Life's Pathway

Seek You

2010-12-02T08:22:00.000-08:00

A rich and poor child attended school together. One day the wealthy one brought in a fine leather wallet. The other students gaped and were envious of the beautiful object. The other children began to their save money so they could buy one just like it. The poor one had no chance; it was hard enough to just get fresh pencils and a backpack. The child felt miserable…

That child went to the local storekeeper, put his meagre change on the counter and said, “This is all the money I have. Can I please have that wallet?”

“So you do not have another penny?” asked the owner. “Tell me, if you have no more money, what good is the wallet to you? You have nothing to put in it.”

The storekeeper makes sense. As adults we would say the same. And yet, there is a small inner voice that understands and empathizes with the cry of the child who yearns to be like everyone else, wants to have what they have, and does not wish to stand out as different.

The child has grown up but still struggles over the same issues. We want and cannot always have what want.

It has been said by many pundits and economists that the economic slump that we are in is largely due to living beyond our means. We wanted the lovely wallet, could not afford it, but got it anyway. Everybody felt the same way, including the banks. We went out and bought what we should not have purchased.

Looking around it is easy to fall prey to desiring what others have. Just watching television is an exercise in restraint as commercial after commercial tells us “If we order now….” We are barraged by billboards, ads on radio and on the Internet that imply satisfaction and contentedness if we -- along with the rest of the country -- buy what they are selling.

Sociologist George Ritzer has called this phenomenon the “McDonaldization of America.” In this new world everyone gets the same car, same house, same TV, and the same everything. One city looks like another and states lose their individuality until all America looks alike.

On an individual level, Talmud has a distinctly different idea. “Man strikes many coins from one die and they are all alike. The Holy One, blessed be He, however, strikes each person with the same die as Adam but not one is the same as the next.”* Not only does our faith tell us about the uniqueness of our formation but it declares we each play an indispensable role in the universe. In other words, we have special gifts that only we can give to the world. In the absence of that gift the world is incomplete.

What this all means is that we are not supposed to look for ways to be like one another. Instead, we are called by God to seek out our own destiny. Certainly, others will play a role in that process but it is our journey towards becoming whole, not theirs.

“According to the effort is the reward.”** Our task is to bring about the fullest self we can achieve. There is no one who can do this but you: you are one of a kind since the inception of Creation.

*Sanhedrin 38a

The Big Ten

2010-01-11T12:42:00.000-08:00

1. Be neat and clean.
2. Be courteous and polite.
3. Always obey your parents.
4. Protect the weak and help them.
5. Be brave but never take chances.
6. Study hard and learn all you can.
7. Be kind to the animals and care for them.
8. Eat all your food and never waste any.
9. Love God and go to Sunday school regularly.
10. Always respect our flag and our country.
~Roy Rogers Club 1940's

It's funny how often humanity feels the need to rewrite the Ten Commandments. Wasn't the original good enough?

Tzav

2009-04-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

There is so much wisdom contained in a grain of sand. Worlds are viewed through the lens of a microscope when we look at something as plan and innocuous as sand. And yet. There is always more. We look to Torah and heritage for worlds that inhere inside our world. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjGU3plNAdo

V'Zot HaBerakha: And This is the Blessing

2008-10-12T20:39:00.000-07:00

"And Moses, the servant of the Lord died there."

Like all mortals, Moses was destined to leave his body and be rejoined with his ancestors. Yet, by the Torah defining the point of death, it also enjoins the reader to understand that the death of Moses was physical. His spirit, resiliency, and devotion remain alive. That is why the Torah states that Moses died "there". As long as we turn back to the Torah and invest our souls in the work of understanding the Will of the Almighty the spirit of Moses continues to live.

In much the same way, the last Sidra of the Torah deliberately ells us that Moses was the servant of God. That is why the Radak interprets this word to be an invitation for all future generations to imitate the path of Moses. Any person can devote themselves to something larger than their mortal self. Just as a servant is solicitous to his master so too anyone can follow the path of Moses using the same principle, love.

And, what if we do not have the internal strength to master ourselves? what if we fall short? That is why teshuva, return, is always an option. With the holy day of Yom Kippur just past we become aware that our lives are a process of moving towards becoming whole. It must ever be a forward-moving process. Even if at times we move in the wrong direction, it is critical to never give up trying to refine our character, become a servant of God.

That is also why as the Torah winds to a close we immediately open it up at the other end and commence the process of renewal. The Torah is bound on wooden spindles that ever roll. We walk through life, make attempts at growth, reach the end of a phase of life and then begin again.
In fact, it is remarkable that we celebrate the Torah with unbridled enthusiasm now when we finish the Torah and not at Shavuot, the anniversary of the Giving of Torah. Why? The Torah is perfect. Measuring ourselves against its light we fall silent, awestruck by its enormity and boundless power. The reading of the Torah, by contrast, is an exercise in movement, becoming. That is why Simhat Torah outstrips Shavuot in sheer joy. When we conclude the Torah we celebrate our renewal along with the renewal of the endless cycle of learning, and growth.

The name of the Torah reading is V'zot HaBerakha, "This is the Blessing." The Midrash states that when the Lord God told Moses that his life was about to end, Moses complained. He told God how troubled his life was a leader was: he had to cajole the people, threaten them, plead with them, plead for them and now as it was all about to end, he had a single request of the One: Let me bless them.

The blessing is upon you.

Haftara Insight:
Almost seamlessly the Torah portion segues into the Hafatara. Moses, our Teacher, has died, and the position of leadership has passed to his disciple, Joshua. The promise of God to continue His protective shield and maintain the covenant with His people remains firmly planted. Yet, as before, the Holy One demands that we carry our part of the covenant. We are to remain pledged and true to the mitzvot. With these instructions and words of encouragement the people respond as they had at Mt. Sinai. They reaffirmed their commitment and fidelity to the Word of the Almighty.

A Matter of Law:
Rambam teaches that the last eight pesukim -- verses --of the Torah may be read without a minyan. This is because they are ancillary to the Torah. Lower in holiness than the rest of the five books these pesukim detail the death and praise the life of Moshe Rabbenu.
Because we are forbidden from reading the same Torah portion twice, this sidra is always reserved for the night of Simhat Torah, not Shabbat.

Ha'azinu

2008-10-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

In the modern era when we enjoy and take great naches from the new country of Israel we often remind ourselves of the miraculousness of her existence. She is the culmination of dreams and prayers that remained strong for two thousand years of exile. The fact that she still lives is remarkable given the ongoing threats that have continued unabated since her birth. Yet, Moses speaks even to our time. He announces to vast unknown generations that miracles abound when Jews place their trust in the Lord, God.

Perhaps one of the worst crimes against our self that we commit is to minimize the miracles of our time. In one old apocryphal tale a king asks his vizier for proof of the existence of God. The advisor answered, “The Jews, sire, the Jews.”
Much the same point is made by the Hafetz Hayim. The Hafetz Hayim once asked a man how he was feeling. The man responded to the master that things could be much better.

The Hafetz Hayim answered the man, “How do you know? How can you be really sure that things could be better? Perhaps you are wrong. Maybe life is exactly as it ought to be and if the balance were disturbed, your life would be much worse.”
I believe the Hafetz Hayim was deliberately telling the man to look at his life and like it. It is far too easy to be dismissive of what we have as we jealously look across to our neighbor and salivate with envy. The way of doubt is easy. The way of faith, on the other hand, is to appreciate what God has presented to us.

It is no great hochma, wisdom, to be dismissive. It is easy to be critical. It is easy to take pot-shots and shoot holes into beliefs. For those who wish to write-off America as hopelessly corrupt and a failure they can cite case after case to bolster their argument. Take a great leader and place under a microscope all their flaws and their dark underbelly strips away all the good things they did. One can criticize Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Maimonides, Akiva, anyone and find a world that is devoid of models of behavior. Schindler was a drinker, Freud was a druggie, Kennedy a womanizer. What is left? What have we proven? That we are smarter than they? No, only that there is no goodness in the world.

The Hazon Ish makes a similar point in speaking about a tailor. Someone watching sees him with a pair of scissors cutting strips of fabric from many bolts of cloth. The observer says to himself, what a mess. Why is this man ruining all these fine stretches of fabric? Only when the tailor does his work in crafting a master piece of clothing does it become apparent to all what he was doing. That is the way of God, says the Hazon Ish. We see only a fragment of what he does. Instead of making judgments, faith dictates that we observe and accept.

Perhaps that is also why the Israeli nation anthem nods to this principle when it states that this new national identity is the fruition of a two thousand year old promise. Israel came about, this implies, because God was the guiding force throughout the epochs. Israel came to be when God ordained that it was time. Because the people kept the prayers alive, the vision and dream undimmed, it came to pass.

A Matter of Law:
We all have debts. Some are larger than others. They, at times seem to consume our waking and sleeping hours. The Sages warn however that the honor of another person overwhelms even such an obligation. At no time are we ever permitted to embarrass another person for the sake of a loan or debt they have not repaid.
Haftara Insight:
An old man, King David readies himself to take leave of this universe. His powerful words so resonate with us that they are often used at funerals even today. They express the notion that God is above death. He is the ultimate rock of existence. Knowing that the Holy One reigns forever makes even death less frightening.
More, God redeems and forgives us for our earthly sins. That is the greatness of the love of God.

Vayeylech

2008-10-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

Moses, in one of his last talks to the Jewish people sings a song that is both lyrical and enigmatic. One statement stands out among them all. Moses claims that now that he is aged, one hundred-twenty years old!, that he can no longer come or go" (Deut. 31:2). An admission of his waning strength Moses confesses to his people, in effect, that his bones ache and his joints no longer function as they used to. He is old, tired. Not much later the Torah informs us that “Moses was 120 years old when he died; his eye was not dim, and his force was not abated" (Deut. 34:7). How can Moses be at once old and ailing and vital and energetic on the other?

There is a powerful lesson here about self-deprecation verses revealing the shortcomings of others. I have no doubt Moses was full of fatigue and weary from many life-long struggles. He lived through tumultuous and painful times. Orphaned in a reed basket, Moses knew the courts of Pharaoh. He lost all that royalty in a pique of righteous indignation. The king-cum-shepherd was then coerced into becoming the great liberator of his people only to endure hardship and trial through the next forty years. No wonder he was tired!

Yet, it is not fitting for others to tell how weak the aged leader had become. It serves no good purpose to degrade another human being even if we are just agreeing with them! Lashon ha-ra, is often translated as gossip. But what if the lashon ha-ra is really true? Said for no reason other than idle chatter such statements are inflammatory and evil. Lashon ha-ra does not have to be a lie. It may be true! Its truth or falsehood is irrelevant to the fact that negative statements about another person should not be uttered.

Rashi explains that he means: he is no longer was able to maneuver in Torah. In other words, the wellsprings of Torah have been closed to him.

In addition to the physical fatigue and strain that Moses felt was also a sudden shift in leadership. The transfer of the mantle of leadership from Moses to Joshua was also happening now. The appointed successor to Moses was carefully instructed and trained and then brought into his new position to ensure a seamless transition. That could not have been easy for Moses.

Rashi, in fact, makes mention of the pain that Moses must have felt when Joshua moved into his place. He informs us that the Lord had also begin to transition from one leader to the next. Rashi is relying on an ancient midrash.

The Yalkut Shimoni cites: Moses went to visit Joshua in his tent. Joshua peered out from the folds of his home, saw Moses coming and ran out to greet him. Together they went to the Tent of Meeting. In the past the Holy One, blessed be He, would reveal to His faithful servant what needed to be done. On this occasion, Moses walked to the left of his servant, Joshua. This was sign that Moses was moving away from his key post.

When the two arrived at the Tent of Meeting the Shechina fell not on Moses, but Joshua. When the Will of the Lord was revealed to Joshua the two men exited together. Moses inquired, "What did the Lord God tell you?" Joshua replied that just as he did not share with him what God had said to him, Joshua would observe the same silence.

Moses was aghast, horrified. With this one exclusion, Moses felt his world begin to collapse all around him. For Moses this was the moment when age crushed his spirit like nothing else in all his years. The pangs of being left out and jealousy overwhelmed Moses. It was, he claimed, worse than one hundred deaths!
The feelings of another human being- even if we view them as steely characters with no signs of aging or cracks are all vulnerable.

Perhaps it is important to read this parasha as the New Year dawns and as we get ready to approach our Maker and ask forgiveness. It all begins with sensitivity.

Haftara Insight:
This is Shabbat Shuva. We are directed by Hosea to return to God, reform our behavior and ask the Lord for forgiveness. Wedged between Rosh Hashanna and Yom Kippur we are told to become introspective and assess who, or what, we have become. Hosea furthers this idea by warning us not to place our trust in the powers other than the One. God alone is the source of our salvation.
A Matter of Law:The mitzvah of writing a sefer Torah appears in this parasha. While most of us are unqualified to write a Torah we are still obligated to do so through the hands of others.
30:1-2 is not a done-deal. Teshuva is a force that moves earth and heaven The power of repentance redeems and even potentially changes the course of history.

Nitzavim: All of You

2008-09-22T18:19:00.000-07:00

The parsha includes the compelling and slightly enigmatic phrase, "all of you who are standing before me today."

The Talmud has a fascinating interpretation for this pasuk. It says that both the body and soul will be held accountable to the Holy One in the aftermath of life. The soul cannot claim that it was coerced and the body also has no excuse for its actions. Here is how it phrases the idea:

A blind man and a lame man are hired by a farmer to watch his precious crops. The owner forbade them from eating any fruit. Yet, when the crops were harvested there was a paltry yield. The owner was suspicious. The two watchmen claimed they took nothing. How could they?
The blind man said, "It was not me. I cannot see!"
The lame man said, "It could not have been me. I cannot walk!"
The owner then placed the lame man on the back of the blind man and punished them together.1

Pirkay Avot takes another tack. It pronounces that no person should ever cut themselves off from a community. 2 What it observes is that all of us are an entity, an organism. We have a responsibility toward one another that stems from this Torah portion. Rambam further emphasizes this idea when he states that when a person cuts themselves off from the body of Israel and does not feel their pain or experience their joy totally severs his connection from them in the world-to-come as well. 3

The connective tissue that binds us must be inviolate. That is what all of you- in the parasha means. More specifically, it means – all of you - throughout all time.

Note that the Israelites are standing at the border of Israel. That is the precise location where they find themselves as the Divine command comes to them. The word stand is pivotal. Like the Amidah that we recite, which also means standing and is the same root word as here, the Jewish nation is poised to enter into the holy land. They stand – this exact word is used -before they cross over.
Likewise, each Jew needs to be focused and at attention when about to make any upward spiritual movement. Crossing over to a higher spiritual level is not simple and usually does not come without effort. We must try to approach God. Aliyah means ascending and one cannot go up without expending energy.

"All of you" also degrades any social standing. Any arbitrary or contrived social ladder is destroyed when taking into account the body of the people. Every member of the Israelites is vital. From the water-carrier to the kohen gadol each member is counted and needed. There is not a single person person that is expendable because they do not have the education, or breeding or money that others can claim. --All of you -- means that God needs every one of us especially the ones who stand at the margins. Remember that the vaunted Elijah may be one of them….

Midrash also reflects on the idea of Moses incorporating all those who stand before him this day. Later, Moses goes on to elaborate that even those who are not present. How can it be that if everyone is present, someone might be missing? Midrash answers that the call of Moses is to unborn generations. Those yet to come –you and I and the many generations in between were also part of the assemblage. 4

Those who move are comprised of flesh and blood. We are people given the task of conquering the world. Continually moving to conquer new realms we are rarely still. Yet, in another realm, those who stand still are the angels. That is why when we pray we place our feet together during the kedusha and do not budge from that place. We are imitating the angels on High who sing Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh to the glory of the One.

Idea: When we commanded to stand we are being asked by the Eternal One to imitate the angels. Perhaps it is intentional that we read this parsha before the Holy Days. On the first of Tishray we are to try to become as perfect before God as possible.

1. Sanhedrin 91b
2. Pirkay Avot 2:5
3. Laws of Repentance 3:11
4. Tanchuma and Sforno

Haftara Insight:
Despair gives way to excitement and rejoicing as this Haftara reading practically shouts outs in exuberance. No longer will there be any mourning. In its place will come flowing and abundant love. No longer silent we will send our message of hope and deliverance to the world.
Jerusalem will rejoice. Even its walls will convulse with song. Powerfully, Isaiah tells us for the sake of Zion to never be silent again!

A Matter of Law:
The mitzvah of writing a sefer Torah appears in this parasha. While most of us are unqualified to write a Torah we are still obligated to do so through the hands of others.
30:1-2 is not a done-deal. Teshuva is a force that moves earth and heaven The power of repentance redeems and even potentially changes the course of history.

Ki Tavo: My Father, an Aramean?

2008-09-14T15:32:00.000-07:00

When the first fruits, or bikkkurim in Hebrew, were brought to the Temple, the farmer who brought them was supposed to declare, “My father was destroyed by wandering Aramean….” The Talmud tells us that this phrase is so powerful and compelling that it needs to be repeated at the Passover seder.1 Why? What does the sentence mean?

One interpretation of this phrase is that it refers back to Laban who attempted to murder Jacob. The Passover Haggadda uses this interpretation to define how ruthless Laban was: While Pharaoh only wanted to murder the Israelite boys, the plot of Laban would obliterate the Jewish nation had he succeeded in murdering the patriarch Jacob!

However, there is an entirely different possibility for this text. It might also mean that Jacob – my father - was wandering while in the land of Aram. If this reading is correct, the meaning of the Torah text changes to a statement about the patriarch’s impoverishment, not that Laban was out to kill him.2 That is to say we are to be reminded of the protection of God over Jacob while he was vulnerable and in exile.

This reading is compelling because for the past two thousand years the condition of the Jew has been the same as this journey of Jacob. Dependent upon the mercy of distant rulers and the whims of local authorities, the Jew has been in a long state of exile. Imagine what this would mean to our ancient ancestors as they ate their bread of affliction in constant dread of expulsion, or worse.

Reb Tzadok Hakohen of Lublin reads this segment of the Torah with a slightly different nuance. His understanding posits that Laban sought to take away from Jacob his father-hood. That is to say, Laban was jealous that Jacob was wealthy and destined to be the progenitor of the nascent Jewish people. Laban hoped to supplant young Jacob and become the patriarch in his stead. It was not his physical life that Laban wanted to end but his spiritual legacy.

The passage arises at the Passover Seder at the time of the second cup of wine. At that moment that participant is consumed with the idea that the Lord God took us from the depths of despair and raised us to a covenanted nation at Sinai. If this is the real intent of the text in Deuteronomy then, in its context, the humble farmer who brings his first fruits to the Temple is expressing the single notion of Deliverance. This farmer acknowledges through these words his moral an, spiritual and physical impoverishment. It is only through the great gift of God that he is able to present his first fruits to the Kohen at the Temple. It is as if he is saying, “If not for You, God, I would have nothing.”

One more idea. The phrase- a wandering Aramean – was only to be recited after the Jews had entered the Land of Israel. Until that time they were not to use those words. The graduation of the Israelites from desert nomads to inhabitants of the land made it imperative to never forget their roots. In much the same way, we who live in freedom repeat those ancient words to recall our humble beginnings.

Musar: The seeds of prayer are placed into the earth with the ever-resent thought that everything belongs to God. I am only here because He wills it.

1 Pesachim 116a
2 See Rashbam

Haftara Insight:
The series of prophetic readings that align with the topical thread of consolation reaches its apogee this week. Isaiah calls to the survivors of devastation to arise and allow their soulful self to shine outward. That inner luster will act as a beacon to the nations of the world. They will all witness the grandeur of the people of Jacob. The time for tears is over. The time of jubilation has begun....

A Matter of Law:
The parsha makes special mention of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. In Jewish society if any of these people are marginalized it is wicked. Our responsibility is to make sure there are no needy among these three groups. Accursed is the person who allows the Torah to be abrogated in his community. J.Sotah 7:4

Ki Tetze: The Many Faces of a Line

2008-09-08T14:43:00.000-07:00

What does the Torah mean?

This question underlies every commentary on the Holy Text since the time of its giving. In fact in the first chapter of Deuteronomy it states that the Torah shall be explained explicitly. 1 This is taken to mean that even when the Torah was given it required wisdom to extract meaning from its inner core.

That is why the life of the Torah is so exciting and stretches for eons as sages have wrung new meaning from ancient text. A simple example opens the reading of this week. Torah says that when this nation goes off to war and a solider sees a woman with whom he becomes infatuated….

On the surface level the Torah is explicit about what is often permitted, or overlooked, at times of war. Those who are most vulnerable- even from the enemy side- require protection.

One of the great sages noted that this passage immediately follows the law of the Egla arufa, the broken calf. This juxtaposition points to how seemingly trivial things can cause whole nations to go to war. The egla arufa refers to a corpse that is found outside a city. The closest city needs to do something to declaim responsibility for the death. Distances are measured, notes are taken, and words of confession and piety are spoken all for this nameless corpse. Then the Torah tells about the spoils of war. It seems to imply, says this sage, that for lack of culpability, someone taking responsibility, because of one death, hundreds or thousands might die. We must be ever vigilant to do the right thing and not turn away from being responsible.2

Musar: Avalanches start with a snowflake. They grow and gain velocity until they bury everything in their path. Grudges have the same growth pattern.

Others say the reason the two passages are next to one another is because of the thread of death that runs through both. We are urged to realize the fundamental principle that cuts through every act of war- death will result. The passages are meant to make us think not about glory but the ultimate result that comes from saber rattling; burying corpses.

Musar: we must never allow ourselves to become so carried away by the moment that we lose track of our humanity, our soul.

That same empathy resonates through the next passages as the captor must let the woman sit shiva for her dead relatives. He must watch as she tears her clothes and morns the part of her life that has been cut down. Torah clearly intends for the reader to have pathos and leads him away from reckless bravado.

Musar: it does not matter whether someone deserves to suffer or not. The only thing that matters is that at once we never identify with the victimizer and that our arms will be stretched out toward the victim.

The war described in this parsha describes a woman from a Canaanite nation that is taken captive. The word used from the captive being taken to the land of the victor is the same as the word for repentance, teshuva. What the Talmud understands from this seemingly obvious passage is something far deeper. Rabbi Simon says that when a person comes- even from a people that is utterly opposed to the Jewish nation – and seeks to embrace the faith of Abraham they need to be fully welcomed. 3

Musar: Who has wandered so far away from the Light of God they are no longer redeemable? No one.

Another commentator goes even further. He asks, would we have assumed that a proselyte, convert, from the Caananites would be welcomed into the Jewish people had god not permitted it? 4 Probably not. Although the question goes unspoken, we still need to ask ourselves if we need to be more strict, unforgiving than the good Lord God?

Musar: The lesson of God is the lesson of kindness. We lose nothing by forgiving others.

1 Deut 1:5
2 Baal Haturmin
3 Sotah 35b
4 M’or HaShemesh

Haftara Insight:
Shame and disgrace are the two sentiments that underlie this prophetic reading. While they have the potential to overwhelm us, God tells us that we are not forgotten. The covenant remains intact. Even though we abrogated our part of the agreement God remains firmly rooted to the pact of our ancestors. Isaiah declares the eternal nature of the compassion of the Holy One. You are loved, he says.

A Matter of Law:
A painful halacha is found in this reading that relates to a child who is uncontrollable. He will not listen to the voice of his parents. His actions are antithetical to all godly matters. The parents try to teach him ethical behavior but ultimately give up because he is wild, rebellious. The Law demands the child be put to death.
While this law was seldom, if ever, practiced, it decidedly points to the deepest pain of a parent; Their child rejects their learning and direction.

Shoftim: Holy Justice

2008-08-31T19:02:00.000-07:00

The sidra opens with the command to establish judges. They are clearly told not to add or subtract from any of the given laws, not to show favoritism and to be unyielding the the quest for the truth.

Two ideas jump out of this declaration that demand attention. The first is that this mitzva is not directed at any particular person. It could have been aimed at the kohanim, leviim or a tribe. The law might have been directed at the wisest of the age. Instead, the mitzva is encumbent upon every Jew. Our mitzva is to use justice in every dealing.

King, farmer, jeweller, well-digger all must the same rule of not allowing for favoritism. The laws of the court are the laws of the individual.

Rabbi Isaiah Hurwitz examined the Torah text and saw the words aimed at the newly appointed judges, in your gates. He interpreted in all your gates as the pathways to the soul. When we are listening to another we are supposed to fully utilize all our senses, ears, mouth, smell, touch to ferret out the truth. These sensory areas are the gates which the Torah speak of. Only when we take full advantage of all our God-given attributes do we allow the information to enter our heart.

We are judges. Each time we meet and speak with individuals we are sated with great power; power enough to destroy a person. That is why it is as critical for us as for the traditional court of law to constantly seek truth.

In fact, later in the sidra, the Torah reading notices potential problems with trying hard cases. When that happens, it says, bring those difficult cases directly to the Levites. Why the Levites? Because according to the Rambam, the Levites unlike the other tribes, had no physical stake in the Promised Land. That would give them clearer vision in adjudicating cases as they would not be biased. See 17:8

The second idea is that the Text says "You shall come to the judge .... in those days. What does this mean "in those days?" Not every day? Not in each age? Rashi illumines this odd statement by saying that the mitzva of judgement applies specifically to every age, in your age. We may look backward and declare that since there is no one like Moses, or Rambam, or Akiva or Reb Yohanan that we cannot rely on our own scholars of our day. Such a statement would relegate our faith to a fossilized system.

While we never abandon the ways fo the past we are ever-vigilant to the wise scholars of our time. Their critical task is to be attentive to the needs of the present and to interpret the Law to our time.

Haftara Insight:

Isaiah speaks. Awaken. Get up. Look around. The word God focuses on the heart of the Jew that has been rent. When all seems lost, get up. If you open your eyes and witness the magnifient life that abounds on every side you will come out of the depths of despair that holds you in its grip. All is not lost. A new beginning awaits.

A Matter of Law:

We must always carry justice in our private lives to the extent that we must even reprove a friend if they have done something wrong. We do not judge them but point out where they have erred. To remain silent is to dismiss the ideal of justice. One Sage rules that if we say nothing we are like a judge that has accepted a bribe. What is the bribe? The threat of breaking a friendship.

Re'eh: Real Vision

2008-08-26T09:39:00.000-07:00

The Torah portion commences with the word, re’eh meaning see. It then goes into detail the potential blessings and curses of the nation. Why does the text say "see" when it ought to say shma, "listen"? Equally perplexing is that re’eh is singular while the next verb tishmu is in the plural?

In the first instance, some scholars tell that the portion begins with "see" is because God was about to visually demonstrate the power and meaning of blessing and curses from the tops of two mountains. People were arrayed on either mountaintop facing one another and would see, as well as hear, the moral drama acted out.

D’var aher: The entire Israelite nation would "see" the mitzvot of God. As a single unit this people saw and heard the majesty of the Word of God. However, the nation does not observe mitzvot; only individuals can bind themselves to the commandments. That is why the second verb is in the plural. Each Jew alone must confront their willingness to follow after the Lord.

D’var aher: Perhaps the Torah is attempting a different modality of learning. Could it be that the power of "see" is about having unbleached vision. God is telling the Israelites- and us - to open our vision to the blindness of pre-judging the world. If we would only see the real blessings and cures of life, our understanding of what God wants would be complete.
Once our eyes are open our vison is clear, unimpaired. We see.

An old acquaintance of mine used to comment on the early morning blessings of the daily service. He said that the first few blessings were not congruent with a healthy mental outlook. Thanking God for what you are not (a heathen, a gentile, a woman, etc.) is not conducive to centering oneself on the self. Far better, he insisted was to thank the Lord for what we are, not what we are not.

Much of our lives is defined by who or what we are not. We are American and so much better than the Europeans. Or we are black and therefore superior to whites. Or Christians are saved. Jews are elevated. Even on the playground it was the girls vs. boys. Then, with age, we wonder why people become so polarized as not to see life our way, the proper way.

Perhaps Torah is telling us to focus on our side on the fence. Learn about who you are. Once confident about our identity, we can then reach out to others as equals not as potential converts or conquests. When we witness or see God’s role in the universe we then are able to join with others without borders or boundaries.

This may be the meaning of re’eh, "see" in the singular and then why it is followed by tishmu, "hear" in plural form. Only when we have seen truth we can relate well to one another.

D’var aher: Talmud tells us that we ought to envision our lives as if we were precariously perched between the mountains of blessing and curse, good and evil. So delicately straddled are we between the two mountains that one move in either direction will tip the scales. God therefore says "see" what is before you. The reason why the next verb is in plural is to show us how one small mitvza can change a life. Our life.

D’var aher: God gives blessings and curses to the people. Why would the Torah present this language to make it sound like God was giving them a gift? Who would want a curse? Yet one scholar, Pri Tzaddik, notes that not only is it a gift but has a strong connection to the first gift of God in the Garden of Eden.

Pri Tzaddik tells us that in the Garden we were gifted the privilege of choice. Adam and Havvah could choose the fruit of knowledge or remain within the boundaries of externality. They chose knowledge. In much the same way God again presents humanity with a choice. We can opt for goodness and blessing or deviance and curse.

The real gift of God is that we always have a choice. That is why two mountains. That is also why the Text shows us visually and auditorially.

Haftara Insight:
A series of rhetorical questions are asked. If you have money can you buy what your desire? If you have water can you slake your thirst? If God is with you, what is not possible?We are so blessed through the words of the prophet Isaiah. He declares that all we need to do is listen and follow. The answer to the most trying issues of life is as terse and as simple as that.With that knowledge all things are possible

A Matter of Law:
Idolatry, we are explicitly told in the Torah text, we are supposed to uproot, eradicate. Why os this so powerfully and emphatically stated? It is clear from the pages of history that where competing gods contend for domination, people imitate their actions. The most damaging times of human history is when laws fall away at the whim of competing celestial and then earthly forces. Where there is no singular law binding all people evil becomes confused with good. The idea of idolatry is antithetical to monotheism.

Eikev: God and Us

2008-08-17T13:02:00.000-07:00

Conciliation is a powerful theme that cuts through this time of year. Is it not remarkable that after an exile of nearly twenty centuries we are still here? All other nations that we read about in the Torah and history books have been reduced to historical footnotes. We alone remain.
~

In the Torah reading there are references to our missteps and intentional violations of God’s will. In every instance there is a punishment , or at least a withdrawal of the Lord’s favor, in response to what was done. Yet the Talmud makes it very clear that when God’s name is called by a minyan, He answers. Such prayer is an invitation for the Holy to join us. His Presence reacts to us. 1 God wants us to respond to the Call. He yearns for our answer but we always have a choice as to how we respond.

~
Eikev is usually translated as - because. It is an unusual use of the word. Rashi tells us that it means heel. Like the patriarch of long ago - Yakov - Eikev also has as its root, heel. What Rashi seems to be saying is that all the laws that God gave to us, whether from the lowly heel or to highest heights of heaven, are equally important before the One.

The Sassover Rebbe expanded this idea when he said that with every step of our heel we need to be cognizant of doing the Will of the Lord, God. We must be ever mindful of whether what we are saying or doing God would approve.

~
Manna was food from heaven. The parasha tells us that the manna was a test, though. How would manna be a test?

We know that the manna was the daily sustenance of the people. It appeared every day and nourished the Israelites as they traipsed through the desert. How could the manna possibly be a test?

The Maggid of Mezritch provides illumination. The Maggid reveals that people have two spiritual obstacles. The first is when they do not have enough. People will then worry about where the bread of tomorrow will come from. Some are strong in faith that it will come. Others grow impatient and become negative-minded. There is another kind of test though; a test of affluence. For many, when they have everything that they need, they grow haughty, feel superior and then take their gifts for granted. This was the test for the Israelites. With their daily manna would they remain grateful or become possessive and selfish?

Which is more difficult? To be thankful in years of plenty or grateful in the lean years?

~
The Torah tells us to circumcise our hearts. What does this mean? Like a flesh circumcision it will not be easy. Doing what we perceive to be in our best interest is often selfish and egotistical. It serves our needs, often to the detriment of others. For example, demeaning another person down may make us feel superior. Saying bad things however, degrades us more than them. Another example is hurting, stealing from another person or business and justifying by saying they deserved it. This kind of excuse-making is a mask for evil. It also corrupts us.

Circumcising the heart means always asking whether what we are about to do is a genuflecting before the altar of the ego or doing what God wants. It is a radical redirecting of the way we are taught to think. Circumcising the heart is not easy. It is self-critical living. Yet, the greatest benefit is the freedom from the ultimate slavery, obeisance to oneself.

~
Often we are told in Torah and in this parasha, to Fear the Lord. The Baal Shem Tov reinterpreted this verse to mean that it is God who fears. How is it possible that God will fear anything? The Master of All has any fear?

The Baal Shem reminds us that a parent teaches a child proper conduct, rules of behavior, ways of conversing and interaction. Then when the education is complete the parent sends the child out into the world. The parent does not just let go of the offspring. They worry. They spend sleepless nights agonizing if they will fare well. Will they remember all the lessons they were taught? Will the recollect all the accumulated and imparted wisdom? Or will they forget the lessons?

That, says the Baal Shem, is the fear of the Lord. He has given us instructions, commandments, advice and lessons to equip us to face the world. Now, the Celestial One worries: Will My children remember what I have taught them?

Berachot 6a

Haftara Insight:
This is the second reading of Consolation in the aftermath of Destruction. The question is raised; Is it possible to forget your beloved? Would a mother not remember her offspring? Is it possible that the God of the ancient ones would dismiss His children?
The rhetorical question requires no response. Nonetheless, Isaiah reassures the nation of Israel that the love of the Almighty is eternal. With soothing language, the prophet buoys a despondent people

A Matter of Law:
On Bread: Whenever consuming more than a bite-ful of bread we are commanded to thank, bless God for that gift. Inasmuch as it is a mitzvah to thank God before eating it is an earlier biblical injunction to bless what we have already eaten. In other words, while saying grace before and after meals are both mitzvot, the blessing after meals is the only explicit Torah law of the two.

Va'etchanan: Listen and Love

2008-08-12T19:07:00.000-07:00

In the aftermath of the most bleak day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av, we look for comfort. That is the theme of the haftara for this week. Starting with that word, comfort, nachamu, and then repeating it, we are told by Isaiah to feel comfort. Is it that easy to feel comforted that all we need to be told to feel that way?

Varied responses can be found in the Torah reading.

For one example, the Torah teaches the power of saying the Shma. A part of the Shma is the command which follows, v’ahavta, and you shall love. How do you love? You love by doing, not by feeling. Sure, love starts with a feeling but without tangible evidence is it truly love? Faith has little to do with this religion. It is all about translating what happens in the heart to the hands. We love God by expressing that love demonstrably.

Furthermore, love acted upon is love felt internally. Emotion translated into motions of the feet and tongue and hands is felt at least in equal measure in return. Perhaps part of the idea of comfort is reflect by what we do to feel the embrace of forgiveness and comfort.

A great luminary and founder of the Hasidic movement was known to have devoted his early years to educating children. The Baal Shem Tov was a helper to a teacher. He devoted these nascent years of his life to teaching the foundation of Jewish prayer to tots. Beginning with the modeh ani, the Baal Shem Tov sought to instil the idea of holiness from a young age.

The Baal Shem understood that the greatest thing of life is simple thanks, another way of expressing and feeling love.

In the Talmud 1 Rabbi Simlai reacts to Moses wanting to enter in to Israel. Told he would be barred entry, Moses contested the Divine decree and argued with God to go to Israel. Why would Moses actually argue this point with God? What did Moses want?

The Hafetz Hayim reveals that most people would look at the breadth of Jewish tradition and become overwhelmed by its magnitude. They may look at the 613 mitzvot, for example, and with a shrug, confess that they cannot do it. They will not even try.

That, says the Hafetz Hayim, is akin to a man walking along the beach. Suddenly seeing pearls and diamonds wash ashore he rushes to collect all the precious gems. The more he puts into his hands the more falls through his fingers. Finally, he gives up and walks away because he could not possibly gather them all.

This, warns the Haeftz Hayim, is the great trap to which humans fall prey. We give up because the enormity of the job seems to great. Do what you can! He bellows from the past.

Moses debated with God about entering into Israel because many commandments relate solely to the Land and could only be fulfilled there. Moses wanted to do more.
To compound the gravity of his complaint, remember that this request of Moses takes place forty years after the Exodus from slavery! After all the events of the past - the golden calf, the bitter waters, the disappointment of the people with their food, the rebellion of Korah and much more - Moses has not lost hope or desire for doing more mitzvot. Moses understands the most vital secret of life, do not give up!

Rabbi B. Melchior describes the tradition that if the Jews would only keep two Shabbatot God would unleash the annointed one, the Messiah. Further tradition states that the two Shabbatot are specific, Hazon and Nachamu, last week and this week.

Melchior quotes hearing a student provide his understanding of why those two weeks are the pivotal ones to observe. If you can withstand the tragedy of pain, if you can look at the breadth of laws that Judaism contains, if you can accept what is difficult for you and still remain faithful on the next Shabbat there will be the final and absolute consolation of the Messiah.

Love keeps hope and trust alive.

1. Sotah, 14a

Haftara Insight:
This first haftara of consolation following Tisha B'Av asks startling questions of us. While we may shake our heads at our misfortune, there is God Who makes all else shrink in comparison. Isaiah uses the imagery of grass which grows dull, withers and ultimately disappears. The grass is like our lives. Yet, the Lord stands above all life and will not change. Despite all else, the covenant endures. Lift up your eyes, declares the prophet, and see.

A Matter of Law:

Do not deviate to the left or the right, states the Torah text. In other words, do not misuse, misconstrue or alter the words of the holy Torah. It is timeless and immutable. The meaning of the pasuk extends so far as to listen to the advice and interpretations of the Sages. When they interpret Torah, listen intently and follow their words.

Devarim: The Postcript

2008-08-03T18:34:00.000-07:00

What is in a name? The book Devarim, Deuteronomy, takes its name from the second word of the book. Hardly a descriptive title of the contents of the text—all it means is 'words.' An older name for this fifth book of the Bible is Mishneh Torah, Repetition of the Torah. It has that name because the entire book represents the final speech of Moses which reviews the history of the Jewish people under his leadership.

In fact, the Talmud agrees that Moses, not God, was the author of this entire book of Devarim. While not disagreeing with the masters of the Talmud, the later Tosafot add that Moses was clearing operating under the Ruach HaKodesh, the Spiritual Force of Heaven, when he delivered this speech. With a scant thirty-six days to live, Moses carefully crafted his words to his extended family, the Israelite nation. It would contain the most poignant reminders of their experiences throughout forty years of wandering.

Moses does not spend time dwelling on the events of the Exodus. Instead his focus is more narrow, and what he does not say is at least as interesting as what he does in his talk.
This book Moses can be divided the book into three essential parts. They are a harsh rebuke of the people for their behavior, a recapitulation of the primary mitzvot which would guide the nation, and a review of the covenant between the Holy One and the Jewish people.

The Vilna Gaon went so far as to say that each of these three segments corresponds to the three preceding books of the Torah. The covenant covers the second book, Exodus, where God takes this nation and gives them the Torah. The mitzvot are enumerated by the next book of the Torah, Leviticus, while the rebuke covers Numbers.

What can we learn from the talk? Ramban gives us a hint. He writes, "These words of introduction and reproof extend until... the verse 'Observe His laws and commandments, which I enjoin upon you this day, that it may go well with you and your children after you, and that you may long remain in the land that the Lord your God is assigning to you for all time' (4:40). Moses then called to all of Israel who were before him and said, 'Hear O Israel, the laws...' and began explaining the Torah, the Ten Commandments."

Moses has learned a powerful lesson about human nature after leading the Jews for so many years. Experience has a short shelf life. People do not remember miraculous events or life-changing moments. They absorb the actions of that time and then move on to more pressing needs like food, raising the kids, making a living…. That is why Moses does not dwell on the interweaving of God into history in this testament to his life with his people. Instead, Moses focuses on the responsibilities of the nation, the punishments for acting outside the boundaries of law, and the enduring nature of this relationship.

Question: Everyone is seeking deeper meaning from life. Is it possible to be spiritual without first knowing what God wants from us?

What about hutzpah? Is it hutzpah to include the words of Moses into the Torah alongside the words of God? None of the Sages seem to think so. They believe that the Holy One, blessed be He, wants our involvement, our holy hutzpah. The worst crime we can be guilty of is ignoring God. The proof this comes at the conclusion of the Torah when God writes the epitaph for Moses. He states, “There was no prophet that ever arose in Israel as Moses.” God approved of Moses reiterating His message.

Moral: God wants us to be engaged.

And speaking of prophecy, Moses, we know, is acclaimed the greatest prophet that ever lived. Yet, Ramban, as we saw above, said that Moses was operating under Ruach HaKodesh when he spoke the entire book of Devarim. Is there a difference between prophecy and Ruach HaKodesh? There is a significant distinction between them.

A prophet is elected by God. They are not self-appointed and they usually do not strive to find the favor of God by becoming His emissary. The opposite is usually true. Someone operating under the Ruach HaKodesh actively seeks God. They hunger for the connection with the Divine.

When Moses tells the Israelites his message of their ongoing journey without him as their leader he is speaking not through his prophetic ability but with his Ruach HaKodesh. Moses, unlike all those before and after, possessed both gifts. Not only did God speak through Moses to the Jewish nation but the soul Moses wanted even more of God. Perhaps then, that is why the final book of the Torah is endowed with great sanctity and is appended to the previous four despite the fact that it was delivered by a man of flesh and blood.

Idea: Ruach HaKodesh is the open heart toward God. The door is available to all.

Haftara Insight:
In every court case there are the litigants on each side; each bringing their own witnesses. In the instance of Israel, the prophet informs us that God will accuse the people of wrong-doing, if they are not scrupulous about their actions. When that great trial commences the earth and sky will be called as witnesses by God against us.Isaiah uses this imagery to warn us that there is no thing we can ever do that will be hidden from the eyes of God. We must always behave as if we will be called to account for what we do.

A Matter of Law:
The Torah portion opens with a number of obscure names which many sages throughout time have been hard-pressed to explain. It is ultimately Rashi who reveals that each place name is intentionally opaque. They are the places where the Jews had sinned in the desert. Why then are their names hidden? To teach us that once a person has done something wrong we do not remind them of their past sins.

Ma'asei: Life's Lessons

2008-07-15T09:21:00.000-07:00

I. The first verse of the parsha records that these are "their goings according to their journeys, and these were their journeys according to their goings"(33:2). The language is odd as it is both redundant and reverses the two main ideas.

Bachya tell us that the first us that the first part of the phrase refers to the past. We study the wanderings and actions of the past to learn what works and how to behave. The second part refers to the future. This is the blank slate that is waiting to be written. Inasmuch as the past provides clues for us it does not mean that we are stapled to what has already happened. We do not have to repeat what we or others have done before. God has given us the leeway to be free from addictive or well-trodden pathways.

The word that means "goings", motza'hem, comes from the Hebrew root word that means "find". The goings that we experience must always be fresh and novel. In truth, we never know what we will find on any day. It is vital that we do not become depressed or so blasé about ourselves that life becomes something that we cannot wait to get over.

Another commentator, Sefat Emet, observes that when we move out of our past –the Egypts of our lives – and move toward the future –- Israel – we experience a growth in our neshama, soul. Leaving behind us the baser elements of our past allows our soul to reach new spiritual heights.

II. The reading details the division of land between the various tribes of Israel. The single exception was the tribe of Levi. They were to be dispersed among the existing cities of the Israelites. They had a special mission. The Levites were to present moral behavior to the rest of the populace. As strangers among the people their job was remain slightly apart from the rest of the community and register whether others were going astray. Their function was to be the rudder for each of these communities. At the same time, each Levite lived in galut, exile. They did not have a parcel of land to hold as their own. There was no territory possess or defend. For the Levites, it was a long, seemingly endless exile.

Perhaps the Levites are supposed to be an example to us. With their lives living amongst foreign faces they were to function with their peers, study Torah, observe the mitzvot, and maintain a purposeful existence. We must never forget our covenant.

III. Who is the only person whose yahrzeit, date of death, is mentioned in the Torah? Aaron. He died on the first day of the fifth month, Av. There are not many Torah readings that coincide with the actual anniversary date of that event. The yahrzeit of Aaron is an exception. The first of Av comes now in the summer. Why is this date so noteworthy?
1. The month of Av is a time of deep mourning for the Jewish people. Terrible tragedies occurred throughout the epochs at this time.
2. The Clouds of Glory disappeared from the Israelite camp on the day Aaron died.
Both historical notes are important because they are antithetical to the life of Aaron. Remember this was the man who strove to make peace between husbands and wives, children and parents, and even avowed enemies. Now that he no longer traveled in the land of the living surely the plight of the nation would worsen. The death of Aaron would only fuel the pain of the people.

No. The point of his yahrzeit is to remind us that nothing is ever hopeless. We must never give up. In recalling the life of Aaron we are supposed to carry on his legacy of mending the brokenness inside and outside of us.

IV. The Torah reading tells the Israelites to establish Cities of Refuge. The purpose of these Cities was to be a haven for people to flee from vengeful relatives. Say a person dropped a stone on his peer and they died. The family of the dead person may be so full of rage that they want revenge on the poor person that killed their relative. In such an instance the person who committees the manslaughter may run for safety.

In the Talmud it informs us that the road to the Cities must be kept clear of any obstructions and needs to be wide. The Court is obligated to straighten the roads to the Cities of Refuge to both repair and widen them. They must remove all impediments and obstacles. REFUGE REFUGE was written at every crossroads so that no one would miss the route to the City.
- Mishneh Torah

It is so easy to be judgmental and unforgiving. All we have to do is look at pothers with a superficial superior air and with the facts at our disposal pronounce them guilty. It is one of the gravest acts that friends and neighbors do all the time to one another. Perhaps the law of the Cities of Refuge is to teach us that we must not impede someone from teshuvah, repentance, by blocking their way. When we form an opinion of them that we share with others we effectively seal the pathway to healing. The roadway must be kept wide, like our opinion, because we may also be totally wrong in our assessment of them.

Haftara Insight:

To remember is important. We are not to hold onto grudges and bitterness but recall the lessons of the past. God warns His people that we should gaze at the miraculous past and then understand the power of God. We are not alone. We have not been abandoned. The great sins of our life begin with forgetfulness. Even the creatures of the first remember their father. Why do we not recall ours? The prophet concludes with a word that is familiar and yet need repeating: Return.

A Matter of Law:

Cain murdered Abel and God protected him from retribution. Following the same line of thought, even the most heinous crime cannot be summarily dispatched by a person. Law requires and investigation, a tribunal and justice. Vigilante justice is not justice but evil disguised as virtue. That is the deepest meaning of the Cities of Refuge.

Mattot: The Legacy of War

2008-07-13T10:44:00.000-07:00

How painful is the reading this week! That the Israelites were given instructions on making war against the Midianites is at once heartredning and difficult to understand. After all, everything that we learn from biblical instruction is antithetical to the idea of war.

We are told to emulate Aaron, to use a single example. Aaron always endeavored to make peace between feuding people and groups. Further, so many of the prayers we utter beseech God to send us an era when there will be no war. We pray for the Messiah who will release man from such pain. The prophets exhort the people to stop hating each other. What then are we to make of these laws that tell us to fight against the Midianite nation?

Were the laws to preserve the good people from the clutches of those who would destroy them? Certainly the cultures that surrounded the Israelite were worse than immoral, they were amoral. They had not gripes about child sacrifice. They were unconcerned with brutal force being used against the weak. That which is evil had become good; acts of goodness were construed as evil. Was the only response to this utter disregard for human life to wipe them out?

Moses was ordered to dispatch 12,000 men to the front; one thousand men from each of the twelve tribes. We can only imagine the absolute pain of this leader, Moses, who had fought so hard to preserve human life throughout his career.

The Torah indicates the rationale for the war in an earlier biblical segment: The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Oppose the Midianites and attack them, for they opposed you with their wiles with which they beguiled you in the matter of Peor and in the matter of Kozbi, daughter of a prince of Midian, their sister, who was slain on the day of the plague on account of Peor (Numbers 25:16-17).

Perhaps the reason for waging war against the Midiantes was the survival of the nascent Jewish people. Could the Torah be speaking of the inability of the Israelites to morally conquer the Midianites? Had the Jews met them perhaps the Israelites would have turned their back on God and enwrap themselves in the ways of this evil nation? If this is so, consider how different the world would be today if God had not commanded the attack.

Think: Cannot we simply let people who think differently than we do (nations that torture their own people, rampant acts of brutality in subcontinents, murder camps for learning how to kill) live their own lifestyle? Is not religion about improving oneself and refraining from judging others? The way of peace is the way of letting others choose their own path, is it not? In Kings II, 15:16, a tale is told of a wicked despot, Menachem of Tirtzah, who attacked a town killing all the males and splitting open all pregnant women. What then? Is the rationale for fighting against evil to change the world for the better or at least protect the weak? Is it to stop the rampages of those who inflict pain and subjugate others? Defend the innocent from those who would use and exploit them?

Both reasons are correct. If we do not attempt to stop evil, it will eventually overtake us. We will ultimately become that which we hate. There is also the moral imperative that we are to champion the cause of the defenseless. As the past Prime Minister of Israel, Golda Meir once said, “To be or not to be is not a question of compromise. Either you be or you don’t be.” At a time when we are confronted with evil, equivocation serves the purposes of the enemy. Perhaps the world ought to have learned this lesson at the time of the Holocaust. Or the Armenian genocide. Or Pol Pot. Or in Rwanda. Or in Darfur…..Yes, we have a responsibility to fight for the lives and wellbeing of others. We are “our brother’s keeper.”

The passage from this week also reveals, through the great teacher Rambam, that even when fighting an evil tyrant, you must never attack on all four sides. There must be an escape route for those who do not wish to fight. What does this say about the war on evil? That we are to allow them an escape route?

There is no getting around the issue that while we are taught the moral duty to fight against evil there is always the potential that we can become what we dread most. By waging war we may come to like the perverse notion that we enjoy hurting others. That is perhaps why we are also directed to not indiscriminately hurt those who want to flee conflict. And later, when we come to Deuteronomy 20:19 we will learn that a campaign that deforests tracts of land is also forbidden. The idea of the Torah is that at all costs we must preserve our own humanity, even while fighting evil. Perhaps this concept is best put by Golda Meir. “I can forgive the Arabs for hating us. I can forgive them for killing us. What I can never forgive them for is making our children into killers.”

Haftara Insight:
The great election of the prophet Jeremiah is told. Called upon by God, Jeremiah feels unworthy. God answers him by saying that he makes no mistakes. He is far more capable than Jeremiah recognizes or is willing to acknowledge. The Lord then spells out to His servant what He wants him to do. While the words are intended for Jeremiah they really speak powerfully to us.

A Matter of Law:
Words, vows, promises bear great legal weight in Judaism. When we say we are going to do something it is critical that we fulfill or word. Else wise, one brings their reputation, their people, and God into disrepute. Words are never so simple meaningless as to have no bearing on others or the universe. If one makes a vow and cannot do it they must seek release from the Court of Law. There are two kinds of vows: shavua and neder. Both are referred to in the great service of Kol Nidre.

Pinchas: Hero or Villain?

2008-07-12T20:36:00.000-07:00

Psalm 106 tells the breadth of Jewish history through the eyes of King David. Recounting powerful episodes from the Torah, David uses this psalm as a vehicle for a prayer. In every act of the past. the poet expresses his awe at seeing the hand of the Almighty in all things.

When David comes to this reading, he understands Pinchas as having stayed the hand of God. Had it not been for his quick action, the Israelite nation would have suffered terrible consequences. A plague was about to strike at the heart of the Jewish people. Only Pinchas stood in the way. He acted so that God would not have to.

David was recalling the terrible plague that attacked the followers of Korach. Last week we read of a terrible insurrection that threatened Moses and the future of the people whom he led. God stopped the villains by causing the earth to swallow the worst of the evil ones. The remainder of the holders-on to Korach, were wiped out by plague. Understanding the dreadful consequences of disobeying the Lord, Pinchas assuaged the anger of God – so he thought based on what happened to Korach – and carried out the Law himself thus saving the rest of the nation.

Talmud: Interpreting the biblical text the Talmud reads the passage from psalms, Vaya’amod Pinchas Vayifallel as meaning Pinchas quarreled with God. How was Pinchas quarreling with God? The angels saw the zeal of Pinchas as he elbowed his way past them. They tried to stop him from reaching the Celestial Throne but God ordered his angels to leave Pinchas alone. The angels cried to their Master, “But he is a wrathful zealot, offspring of a wrathful zealot!” Still, God allowed Pinchas an audience.

Pinchas argued with God to not punish the Israelites because of the sin of one man, Zimri. The Holy One was not swayed by his plea, so Pinchas himself took action to protect his people.

In this interpretation, Pinchas is a hero, a protector of the Jewish people, willing to go to any lengths to shield them from harm. He went so far as to argue and even defy with God!

As a direct relative of Aaron, the man of peace, Pinchas learned how best to bring about the greatest peace for the nation of Israel. The Psalm of David mentioned above goes on to say that Pinchas was awarded a mark of righteousness to the end of time. This is probably a rewording of the episode where the Torah states that Pinchas was granted a “Covenant of Peace” as a reward for his quick action. Is this really a reward?

Midrash: In contemplating the mind of Pinchas on a yet deeper level one ancient teacher opines what Pinchas may have been thinking at the time. Rabbi Jose in an illuminating midrash explains, "Pinchas said to himself: If a horse risks his life for the day of battle even though he may die, he is nevertheless ready to give his life for his master. What should I do? Should I do less? But what can I do? Two people can overcome one, but can one overcome two?"

Pinchas weighed the options in confronting the sinful actions of Zimri. He knew that if he followed the Law he might die. After all there were two offenders. Pinchas nonetheless decided to intervene and risk his life for God.

The entire story is uncomfortable. We who live at a time when any kind of violence is seen as bad find it hard to be cozy with Pinchas. While Pinchas takes action what was everyone else doing? What were the bystanders doing? What were they thinking? What would you have done had you witnessed the event?

Moses was not happy with the brutal and swift act of Pinchas. The Talmud tells us that Moses actually wanted to place the ban on Pinchas. He wished to excommunicate him. The leader of Israel was horrified with Pinchas and his zealotry.

Another ancient source goes even further by imagining that had Zimri fought against his assailant and killed him, the Beit Din – the Court of Law - would have cleared him of guilt on the grounds of self-defense. Sanhedrin 82a. What then are we to make of Pinchas? Hero? Villain? Savior? Scoundrel?

Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, the first Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, was once asked why he was so sharp towards people who were irreligious and flaunted their lack of observance. Are not the righteous and most religious folk supposed to pray for the ones who have lost their way? Are they not supposed to try to change them through kindness?

Rabbi Sonnenfeld responded: When speaking to the people I make it clear that their behavior is unacceptable. They must know they hey are wrong and sinful. However, every day I say holy psalms and prayers and cry to HaShem on their behalf.

Haftara Insight:
The great Elijah confronts his two arch foes: Ahab and Jezebel tell their God-intoxicated enemy they are tired of the mouse and cat games. They issued a challenge to the prophet that would put an end to the vexations of Elijah and railings against their idolatrous practices. God meets his servant Elijah and assures him in the most powerful way that He will guide and protect him. It is a scene oft recounted by generations. The language is stirring and sated with meaning.

A Matter of Law:
Is zealotry allowable by Jewish law? In the instance of Pinchas, he killed two people committing a sin. Is this a mitzvah? There is no disagreement that Pinchas was justified in his actions. Does this mean his actions are endorsed? The reward for Pinchas was a Covenant of Peace. In other words, his reward was to not be in a position to do it again.
Talmud: Had Pinchas consulted a Sage they would have not permitted his violent act. It is like stealing a vessel for the sake of the Temple. While it may have a higher purpose we do not encourage such zealotry.
As we now approach the Three Weeks leading to Tisha B’Av we refrain from cutting our hair and not eating meat during the Three Weeks, except on Shabbat.

Balak: The Force?

2008-06-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

Underlying the text are some powerful messages that lurk just beneath the veneer of the words. One of them is the imagery of the sword. The first time in the story where a sword appears is in the hands of the angel that stands in the way of Bilaam. A donkey, frightened by the vision of the angel with the sword, veers off course and finally refuses to budge.

It is highly evocative and frankly bizarre that the Torah depicts a non-Jewish prophet, Bilaam, going out to curse the Israelite nation. On the way God sent an angel to impede the way of Bilaam. The angel wards off the donkey that the prophet rides on. Bilaam, unaware of the presence of the angel, continues to urge the animal forward. When Bilaam ultimately realizes that God has dispatched an emissary to stop him he confesses that he has sinned.

Yet, there is a problem with the text: how could Bilaam have sinned when he did not see that his way was being blocked? Can he really be blamed for sinning when he did not know the angel was there?

This was precisely the sin. Bilaam erred because he did not see the messenger of the Lord. He should have realized that there was an angel there but he was so preoccupied by his own thoughts that Bilaam was basically blind. How can this be? Being a person of vision is what a prophet does. He is supposed to see what others cannot! That is why the Torah states, Then the Lord opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the way, and his sword drawn in his hand: and he bowed down his head, and fell on his face.

Compare this episode to the one in Genesis where Abraham marches with his servants and son to the appointed place of the Sacrifice. When they arrive at Moriah only the father and son are able to recognize it. The servants, and the donkey!, see nothing. 1 This is the way of the real man of God. He sees. Making matters worse for Bilaam, he had already identified himself as a prophet of God. Surely then his inability to see the holy emissary of the Lord is at best evidence of a lapse in his seer-hood, at worst exposes him as a fraud.

Is this the sin of Bilaam? Early in the reading Bilaam is identified as a man whose blessings and curses becomes reality. At least that is what the king Balak believes and says. When Bilaam appeals to God for guidance he is told that the people of Israel are blessed and that he must not place a curse on them. What does this prophet then do? He mounts his donkey to level a curse at the Israelites! He even has the chutzpah to tell the king that he is not motivated by all the gold and silver in the treasury. Then why does he go? The only reasonable conclusions would be pure hatred, megalomania – Bilaam was in love with himself – or he was not a real prophet after all.

The Mishna makes its choice. It states, "Whoever has three particular traits is counted among the students of Abraham, and whoever has three other traits is among the students of Bilaam. He who has a good eye, humility and contentedness is a student of Abraham, while he who has an evil eye, arrogance and greed is a student of Bilaam." 2

This teaching would indicate megalomania on the part of Bilaam. He was consumed with his own power and prestige. He only saw what he was predisposed to see, i.e. anything that would advance his self-interest. Yet, how is it possible that even a self- consumed person would brazenly reject the spoken Word of God?

Looking at the tale carefully there is another problem. Torah tells that the elders of Moab and Midian approached Bilaam conveying the demand of King Balak. Bilaam replied they should wait until the morning because he first needed to consult with God. The next morning Bilaam gave his answer to the officials of King Balak. Wait! What happened to the elders of Midian and Moab?

The Talmud 3 tells that as soon as the elders of Midian and Moab heard that Bilaam was going to consult God, they went home. They said: "No father hates his son." These high ranking emissaries knew about the relationship between the Jews and God. They understood their cause was lost. Again we are confronted with the question, what was wrong with Bilaam that everyone, including his donkey, seems to know but not him?

The end of the tale of course is that Bilaam, against his will, blesses the Israelites three times. Afterward, however, Bilaam dies by the sword. Was it the same sword that the angel held when he stopped the donkey?

In the final analysis it is impossible to know what motivates a person to do what they do. What matters is what a person does. Like Bilaam, Hitler never personally murdered anyone. Yet his words brought millions to agonizing torture and death. Perhaps then this is the real lesson of the Torah: Be concerned with the import of what we say. It could lead to terrible consequences. An evil word maybe the equivalent of a steel blade. And when God speaks, listen.

1 Rashi Genesis 22:4-5
2 Pirkei Avot 5:22
3 Sanhedrin 105

Haftara Insight:
The "Remnant of Jacob" is community of faithful that have been loyal and are the linkage which connect the generations. The promise to Abraham has been kept. We are here.
The words of Micah conclude with a stirring and powerful message. It is the answer to the question: What does God want in return? "….He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the Lord demands of you; but to do justice, to love loving-kindness, and to walk discreetly with your God. "

A Matter of Law:
The halacha to maintain only intimate relations with Jews is in this reading. As Bilaam makes fun of this nation we learn that mockery is unacceptable. Disagreements need to be kept serious and not reduced to personal attack. Finally, respect all people as even a mercenary like Bilaam can sometimes be privy to the Word of God.

Hukkat: The Ultimate Mystery

2008-06-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

The mitzvah of the red cow is the most perplexing tale in the Torah. That is why it is called a chok, a mitzvah that escapes logic. Maimonides tried to understand it. King Solomon was confounded by it. For some unknown reason the ashes of the animal make pure the impure.

Perhaps the mitzvah of the cow is connected with the mystery of death itself. Death consumes endless hours of deep thought. We want to know that there is something greater, more lasting than the lifetime of a human being. We know that people have a limited lifetime, but is that all there is? There must be more!

When Miriam and then Aaron die in the parasha we are deeply pained. We have carefully followed their lives, hopes, aspirations throughout the long years of slavery and exile. Is this truly then end of their life? All that remains is a story to be told. It is very sad. The chok of the cow hints that there is a border between life and death. When one has crossed over to the other side it is not simply a dull end to physical existence but also a beginning.

"A child made the palace floor filthy. The king said: Let his mother come and clean up her child's dirt. By the same token, God says: Let the cow atone for the deed of the calf. " - Tanchuma, Chukat 8.

Life and death are part of the same whole. We are interconnected. Just as the cow is the purification for the next generation, so too one universe, albeit unseen, flows into t he next.
In a later segment of the Torah reading the Israelites fall sick. Moses then sets up a bronze curled snake on a large pole. Anyone who saw the serpent was cured of their illnesses. What does this mean? In the Talmud, it is explained by Rashi that the sign of the serpent was an inspiration to the people that there was a power in the universe greater than anything else. The power exceeded the strength of their sickness. It transcended life. It was even more powerful than death. Represented by the bronze serpent the power of God is over life everything.

Perhaps the real message of the Torah reading is a subtle reassurance that our eyes have limited vision. The universe is far more expansive than what we see. The borders of life and death themselves are a chok, a mystery to us, but they are governed by God.

The people of the Israel suffer in the Torah reading too. They are affected by the death of the prophetess Miriam. They too question the meaning of life and its abrupt end. Now that the generation is nearing the end of its forty year wandering they also stare at their own mortality. When God answers their plaintive call for comfort He gives them water. And then the people break out into song. Why do they sing? Because, they realize, death is not the end of them. The waters represent a continuation of a soul. That is why the Lord God says, "From Midbar to Mattanah.: Literally -- "Fom the desert to the gift." The "gift" is not temporal; it represents eternity.

Samson Raphael Hirsch taught, "Happy is he who takes note of the unseen fiery serpents that beset his path, put to flight by the Almighty." Without God all is lost. With God all is possible.

Haftarah Insight:
From the start of the tale of Yiftach there is great sorrow. As a young man he was purged from his home like noxious bile that no one could stand. Running to a distant land, Yiftach became a warlord whose ferocity was well-known. Who knows? Perhaps it was all those years of pent up rage that made him so fearless?
Yiftach is recruited by his own people to lead a war against the relentless enemies of the Jews, the Ammonites. Making a pact with the Israelite leaders, Yiftach also makes an unholy vow to God. Praying for victory Yiftach promises to deliver whatever comes to his door after winning the war against Ammon.
What is the message? Be careful with words? Perhaps. Only ask for what your heart desires? Perhaps. Do not let anger rule your thoughts? Most likely.

A Matter of Law:
Death contaminates. The Sages ask, why does death make people impure? 1. Life is holy and we need to ensure that life and death are never confused. 2. No human remains may be used for any purpose, eg bones for utensils, skin for clothes. In this way, human life is respected. 3. Since the dead make impure no one would dare ever make a shrine out of a final resting place.

Korach, An Argument II

2008-06-22T10:16:00.000-07:00

In this second segment about Korach I want to explore a different question, a question of psychology. What makes a person act they way he does? In our case, why did Korach mount an insurrection that not only resulted in many deaths but a wound that would fester for millennia to come? David wrote Psalms about Korach. Sages contemplated his actions and mulled his fate for countless centuries. He captures our imagination even now.

An odd fact. The Torah indicates that not only was Korach and his followers consumed by the earth but their houses as well. Houses, in this usage, means wealth. Not only did Korach disappear but everything connected to him, down to his last shekel, was swallowed by the ground.

Not so many centuries before Korah, Egypt was a haven for the Israelite nation. There they found safety and, for some, prosperity. The most notable man of success was Joseph. He not only saved Egypt from starvation and kept his family intact but he also became very wealthy.

In the Talmud, 1 there is a hint of the massive wealth that Joseph accumulated as viceroy. He became so rich that there was no place to store his burgeoning possession. He had to divide his gold, jewels and other valuables into three lots and hide them away. According to this tradition, Korach found one of them when he was treasurer to the Pharaoh. He took the money of Joseph. Korach was profoundly wealthy.

Now, the biblical insight of the earth swallowing the possessions of Korach begins to make sense. The loot he took from Joseph was what was lost, eaten by the earth, along with the man that held it.

Yet, there is a hidden, more powerful message at work here. Korach had no need for anything. He had more money, more possessions, more everything than the rest of the Israelites. Why then would he want to wrest control from Moses for himself? Did he not already have enough? That is precisely the hidden message of the Torah. Wealth does not make us whole. It does not bring us joy and fill in the gaping psychic holes in our life. In fact, if taken as a goal it can utterly corrupt to the point where money becomes a god.For Korach, wealth corrupted his values. Instead of focusing on the mitzvot, what God wanted from the people, he chose his own path.

1 Pesachim 119

Haftarah Insight: The prophet Samuel addresses the people as he readies himself to install Saul as the first monarch of Israel. Samuel, as a descendant of Korach, carefully picks his words to reflect what Moses says in the Torah reading. Both leaders, Moses and Samuel, declare that they have not harmed anyone. This is a telling and deliberate statement from the descendant of Korach.When Samuel concludes his speech the air is punctuated by a storm. God thus validates the words of his servant.
A Matter of Halakha:
It is vital to argue for the sake of truth. However, when the argument takes the form of personal attack that is an evil punished by God Himself.Two opinions emerge from the Talmud regarding Korach and his assault on the leadership of Moses. Rav said it is forbidden to fight like Korach against an accepted authority. Rav Ashi is a bit more lenient. Rav Ashi says that it is forbidden to continue to argue against an authority like Moses after stating the premise of the disagreement.All embrace the idea that it is a terrible wrong to assault the integrity of the person.

Korah: An Argument

2008-06-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

Human nature compels us to look for meaningful signals in the sands of the past. It is no different for Korach. The name has two meanings. One meaning of Korach is “ice.” It was not just the presence and words of Korach that was chilling as much as it was his cold and cruel attacks on Moses. The Talmud also sees the name Korach as relating to “bald.” When the land split and yawned open to swallow Korach and his cohorts the only thing left was an empty or bald patch of earth where nothing else could grow.

There are a number of fascinating insights that are revealed in the Mishna and Gemara regarding Korach.

1. The crevice of the earth that would engulf Korach was one of the last acts by God during the Creation. 1 As the sun began to set on the sixth day, just at twilight, God created the vast chasm that would only be needed thousands of years later.

Interpretation: God operates in the universe of the physical. He uses only what was crafted when the universe was born.
Interpretation: The Holy One knows the heart the potential of every individual. While He anticipates we always have a choice…

2. There are two kinds of controversy. One is for the sake of heaven; the other has nothing to do with heaven. The illustrations for the sides of such an argument are Hillel and Shammai and Korach and Moses. 2 Korach was not arguing for truth. His desire was far from noble; Korach was seeking power for himself while dethroning Moses. Hillel and Shammai, on the other hand, argued philosophy, interpretation, law and much more. Yet, these factions never reduced their disagreements to invective or tried to undermine the character of each other. They argued for God.

3. A long discussion of the punishment of Korach takes place in the Talmud. What happens to him in the narrative of the Torah is clear. What is less clear is what happens to Korach afterward. Was Korach doomed forever? Was he denied entry to the Universe Beyond? One opinion is that when the Torah states that the earth “sealed” itself after Korach, this means that he was gone forever. There was no eternal life for him. Another rabbi disagrees by saying that life-after-death is part of the ongoing promise of the Lord. No one is excluded. 3

4. Another commentator, Or HaChayim, stated that Korach went to Sheol. Sheol comes from the Hebrew, to ask or borrow. Korach went to a place, the Or HaChayim tells, where there was no death. Just eternal suffering. This is explained by Rabbah bar bar Hanah who told that once he was taken to the Sinai by a desert merchant to be shown the place where Korach disappeared. Bar bar Hanah says that he saw the crust of the earth rise and from deep inside the earth came billowing smoke. He claimed to have placed his ear close to the crack and heard, "Moses and his Torah are true; Korach and his band are deceivers." 4

Whatever is the ultimate historic truth we will never know. At the same time, the bald facts of the story point to the incontestable truth of the tale of Korach: We must be self-critical enough to always ask what is our motivation and endeavor to place love and respect before invective and hatred.

1 Avot 5:6
2 Avot 5:17
3 Sanhedrin 108-9
4 Bava Batra 74a

Shlach Lecha: The Etilology of Mistrust

2008-06-15T09:03:00.000-07:00

Shelach lecha means “Send for you."

Comment: God did not ask the Israelites to dispatch spies. The people demanded it. God had already promised the Israelites both the land and that the land was “good.” The first time God promised the land of Israel to the Jewish people was with Abraham our Father so many years before. (Genesis 13) Reiterated time and again throughout the Torah, these descendents of Father Abraham had lost all faith in the Divine Word.

There was no reason for the spies to pass through the land on a mission except if they were already filled with doubts. Just think of the revealing statement by the returning spies who claimed that "We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them." (Numbers 13:33) To imply that the Israelites looked like tiny insects to the inhabitants of the land is a depressing, and unreliable, thought.

Perhaps “Send for you” means send a message to yourself about the reality of the situation.

Comment: The word “you” is singular.

The Zohar says that the underlying reason for the spies, really princes, of each tribe, giving such a negative report was they feared for their positions. The delegates/princes/spies believed that the change from escaped slaves to freemen in Israel might mean they would lose their position as princes of their tribes. Afraid of demotion they chose to frighten the people into remaining in the wilderness. In that way the princes remained in power. Perhaps then the reason "you" is in singular form is to tell us that HaShem was specifically speaking to the spies, not the congregation of Israel. God knew their hearts were dark and was warning each of them to think clearly.

Comment: When God declared to Moses to send out the spies what He really meant was, ‘send them out for yourself, if you have so little faith in My word. Did I not already tell you that the Land would be yours?’

In other words, God was telling the doubters that He was surprised at their utter lack of faith. How could the people have so little trust in the Lord after the plagues in Egypt? After the walls of water that parted for them at the Sea? After Mt Sinai? After the manna?

Rabbi Lawrence Kushner invents, based on a midrash, a conversation between two Israelites, Reuven and Shimon. At the splitting of the sea they converse:

"What is this muck?"Shimon scowled, "There's mud all over the place!""This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!" replied Reuven."What's the difference?" complained Shimon. "Mud here, mud there; it's all the same."... For Reuven and Shimon the miracle never happened.

Could this be the problem with the spies? Is it a natural human response to life to have short-term memory lapses?

A Hasidic Master, grandson of the famed Baal Shem Tov, noted that Moses asked the spies to take note of whether the land had trees (yesh) or not (ayin). The word yesh is a positive attitude of life. It is the predisposition of the faithful to see the hand of God in everything. Ayin, on the other hand, is a note of negativism. It is the unwillingness to see hope. Life is nothing more than a battle to stop the steady downhill pull into the dank abyss.

Despite all the implicit warnings to the spies, they were oblivious to hope; their trust in God was minimal.

Noteworthy is the date when these terrible events occurred: the day the spies returned from their mission was the most awful day on the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av.

Perhaps this great tragedy is why the Torah reading takes a strange turn toward the end of the parasha. The reading ends with the commandment to wear tzitzit – fringes on the corners of our garments. Why the mitzvah for the tzitzit? “To look and remember all the commandments of the Lord, God, to do them and not follow after your own heart and your own eyes.” (15:39)

Since our ego so strongly influences our yesh, God gives us a commandment which will act as a constant reminder that we must be aware of Providence. When doubts come to mind we are supposed to look at the fringes and be assured that we are not alone.

Haftarah insight:
Once again, spies are dispatched to view the land of Israel. This time, however, takes place some forty years after the debacle in Moses' time. The two spies were Pinchas and Caleb - who went the first time with Joshua.
Joshua carefully picked two individuals whose belief and trust is God is absolute. Their insight led to the home of Rahab. An unlikely hero, Rahab saves the spies. Who could have predicted that a whore would deliver Caleb and Pinchas? Yet, Rahab succeeds where the earlier leaders of ten tribes fail.
Faith is a more important criteria for the people than credentials or familial ties.

A Matter of Halakha:
Three things were gifted to the Jewish people but will only be delivered through trial, reveals the Talmud. They are Torah, Israel and Olam HaBa.
In the first instance, Torah is earned through effort. While a gift, its true essence can only be apprehended when a person applies energy to it.
Israel too, is an inheritance but like Torah, gleaning its true power means travelling there and for the truely devoted, living in Eretz Yisrael.
Olam HaBa, while waiting for each of us, requires us to live a righteous life.
All three gifts come with a price-tag: we must earn them.

B'haalotkha: The Call

2008-06-05T17:58:00.000-07:00

We are called Israel.

Our name is taken from the patriarch, Jacob, who refused to relinquish his hold on the Angel that assaulted him in the night. Jacob fought him. Who among us would do the same? Who would have the temerity to contest a Messenger of God? The name Israel is descriptive. It means he who has struggled with God and has prevailed. Genesis 32:29

Why not just leave well enough alone? Why wrestle the angel? Why grip him until dawn? Why refuse to relinquish hold on him until Jacob received his blessing?

Idea: Had Jacob not had this chutzpah, the Jewish people would not exist today.

Much later, in Numbers 36, the unthinkable happens. Zelophad dies. Zelophad? While he was a man who might have been swiftly forgotten by time, circumstances changed this. Zelophad left behind several unmarried daughters. The rules of inheritance of the Israelite nation stated that only males could be heirs. What did this mean for Zelophad’s daughters? That they would lose their rightful inheritance when they reached the Promised Land. They took their case to Moses. Moses heard their pleas and changed the law so that they would receive their family allotment when they finally arrived.

It is remarkable that the chutzpah of these woman changed law of Israel. They lived up to the real inner meaning of the name of Israel. They fought for what they believed they deserved like their forebear.

In this Torah portion, those who attended to the dead were denied participation in the celebration of Passover. At that time only people in a state of ritual purity could eat the Paschal sacrifice. Since the Angel of Death did not take time off for the Exodus holiday some Jews were going to be excluded. The Talmud states that the real complaint came from the people that were carrying coffin of Joseph from Egypt. Here they were involved in doing a great mitzvah…and prevented from doing another.

These impure folks took their case to Moses. Feeling deprived of participation in the community celebration they asked him if there was a way they could also be part of the mitzvah of Passover. Because they made the request, a second Passover was given to them one month later, Pesach Sheni. Like the daughters of Zelophad, they sought justice and received it. Like Jacob, they were willing to take a risk, and wrestle God, if necessary to be a part of the community. From just a few people, Israelite law was changed.

Why not remain silent? These men and woman did not want to be deprived of the mitzvah of the Paschal sacrifice. Still, why not be silent? Perhaps that is not what God wants from us. Maybe God wants from us a total and silent acquiescence. In fact, the Sages, of blessed memory tell us, this whole Torah portion only comes as a result of the merit, their holy chutzpah! God does not want out silence. He wants our voice. God wants our involvement. He yearns for us to be partners in a universe that continues to grow.

There is so much loneliness in everyone. In the Torah, Adam is so lonely he feels he might die without companionship. Moses is often spoken of the lonely man of deep faith. The solitude of Abraham is well known. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto declares that even God is lonely.

Can it be that the initial question of God in the Garden of Eden – “Where are you?” never had a response. When Adam and Havvah hid among the trees of the Garden after eating the fruit God asked them the same question that has parsed the universe since that time. In reading the holy Torah we have heard the response to the hanging question, heneni, --Here am I-- several times. The giants among us answer: the Abrahams, Jacobs, Moses, bearers of the tomb of Joseph, the daughters of Zelophad and…..

Haftarah Insight:

There is a vision of a Golden menorah; the same one spoken of the the Torah reading. There is a noticeable difference, though. Here, the Kohen Gadol, High Priest, is wearing filthy garments - not the kind the Kohen Gadol ought to wear. That is because he symbolizes exile and suffering. Yet, God Himself demands that the adversaries of the Jews remove the filthy clothes from the Kohen Gadol and restore him to his glory. That redemption was demonstrated in the Hanukka story and will come again promises Zechariah.

A Matter of Law:

Under no conditions may we ever utter words of lashon ha-ra, gossip. See what happened to Miriam when she came to say some unkind - perhaps even true - words about Moses' wife? We are told to curb our instincts for gossip.

Naso: The Vow of Holiness

2008-05-30T12:36:00.000-07:00

The passage of the Nazir contains one of the most meaningful, profound and obscure ideas of the Torah. First the story in brief: A Nazir is someone who vows to abstain from all ritual impurity, cutting their hair and drinking alcohol for a specified period. Who would take such a vow?

This is what the Torah says about a Nazir: "All the days of his separation, he is kodesh, holy, to Hashem." 6:8

In other words, his abstinence makes him a holy vessel. A Nazir is a person who yearns to be close with God. Their vow-taking is a symbol of a deep desire to rid themselves of earthly pleasures so they can be more intent on God’s Will, not theirs. They want to be mentally focused, undistracted from ungodly desires.

The exact wording of the Torah states, "when a person wants to separate themselves…" Ibn Ezra reveals the inner meaning of the word separate, yaflee. He tells us that it indicates he, the Nazir, is about to do something wonderful.

Two of the three things that a Nazir vows to not touch are earthly pleasures. Who does not want to get a haircut? It makes us feel good, look good and is a bit like a mini-spa. On the other side, remember when Judaism demands that we refrain from a hair cut? We do not trim hair when in mourning. That is the clearest indication that a haircut is viewed as a pleasurable activity that distracts us from the more immediate pain.

What about alcohol? With the exception of addiction, alcohol is associated with goodness and celebration. In our faith we bless Shabbat with alcohol. Think of it: the Kiddush ends with the words mikadesh HaShabbat, "Who makes holy the Shabbat." We say this berakha over wine. Purim is also a celebration with spirits. A Nazir is someone who wants to deny themselves the pleasure of drinking.

What about contact with impurity? How is this related? Torah says that if a Nazir becomes impure he must bring two sacrifices, an asham and a hatat. The first sacrifice is because he broke his vow. The reason for the second sacrifice is less clear. We are told the Nazir brings this animal for his "soul." His soul has become somehow tainted. How?

Rashi suggests the Nazir brings this sacrifice because once he has touched the dead body he needs to begin the process of his vow from the beginning. In other words, if the Nazir took a vow to not cut his hair, drink wine, and remain pure for say, one year, and then comes into contact with the dead, the year starts from day one. Rashi declares that this is reason he brings a second sacrifice….there is another span of time when he will have to deny himself pleasure. Yet, why does the Torah consider the Nazir to be tainted?

The brilliant Rambam writes that the reason the Nazir must bring two offerings is because God does not want us to deny ourselves His gifts, our pleasures. The Holy One surely wants us to deny things which are forbidden but not things that are allowed! In fact, we are directed to use pleasures like alcohol for the sake of God---which is exactly what we do each Friday night! The taint of the Nazir is that the time he needs to refrain from enjoying the bounty of God for a longer stretch of time.

What does this all mean to us?
1. The Holy One, blessed be He, created a universe for our pleasure. Each gift has a use a vehicle back to our Maker.
2. There may be times when we desire to place personal restrictions on our self in order to rid ourselves of spiritual toxins. Torah allows for this…for a limited period.
3. Vows taken are holy. They must not be broken or made on a whim.
4. Someone who makes a personal vow for the sake of God becomes a holy vessel. Desire for devekute, proximity to the Lord, is a holy endeavor.

Haftarah Insight:

The power of words is paramount in Judaism. Manoah refuses to believe his wife. Why does he not trust her? Later when convinced that the vision really happened and the angel actually appeared, Manoah and his wife swear that their child-to-be-born will be a Nazirite. He will become the warrior feared by the Philistines, Samson. Yet, because the young Samson abandoned the vows his parents took for him he is shorn of his strength.

A Matter of Law:

Several important ideas emerge from this parasha. One of them is the word, "Amen". Meaning -faith - when a person utters the word "Amen" it is so powerful that it is equivalent to saying the intial statement. For example, said after a blessing, "Amen" is the same as having said the blessing. Since Judaism places great importance on words we must be circumspect before responding "Amen" to any statement.

Bamidbar: Counting on Faith

2008-05-23T13:08:00.000-07:00

The Torah reading for this week, the fourth book of the Bible, contains a census. The details of the parasha are parceled out deliberately as the Torah means to clearly delineate each of the tribes. The tribes are painstakingly separated both in name and in fact. Imagine the twelve tribes sorted out by their relationship to one of the sons of Jacob. Each took their place next to their sisters and brothers and cousins. Then under a specific banner they were singly counted. Every name is mentioned. Then they were supposed to march tribe by tribe into the Promised Land of Canaan.

What was supposed to happen and what actually happened are two different tales. In fact, the Israelites were bothered by their new freedom. Yes, bothered. The change from slave to freeman was too great a transition for them to make. That is why the complaining about water and food and the missing elements from Egypt began almost immediately after liberation. Perhaps the biggest act of rebellion was when the people bought the “lie” of the spies. The quarreling over whatever the issue was not at the heart of the problem. The real problem was a lack of trust.

Rabbi Ovadiah Sforno commented that had the Jews accepted the direction from God; had they believed and maintained their belief in the God that liberated them, fed them, gave them Torah they would have marched right into Israel. The enemies of the land would have scattered at the sight of them carrying their tribal banners. Instead, doomed to wander for a full generation, the Israelites entered Canaan under Joshua in a different fashion.

When the next generation of Israelites crossed into Canaan they were not counted. The names were not specified. Only the heads of the tribes are mentioned in the Book of Joshua. Why the difference? Because, tells Sforno, the Israelites lost something when belief left them. Instead of defining themselves through God, Torah and trust they defined themselves by other external criteria. They worried about the Canaanites. They agonized over food. They argued about water. The identity of the Israelites came from disbelief.

An analogy. When Adam and Havvah met the snake in the Garden, the snake convinced them that the fruit of the forbidden tree was better for them than the other one. They took it. With that act, the two primal beings were sent into exile. Much later, Moshe would confront the nemesis of the Jewish people, Pharaoh, and defy him. Moshe showed the power of God as he exercised control over the serpents of Pharaoh. He grabbed the tail, trusting in God, and the snake became a staff. This act of faith was the beginning off the end of the exile for the Jewish nation.

The snake is an emblem of trust or disbeleief. No wonder later generations conceived of the snake as the yetser hara, the evil side, because it had the power to sway humanity into exile...but it also had the power to redeem it.

We can transform any act into something else with the necessary tool of faith. In fact, the gematria – numeric value – of snake is the same as messiah. In other words, an end to the ultimate exile will be granted when we each take the serpent by its tail - an act of faith.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, the Kotzker Rebbe, was a challenging Hassidic master. The Kotzker demanded an absolute, personal search for truth. Listen to his words:

"If I am me because you are you, and you are you because I am me, then I am not me and you are not you. But if I am me because I am me, and you are you because you are you, then I am me and you are you."

In the final analysis, we must be accountable individually. We are responsible for ourselves. When we have the necessary ingredient of life, faith, God counts us, loves us, and declares, “Now you are a whole person.”

Haftarah Insight:
Hosea does not give up. Faced with a painful life - a woman, his wife, who abandons him and the desolation of having been abandoned for another - Hosea maintains his faith. Despite all she does, Hosea believes in the power of love, return and redemption. In much the same way, Hosea teaches us that God does not give up on us. He still loves, believes in our potential and awaits our return. "You are the children of the Living God!" the prophet proclaims.

A Matter of Law:
From this Torah parsha we derive the idea that people are never to be counted. If a census needs to be taken we use the method devised by the Torah itself, we count possessions - shekels here - not souls. The law is extrapolated to even refusing to count the presence of ten for a minyan.

B'hukotai: The Blessing

2008-05-20T14:17:00.000-07:00

At the end of every Amida comes the prayer for peace.

The conclusion of the Priestly blessing contains the blessing for peace. Numbers 6:26

Me'am Loez reminds us that the can even erase the holy name of God in order to make peace between a wife and husband.

As the congregation ends it service with the Kaddish Shalem the final phrase is a hope of a universe of peace.

The Sages, of blessed memory, went so far as to note that only one face of the moon can ever be seen from the earth. They pondered why the other side did not reveal itself and reasoned that the unseen side of the moon must be defective, somehow wrong. God went on to create the heavens in such a way as to preserve the dignity of the moon! That is why we are never permitted to see it.

A glowing image of a life imagined is presented in the parasha of B’hukotai. First rain and produce are promised by God. Then comes a harvest of unparalleled proportions. The crops will be so abundant that the seasons of growth will run into one another. “You will eat your bread until you are full and dwell securely in the land.” Dangerous beasts will pose not threat. Warfare will not exist. “And I will give you peace.”

The midrash tells that when Aaron died 80,000 mourners attended his funeral. And every one of them was named Aaron! Aaron, the prince of peace, was vigilant for signs of fracture in a family. When he heard a couple quarreling or found out that a woman and man had grown distant Aaron would approach them. He would find the right words and actions to bring the couple back together. When they reconciled and bore a son they named him after the peace-maker. Devarim rabba, Shoftim

What does this story teach? Peace comes only after the act. Aaron was able to reconcile two people who had come to hate one another after effort. Hand-wringing accomplishes nothing. Talking with others about the problem makes no difference except to bring about more frustration. Only Aaron’s engagement in the world made him an instrument of peace.

The same is true of the Amida. Only after the prayers asking God for wisdom and healing, opening the heart to Jerusalem and the voices of our ancestors, does the word “shalom” enter our prayers and mind. In other words what the Amida is subtly trying to communicate is that peace comes as a result of effort; it is not a reward for simply breathing.

The Kaddish Shalem offers the same moral: ask God, pray for welfare, pour energy and action into making a change and peace is the ultimate reward. Just as the midrash indicates that even the moon’s pride is protected (and we perform the same action when we say the blessing over wine on Shabbat. Remember, we cover the Hallah-bread because we are not supposed to make the berakha of the wine superior, ie. first, to the one over bread) so too we extrapolate the idea of protecting the fragile ego of another person a priority. 'Is it not more important to do so between family members?' asks Aaron.

It is vital to note in this parasha that has so many magnificent blessings in it, nowhere does God promise us peace until we choose to act in concert with Him. The Holy One, blessed be He, tells that He will pour unending blessings on us and all we have to do is sit and “eat our bread until full.”

That does not sound difficult, does it? What is so difficult about being full? Being full means being satisfied. It means sharing our gifts. It means an end to jealousy. When we are full we do not feel an insatiable hunger to get what they have or better. It means that we work to eradicate hatred from our hearts because we are content with the numerous gifts we possess. Being “full” means that we try to share with others the message of reconciliation and hope. “You will eat your bread until you are full” teaches us to work for goodness. Peace will then be ours to hold.

Haftarah Insight:
Jeremiah is the voice of hope. He cries out for his people to listen to the words of Torah. "Take it into your heart!" he begs. "Let your soul's light shine through the veil of indifference!"

A Matter of Law:
"Immerse yourself in the study and practice of Torah."
- Rabbi Yehuda Leib of Prague

B'har: The Shabbat of Trust

2008-05-12T13:23:00.000-07:00

“Six days you shall work and on the seventh day you shall rest; from plowing and harvesting you shall rest.”

This text, from Exodus 34: 21, tells us to observe the Shabbat and, for some strange reason, chooses to use the example of refraining from planting and reaping on the Shabbat. Why did the Holy Text use this example and not, say, refraining from work? Or not shearing sheep? Or not making fire?

Rashi explains that the Torah uses this specific example because it wants us to be aware that it is speaking of two different sorts of Shabbat. One of them is the seventh day of the week where we are supposed to leave the earth alone and the other is the seventh year when we are told to let the land lie, the Shvi’it year. Both are equally valuable.

So holy is the Shvi’it, explains Rashi, that even the sixth and eighth years are tinged by the holiness of the seventh year. That is, explains the French rabbi, accidental produce that came up on the eighth year of the land is also holy and plowing at the close of the sixth year is forbidden.

The Torah reading of this week, B’har, opens us with God speaking to Moshe at mount Sinai, saying, "Speak to the Children of Israel and tell them: When you come to the land which I am giving to you, the land must keep a Shabbat to God ...". Leviticus 25:1

The concept of a "Shabbat to God" was interpreted with great zeal by our Sages, of blessed memory. They stressed that the observance of the Shvi’it was critical to our well-being. Read their words:

Come and see how difficult the Dust of Shvi’it is: A man who deals in produce of the Shvi’it year will eventually have to sell his chattel ... then his property ... and his house ... eventually his daughter as a handmaid ... he will have to borrow with interest ... and will be forced to sell himself ... to someone who worships idols, which will cause him to do the same. Kiddushin 20a

The phrase, “A Shabbat to God” is stated at the outset of our parsha. The expression can also mean “a return to God." In thinking about the usual Shabbat, the seventh day of the week, our tradition sees this as a day that restores the soul to the body. Shavat va’yinfash states the Ten Commandments instructing us on observing the Shabbat day. On the holy Shabbat our nefesh is given a glimpse of eternity. In that sense, Shabbat is about returning to God. Shavat va’yinafash means that our soul, nefesh, is reawakened and re energized. The day and its observances allow us to be soulfully connected to our Maker.

Shabbat is about reestablishing our relationship with the Almighty. It is a return to God. The Chernobyl Rebbe wrote that the word "Shabbat" -- shin-bet-tav -- stands for "Shabbat Bo Teshuvah" -- in Shabbat there is a return to the Lord.

After seven Shvi’it cycles (7 X 7= 49 years), there is the Jubilee year when land is returned to its original owners and Jewish servants are freed. There are three Shabbats observed by our people; Shabbat, Shvi’it and the Jubilee. Each one contains the nuance of returning back to God. The Sefer HaChinuch tells us this to make us aware that everything belongs to God. We are simply travelers on the earth.

Perhaps there is another lesson here for modernity. Life surges forward with ever-greater velocity. The speed of innovation and the attendant demands on our soul are dizzying.

Who heard of a cordless phone thirty years ago? Who lives without a cell phone today??

I would not advise investing in maps. GPS systems will soon be in every car.

When was the last time you saw a floppy disc drive? Computer technology does not advance, it races.

How long will it be until there are no more gasoline driven cars?

Judaism does not seek to resist or demonize technology. Our task is to harness it, though, and not be harnessed by it.

I cannot help but wonder whether the terrifying curse that is mentioned in the Talmud above may contain kernels of truth. Perhaps we can end up selling all our possessions and ultimately our soul if we are not watchful guardians.

Amalek, the dreadful enemy of the Jews has the same gematria, numerical value, as doubt, safek. In the Talmud, Rabbi Yehuda said in the name of Rav: Had the Jewish people only kept the first Shabbat, no nation or people could ever have had control over them. It says in Torah, "It happened that on the seventh day some of the people went out to collect [manna].” Immediately afterward the Torah reveals, "Amalek came . . ." Shabbat 118b. Amalek was the doubt that God knew what was best for the nation of Israel. Amalek were the lingering and festering thought that perhaps humanity knows better.

Maybe the lessons of the past, the doubts, the idea that somehow we are made of different stuff than all the generations that pack human history, is there to teach us to trust God.

Perhaps that is why when speaking of the seventh and Jubilee years the Torah promises that if we observe these Sabbatical laws " . . . You will dwell securely upon it." Leviticus 25:19 Trust is asked of us. Trust can give us blessing and make us whole.

Emor: The Way of the Holy

2008-05-06T09:19:00.000-07:00

How do we become holy?

There is an avalanche of hundreds of books promising a holy, elevated life cropping up everywhere. People are hungry to learn the path to holiness. Each religious group has its own book and manual to point the way. What is the Jewish response? What is the authentic Jewish way of holiness?

Torah portions in Leviticus are filled with examples of holiness. Emor is no exception. Here are some samples:

-Kohanim must remain holy by conducting the sacrifices in a proper way, not making
intentional scars in their flesh and remaining pure. 21:6
-Those who touched blood, or who are exposed to death, may not come near the
Sanctuary. 22:1-8
-Laws of martyrdom are given to remain holy even in death. 22:32
-Days of meeting God are finely detailed as a means of becoming holy. 23:1
-The Festivals must be remembered and observed. 23:4-44

There are numerous examples of ways in which holiness can be accessed. A single strand of thought runs through them all, intention.

Unlike deep, mysterious and mystical texts, the Torah is deliberate in laying out the foundation of a holy life. Holiness is not, as we might suspect, meditating out in the wilderness or an obscure coded text that needs to be deciphered.

Chaim Vital, Kabbalist of 16th century Safed wrote a small introduction to prayer. “Before one begins one’s prayer, one must say, ‘Behold, I accept upon myself the commandment of you shall love your neighbor like yourself.’”

Holiness begins when we take seriously our relationship to God and world. Reaching out to God through prayer is not abstract; prayer is not a magical incantation. The petitioner does not utter some lofty words in a vacuum. Real prayer does not exist outside of physical action! Our mouth is an echo to the path that our feet tread. Prayer is not entirely in the hands or feet either. The heart, head, mouth and hands have to work together.

Vital teaches that prayers commence with a concrete statement of responsibility towards other people. “Behold, I accept upon myself the commandment…” That is why holy men and women in Judaism do not live in hermitages. Their thoughts have to correlate to their actions; they must translate them into deeds.

That is why a holy life begins with intention. By the way, the word intention in Hebrew translates as kavanah, which we often think of as fervency in prayer. It is not. Kavanah is simply intention. It is will and focus. With a serious attitude that translates into an act, we become holy.

When the kohen refrains from becoming tamey, impure, because that is what God wants, the kohen becomes holy. That is kavanah. When he refuses to mark his flesh as the other peoples do, he stays holy (the modern equivalent would be tattoos. Much in vogue now people see tattoos as marks of beauty.) Yet, Torah deliberately forbids such markings of the flesh. So, in the instance where a person desires to adorn their body with a tattoo but does not because they are following God’s dicta, they are holy. This too, is kavanah. Again, it is doing the Will of the Almighty with a heart that is invested in the work of the hands.

It is not enough to mourn the loss the Jew must also care for the dead. It is not enough to know that lashon ha-ra is evil we must fight against it. While it may be enticing to eat trafe the way of the holy is to refrain from eating forbidden things. Kavanah is the beginning of holiness.

The power of the next Holy Day, Shavuot is remarkable. Ruth, the heroine of the story, is a Moabite. The Moabites were the enemy. First mentioned in Genesis 19: 32-38 the Moabites remained irritants of the Jewish nation for centuries. Numbers 25 specifically regulates the interaction with them. Yet, a member of that tribe, Ruth, not only married a Jewish man but would ultimately bring about the greatest king in the history of Israel, David.

What is the moral of the story? We can become anything, even holy. We can rise above our inclinations. We can overcome our past; we can transcend our baggage. The reason why Ruth is such a powerful book and story is read on the anniversary of the Giving of the Torah is because even this Moabite woman, who had everything against her, came under the wings of God and changed the story of the Jewish people forever.

Kedoshim, Holiness

2008-04-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

In confronting Moses, Korah declares, “All Israel is holy.” 1 There is no contesting the truth of the claim of Korah. The people are holy, as Rashi explains, because they each heard the Word of God when they stood at Sinai. That moment transformed them forever.

The Torah reading this week called kedoshim seems to say something different. It states, “You shall be holy.” Were they holy? Or were they to become holy? Was the Israelite nation that saw and heard God kodesh, holy, because of the encounter? Or did holiness come to them because of some other event?

Rav Soleitchik observed that every Jew has an innate kedusha. There exists inside of us a soul, a kernel of holiness, that we always carry. Yes, each one of us is holy tells Rav Soleitchik. Yet, Korah was exaggerating in one not-so-obvious way.

There are levels of holiness. The degree of holiness depends upon the realization and accessing of that soul-gift. True, our soul is innately holy but if the soul is ignored or squashed, its voice can go unheard. It is almost as if it does not exist. At any moment the soul could awaken and break through the barriers that have kept it contained but until then it passes unseen, unacknowledged, as if it did not exist.

When the soul-voice is heard the physical actions of the person can allow it to ascend making the person more holy. In other words, holiness is not an absolute; it happens in degrees. There is less and more holy. This is the meaning of this Torah reading where God declares, “You shall be holy.” The people obviously had holiness within them but they could still spiritually grow. Rashi again helps us when he reveals that when a Jewish person resists the temptation to give in to the sitra achra, the dark side, they rise in holiness. That is why the Torah uses the future tense, shall, which tells us that the path to holiness is always open. One can aspire to greater holiness.

In the same verse, Leviticus 18:1, God adds that we can become holy because He, God, is holy. This is not a platitude. The Safat Emet explains that the holiness of the One God is limitless. There is not end to His kedusha. There is no point when a person can declare - as Korah seems to do - that they have already reached the highest level of holiness. They can never say that there is no need to do anything more. On the contrary, our potential for growth and holiness is without end.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev goes even further by saying that every time we observe mitzvot and grow in holiness God also increases in holiness. We are inseparably connected to God and our actions inflate the holiness of the Master. Is this true? Can it possibly be that we make God more holy?

What Levi Yitzchak means is that the more we grow in holiness the greater our awareness of holiness becomes. At first our vision is limited by our understanding. We see little and we understand little. As our understanding of things holy expands, we begin to see more and more of the radiance of haKadosh Barukh Hu everywhere. Our limitations no longer hold us back from seeing the grandeur of God. The expansiveness of God seems to grow.

The Talmud 2 explains that holiness hangs on the way we connect with God and Torah. In fact, the word for holy, kodesh, really means separating. When we take the time to categorize our speech, behavior and observance in terms of mitzvot, we separate or infuse our behavior with holiness. The simple act of thinking about what we do and asking, “Is this what God wants from me?” fills every space with kedusha.

Sanctified living is about the small matters of life. Looking at the world through the lens of what God wants of us means weighing our words very carefully before speaking. It means thinking about how we conduct business. It involves considering how we dress and our mode of sexual behavior. Even eating is a part of our identity. Each nuance of living can be guided by holiness. This is what the Torah means when it expresses the thought “You shall be holy.” Do not stop growing. Walk with God.

1 Bamidbar 16:3
2 Yevamot 20a

Gettin' That Feelin Back...

2008-04-22T13:55:00.000-07:00

It is abundantly clear from the Haggadda: Every person is obligated to view themselves "as if" they had gone from Egypt.

How often in the Torah are we asked to imagine, “as if”? Can you think of any instances? One of the few times in Torah that the term is used is when God tells Abram that he gives the patriarch the great land of Israel. 1 Rashi, knowing that the gift would not be actually given to Abram until many, many years later, interprets the words of God “as if” the land were his now. In other words, Abram was supposed to imagine his gift, even though it had not yet arrived.

Few are the places where Judaism ever commands us to 'feel' anything. Mitzvot tend to regulate behavior, not thoughts and mind-sets. Laws are needed for the governance of a society. It does not really matter whether we agree with them or not. What is important is that we have laws. That is why Rabbi Hanina, of the second century, said that without laws, people would each other alive. 2 But what about feeling? Is this really necessary for a society to function? Does it matter at all what a person feels as long as they follow the law?

There is an argument in the Talmud over which idea ought to take precedence when teaching people: action or study. 3 Which of the two ideas is greater? If a person can only choose one of them, study or observance, which should they choose? In the ultimate analysis, the Sages decide that study takes precedence over action because it can lead to action while the reverse may not be true.

Then why is so little emphasis placed on feeling? If the rabbis believed that study is greater, why would they not also take the position that feeling is also a powerful spur to action? Isn't feeling also a powerful incentive to practice mitzvot?

Sure, we are commanded by the Torah to 'love' God. Love is an emotion, a feeling. What about the other feelings that should accompany our actions? Shouldn't we be expected to invest emotional energy into our performance of mitzvot?

Could it be that actions, mitzvot, leads to feelings? And not the other way around? Or perhaps were the Sages concerned that if we placed too much importance on the way people feel they would probably place the emphasis on intent over the Word of the Holy One? Maybe they would be prone to dismiss the power of observance in favor of feeling? That would be tragic.

Pesach is an exception. Here we are commanded to feel. Rambam goes so far as to instruct us that we must experience the immediate sensation of fleeing from the clutches of slavery. 4 The seder is not a bland ceremony, the master tells us, but an emotional call to feel the shame of the slavery, the power of deliverance, and the majesty of the miraculous departure.

Whenever we recite the Hallel psalms in a religious setting they are introduced with a blessing. The only exception is the Pesach seder. During the seder we simply sing as we segue from the words of the Haggadda to the inspiring words of King David. So why do we not say a blessing? Why do we just burst into song?

Teaches Rav Hai Gaon, we do not say a blessing for this Hallel because we throw ourselves soulfully into the joy of song. Pesach is meant to be an inspired moment. We sing to God of deliverance. We sing to God of rescue. We sing to God in amazement that the slavery has ended and we are free.

Perhaps after we have realized the fundamental principles of Pesach, after the long hours of scrubbing, covering, cooking, and entertaining we can open our hearts and simply sing. That would be a great thing. At that moment our souls can reach the highest levels of spirituality. "As if" becomes the reality of liberation. More, it becomes the nexus that brings us true freedom. Each Jew must feel "as if" they had been personally delivered from bondage.

Albert Einstein said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” For us, on Pesach, feeling is the ultimate triumph.

1 Genesis 15:18
2 Pirkay Avot 3:2
3 Yevamot 109b
4 Hilchot Hametz U’Matzah

Aharay Mot: Where Life Becomes Alive

2008-04-13T18:38:00.000-07:00

Two disparate ideas converge in this parsha.

The first is the Avodah service that we read and hear on Yom Kippur. The other seemingly random idea is the admonition of HaShem to Aaron that he may not enter in the mishkan, Tabernacle, any time he wished. Aaron could only come when he was summoned by the Holy One, blessed be He.

The Avodah service is one of the least meaningful parts of Yom Kippur for modern Jews. Many progressive synagogues have eliminated the service entirely or have re-written it with a different meaning. It a nutshell, the Avodah contains the lengthy tale of the kohen preparing for a meeting with God in the Holy of Holies. From immersing in the frigid waters of the mikveh to the numerous changes of clothes to the tying of a rope around the kohen’s ankle to pull him out of the Holy of Holies if his actions and intent were not appropriate and he died to the poetic verses extolling the grandeur of the kohen gadol, the entire story is long and far removed from our life.

Most of the story is consumed with the arduous and meticulous preparations of the kohen. It is an instruction manual, not a gripping nail-biter. Finally, the climax of the story tells of two goats; one carrying the sins of Israel and the other to be offered up to God. It is an exhaustive, long and dry narrative.

In the next section of the parsha Aaron was reminded by God of the death of his two sons. Remember they came into the mishkan without preparation and subsequently died? The cautionary note to Aaron was that he was no longer welcome to come into the mishkan, except on special days.

Both stories reveal a great truth for our time. They are a great paradigm for our era.

Listen: Everything begins with a pinpoint of desire. When we want to buy a car we do research to find the one that best fits our need. We would not buy the first automobile we see on the lot. Purchasing a house requires thinking, reading and close examination. Running a marathon means deliberate and careful training. The same could be said for a business plan, an important meeting, writing a book, painting a picture…..

Praying is no different. It is not a passive endeavor. For some, it is gathering with other like-minded people for mutual support. At other times we come because we feel soulfully empty. At yet other times we come because we need healing. A religious service made meaningful when we come with an agenda. Unprepared for the event, the moment is squandered. We enter into a holy sanctuary with a purpose in mind.

For the children of Aaron the experience in the mishkan ended in death and mourning. For us the tale winds up in a withering spiritual desert, which may be worse than death because it is a life devoid of meaning. Both tales have the identical meaning: make for yourself a life worth living. Prepare for that event. Be aware. Open your senses to all that the universe has to offer.

One hasidic rebbe was asked what he did in the solitary time he spent before davenning each morning. He said, “I pray that I might pray.” Against this, there is a comment by a contemporary sage who said that ‘when someone says ‘let us pray’ you know he is ignorant. In other words it is no simple task to utter true words of prayer. It requires focus, determination and desire. To be so frivolous with words in believing that prayer can be conjured up like a cup of tea is a misuse of prayer
*
Later in the Torah reading there is the phrase, “You shall observe My laws and keep My statutes to walk in them…” Leviticus 18:4

In the Talmud, a question about this is raised. What does it mean "walk in them"?

In its inimitable style Talmud answers that we must strive to make mitzvot, the commandments of God, a priority. They ought to foremost in our thoughts, not second or third but first. When our primary focus is meting out the Word of God; when nothing else comes into conflict with fulfilling the mitzvot, the force of the cosmos - every breath and action - becomes imbued with strength.

The Sefat Emet , Reb Yehudah Leib Alter, talks about his beloved zayde, grandfather, who said that this pasuk directs us to fold almost our energy into every act in order to make it holy. What does this mean? It means that we need to take ourselves, our actions and interactions very seriously. It means that the words we utter and actions we undertake can have cosmic repercussions. Done for the sake of the Almighty our life becomes holy and meaningful.

Note that he did not say we must devote all our energy to God: that is too much to ask of anyone. Yet, if we try to elevate a perfunctory and unthinking life through conscious living; if we know that there is a God who intensely cares about us and what we do, every act has the potential of being holy.

Metzora: Life's Pain

2008-04-03T12:39:00.000-07:00

The episode in Torah portion this week commences with a disease called metzora. While the exact english name of the disease is not clear, metzora was a consuming whitish skin lesion that was likely contagious. The kohen, as judge, determined whether the disease was the dreaded metzora or not.

"...he shall be brought to the Kohen. Then the Kohen will go out...."

So what was the truth? There is a contradiction here: Did the kohen go out to the metzora? Or did the metzora go out to the kohen? What actually happened?

The general consensus of the Sages is that the metzora went to kohen. Why would they say that the metzora goes out to kohen? Because, they said, the afflicted must accept their condition before they can reach out for help. There are times when the loneliness of sitting in pain becomes so unbearable that all we want to do is sit and cry. All strength leaves us, it seems to just evaporate out of our pores, so that we remain alone, shivering, frightened, and feeling totally helpless.

There are other times when we just ignore the toothache, pretend that there is no lump or go on using the aching leg. It is critical to reach out your heart toward those who can offer help. We need someone to sit and hold our hand and take away the awful isolation. Help will only come when we venture out and seek it.

A simple example is when we are ill we need to see a doctor. We require assistance to get through the malaise. In our more complex universe, far more ailments cannot be assuaged by a paid professional. An operation or a prescription for drugs may not be the cure for what pains us. Those are the times we need to be strong enough to reach out beyond our ego and call for comfort. That is why the Sages tell us that when we are hurting we need to reach for help, not withdraw into a pitiful state of separation and perhaps ultimately self-loathing.

We have a family to support us. We form communities so that we will not have to endure the pain alone.

But it is the responsibility of the community not to wait for that to happen. For this reason, the kohen also needs to go out to the metzora.

Talmud teaches that the “metzora needs healing." 1 Is this true? Is this what the Torah reading is about? Healing the afflicted? Does the kohen facilitate healing? Is he doctor as well as priest?

It does not appear that the kohen effects healing at all. All he does is assess the afflicted one. The kohen ventures out to examine the metzora and determines whether this is an abrasion, a scar or the disease. If he finds them to be contaminated, the metzora is then exiled to outside the community. Rabbi Harold Kushner has taught that the healing to which the Talmud alludes is about the kohen making the time to physically go out and visit the afflicted himself. Such an act makes the one who has the lesions feel like they are important enough to be visited by Aaron and his progeny. That the head of the religious community goes out himself facilitates healing.

Idea: Maybe when we call someone who is sick we are performing a greater symbolic task than we even know.

Even a kohen can become metzora. What happens then? The kohen must go to another kohen. Is that difficult? Is it hard to admit to our weaknesses?

Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, a great nineteenth century moralist, made a powerful observation: A person has one eye weaker than the other. The weaker eye sees the faults in others, whereas the stronger eye sees your own faults.

It requires no special gift to be critical of others. For far too many people criticism comes easily. To be self-reflective, though, takes strength of character. Never let pride stand in way of wholeness, reaching out for healing, said Salanter.

“Life and death come from the mouth,” states the Talmud. In fact, the metzora disease is believed to come as a Divine punishment for engaging in slander. The action of a penitent soul would be to bring two birds to God once they have realized their sin.

One of the sacrificial birds was released while the other offered on the altar. Why was a bird brought and not another kind of animal, say, a lamb? Because a bird does not stop singing. Its voice continues to flow out its throat. In much the same way, the words uttered by the metzora flowed unceasingly. They never stopped to think about the damage they were doing or the sin they were committing.

The Sages also ask why one bird was killed and the other released. Midrash Lekach Tov provides an insight. The midrash declares that there are two kinds of speech. One kind of speech is when we bring good things to the world by monitoring what we say and thinking before speaking. The other is when we can bring destruction into the world by reckless, thoughtless words. One bird needs to die just as the evil thoughts expressed need to be to be extirpated. That does not mean though that we are to keep silent, never saying a word, for fear of saying something bad. Words can also bring great harmony. Just as one of the birds goes free so too when we offer healing and goodness our words fly and generate.

1 Megilla 8B

Tazria: The Impurity of Life

2008-03-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

The first of the Great Ten Commandments reads: I am the Lord your God. You shall have no other gods besides Me.

What is remarkable about the event when the Commandments were given is that it was a revelation to an entire people. Until now God had only revealed His Essence and Will to a chosen few. Noah, Abraham, Hagar, Sarah, Jacob, Isaac and others were the pre-Sinai recipients of the Word of God. They were singled out.

After the Sinai experience revelation was again restricted to individuals. Moses, Manoah, Hannah, Solomon and many prophets heard God. Throughout the long epochs from then until our day, never again were a people given the Message, only individuals.

One of the cited reasons for the mass revelation was that no one could proclaim that they alone were privy to the legislation of God. No person could assert they were singled out as special by the Holy One, blessed be He. Every participant at Sinai was equal. With this simple understanding of the greatest event in history will unfold the highest ideal for humanity.

*
Tazria is a skin ailment. Some Sages declared that the skin disease came because the person was flawed. They had sinned through the words they spoke. The telltale mark on their flesh was an outward punishment of the malicious slander they spread. Only atonement could wash that mark away. Other commentators told that it was simply a disease that needed to be diagnosed, quarantined and cured. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was both.

What is most telling from the Text is that when a person was seen to have the affliction people would cry out, tameh!, tameh!. "Unclean!" "Unclean!"

What humiliation! Not only did they suffer the embarrassment of a visible disease but it was trumpeted throughout the people. There was no hiding from their shame now.

The Talmud also questions why Tameh! would be shouted by neighbors. It reveals that the word Tameh! was the signal to pray for the person that was marked by the skin disease. People were moved by the announcement to come out of their homes, their workplaces and pray for the person that was wracked by emotional pain. In other words, they were not shunned or turned out. People were moved to action on their behalf.

Is this human behavior? Do people really act this way? If it were true there would be no leper colonies. If people behaved this way at public gatherings people would make as much conversation with the one-footed man as the well-coiffed debutante. Do they?

Elsewhere in the Talmud there is a fascinating and insightful discussion about good and bad prayers. What makes one worthy and another unworthy? In a dramatic example they give the following case: A person is coming home and they see flames leaping out of a house. Immediately they fear the worst and they utter a prayer, May it not be my house burning!

That is a vain and awful prayer, the Talmud tells. Why? we may wonder. Is that not a normal reaction? Would not most people say a similar prayer? Please let the house not be mine!

The Talmud instructs us it is indeed a reckless and vain prayer. In essence the prayer contains the undercurrent that it would be better if it were the blazing house of someone else. Not mine. The prayer wishes the pain be placed on another person. We are deliberately told to not say a prayer that insinuates another to suffer.

Somewhere deep in our minds is the belief that if another person loses, we win. Where our brother fails we succeed. While we may overtly pity the entrepreneur that flounders and drowns many of us thank God it was not us.... Now there is a better chance we have to succeed with less competition!

The message of Sinai is that we all stand together. Sinai seeks to change that mindset. When a single limb of the body is injured the body as a whole suffers.

In one of the most emotionally laden tales I have ever read about the Shoah, a father begged his rabbi to tell him what to do. It was erev Rosh Hashanna 1944 when hundreds of young boys were rounded up by the Nazis to be taken to the furnace the next day at Auschwitz. Many men found that their only sons were taken from them. One man went to a rabbi and told him that he had the ability to save his son from the murderers. They both understood he Nazis were determined to murder a specific number of Jews. If his son were saved another would die in his place. What should I do? he cried to his teacher. 1

What would Judaism teach? How would it instruct us to make a decision?

May God protect all His people, it should never happen again, and yet we are faced with similar quandaries every day. How we choose to slander and malign others for their apparent deficits happens countless times each day. If we decide to cut off lashon hara, idle chatter about people or ruthless slander, that will have an impact on the way we view ourselves and the way we see others.

Perhaps the deep lesson of the Torah is that every person is tameh and needs our concern. As broken creatures the worst thing we can ever do is break another one of the creations of God.

1 Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Meisels in Medkadshay HaShem

Shmini, Silence

2008-03-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

We do not know what we do not know.

Sometimes we even do not know what we do know.

Man was endowed with reason. When the first being was cast into life in the Garden, the Torah teaches that Adam was created in the “image” and “likeness” of his Creator. Rashi commented that the first description means that the first man was cast into a certain mold. The second description, likeness, points to the man having the power of reason. It is our gift of understanding.

From the time when God took the golem-form from the earth and breathed into the Breath of Life to the moment of overwhelming lust to have open eyes to the universe we became people in search of ourselves.

We fervently desire to understand what life means. We want to know why we live. What is our purpose? That is why stories such as the one told here is Shmini are so vexing. They raise more question than provide answers.

Here, Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron, die. Near the holy altar of God they are enveloped by a conflagration that excoriated their inner being while leaving their body/husk intact. A pitiful father has watched his sons die. What does this passage mean?

Some scholars tell that Nadav and Avihu were drunk. Intoxicated, they approached the holy of holies and were punished by a burst of heavenly fire.

Others tell that Nadav and Avihu were presumptuous. They came into the holy of holies unbidden. For the trespass they died.

Another commentator expresses the belief that they offered up incense out of their zealousness rather than follow the instructions of their father.

What is the truth? The Midrash and Talmud are littered with numerous ideas about the death of the two young kohanim. Some make sense while others leave us incredulous.
God comes to father Aaron to have a word with him after the inferno that left his sons dead. Through Moses, He tells him, “I will be honored in front of all the people.”

B’krovai ekadesh. “The ones whom I love will be made holy,” said the Holy One.

At these words Aaron was silent. Vayidom.

Did Aaron understand what God meant? Was his silence the response to hearing the explanation of God? Mute acceptance?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **********
Many, many years later a great Sage, Rabbi Yehudah, lay dying. His disciples arranged themselves around his bed and prayed for their teacher. They looked into the holy books, fasted and begged God to listen to their prayers and grant their leader life.

The servant of Rabbi Yehudah left the group and opened her heart before God. She prayed, “In the upper world they want our master. They call him. In the lower world the rabbis keep Rabbi Yehudah with their prayers. Listen, Lord, to the voice from Above. Let them be the stronger.”

She then took a jug and hurled it onto the ground so that all the holy men were momentarily distracted from their prayers. In that instance the Angel of Death kissed the venerable leader.

What did the maid servant do? Was she guilty of killing the holy rabbi? In distracting the Sages from their prayers she lifted the protective veil keeping Rabbi Yehudah alive. Was she to be blamed for his death?

One the Sages, Bar Kappara, investigated and found the girl. He saw what she had done and then commented, “Both angels and human beings were clinging to the holy Ark. The angels overpowered the humans and the Ark has been taken from us.”

Bar Kappara told his contemporaries that Rabbi Yehuda was like the holy Ark. They were both gone. What is gone is gone.

Yet, Bar Kappara did not blame the servant. He did not rail against the heavens. The end of the story closes abruptly.

Vayidom. And he was silent.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **********
Rabban Yohanan ben Zakki was in mourning for his son. His colleague and friend came to console him. Elazar ben Azariah said, “A long time ago a king gave a subject a precious gem to care for and watch. Each day the man guarded the jewel and fretted when the king would one day return to reclaim his property.

“The same is true for you, dear friend. You had a son who was rich in learning, steeped in lore and law. Now you have retuned the loan.”

Vayidom.

One commentary elevates Aaron for his silence. It was not just a silence in the face of the judgment of God, although that would be enough. Before an event we must take precautions to avoid mishap. After such an occurrence what can we do?
* ****************************
The son of the Gerer Rebbe died just before the sun set on a Friday afternoon, before Shabbat. No one wanted to tell the great leader of the loss. No one wanted to deliver the message on the sacred day until one follower, a devout and meek hasid offered his condolences to the rebbe. The rebbe listened and then said, “Shh. Nu? It is Shabbos.”

The day continued and until the sun set on Saturday the rebbe still sang and taught with great joy. When Havdalah came the rebbe ripped his clothes, sank to the floor and cried and mourned for the shiva. Silent until Shabbat had ended, the pain of the Gerer Rebbe seemed to now hold no bounds.

Could this be real? Did this actually happen?
Whether or not it did happen perhaps the rays of light that are expelled from the story tale teach a lesson about our life.

The Zohar says that whoever weeps at the fate of Nadav and Avihu when they read this story will not suffer the same fate. Perhaps the lesson of silence is about acceptance.

Tzav: Forgiveness and Return

2008-03-16T19:25:00.000-07:00

An anomaly: The fire on the mizb’ach, Tabernacle, was fed from heaven and earth at once. Commanded by Torah was to have three fires continually burning there. Each was fed by the dual sources. What is the point of tending an earthly fire when a heavenly fire is doing the same thing? Is that not redundant? Why not just have heavenly flames consume the sacrifice?

Compounding the problem, the kohane – the officiant at the miz’bach -- was also charged with the responsibility of stoking the flames. He had to add new wood to the pyre to keep it burning hot. This takes an already nonsensical issue and makes it even odder. Why was it necessary for the kohane to keep adding wood? They could spend more productive time elsewhere doing other things.

The ancient ones said that there are two moments in our lives that require God’s rapt attention. In fact, they go further by revealing that these two moments are more rigorous and taxing than the Splitting of the Sea. What are they? Connecting people to their livelihoods and to their spouses is a greater miracle than the part of the Sea!

Is it strange that in the process of obtaining a good job or finding a mate God rarely enters into the verbal picture? How many people thank HaShem that they found a good paying position? How often do we hear that a person praises God for finding their counterpart? The usual reaction to these life-changing situations is utter joy and self-congratulations. It is almost unheard to find a person praise God for such events.

For unanticipated events of life it is not unusual to hear the cry of “Oh my God!” On the other hand, for the blessings of life it is unusual to hear, “Thank God.” Human propensity is to take pride in our personal actions and heap the rest upon God.

The Torah recognizes that it is instinctual is to take credit for our accomplishments. Even if the Sea parts before our eyes we must have had something to do with it!

Is it really odd then that the kohane was charged with adding fuel to the burning fires of the mizb’ach? Is it strange that the kohane had the ongoing responsibility to stoke the flames despite the heavenly intervention?

While recognizing our human weakness Torah also seeks to gently point out to us the value of humility. The kohane brings fire to fire, a nearly useless exercise that teaches a profound lesson: All that we possess is a gift. The power that we exercise today is like fleeting vapor in the breadth of the universe.

Baruch HaShem for the newly sprouted buds on trees.
Baruch HaShem for the grass.
Baruch HaShem for our food.
Baruch HaShem for our light.
Baruch HaShem for companionship.
Baruch HaShem for our legacy.
Baruch HaShem for our job.
Baruch HaShem for our spouse.

As the siddur teaches us, “even our dominion over beasts is an illusion.”

*

So much of Vayikra, the previous parsha, and this week contain similar information. They are both full of the regulations of the sacrifices. At first blush it seems pretty repetitive. There is, however, one striking difference between the parshiot. Last week there was no mention of Aaron at all! How could this be? Is not Aaron integral to the whole sacrificial rites?

According to a midrash, Moshe was carefully combing through the holy Text when he noticed that his brother, Aaron, was not mentioned once in the entire portion. All that the parasga Vayikra stated was a mention of the “sons of Aaron.” Moshe turned to God and questioned Him.

“Can it be that You hate the well but not the water that flows from it?” Moshe was really asking the Lord how He could turn His Face from Aaron while embracing his sons.

Moshe rightly assumed that the absence of the name of Aaron from last week was intentional. After all, Aaron was involved in the creation of the Golden Calf. His participation - however reluctant - was still sinful. True, Aaron had repented. Yet only God knows the inner workings of the heart. Perhaps his teshuva was incomplete.

Moral? Rambam reveals the final stage of teshuva, a full repentance, is when a person changes their inner self. So complete is this teshuva the person has moved to a higher level of being so that the sin is now so repugnant it is unthinkable. Until this stage is reached repentance is incomplete. Was Aaron not yet there? Is that why his name was conspicuously absent?

Moshe suspected that his brother was not forgiven. “Can it be that You hate the well but not the water that flows from it?” he begged God to forgive.

“For your sake it is done,” the Holy One responded.

In the second pasuk of this parasha this week, HaShem says, “Command Aaron and his sons saying..." The forgiveness is complete.

Idea: A primary reason many of the mitzvot are reiterated this week is for the sake of Aaron. Last week the Israelite nation learned about the mizb’ach and their relationship to God. Now, the actors of the rites, Aaron and his progeny are told in great detail how to effect those sacrifices.

*

Imagine how it looked: The sin offering was given when a person did something wrong. The Jew then brought an animal to the mizb’ach as an act of contrition. They had seen in their heart they had done wrong. It was time to make amends.

In the same place at the altar another Jew would bring an olah, a simple gift to God. When their heart would open up and desire to bring an offering out of love they would come to the exact place by the mizb’ach as the one would had committed a sin.

As the two Jews would come to the same location at the mizb’ah to offer a gift or bring an expiation of their sin, no one could tell which one they brought to God. No one would know who was guilty and who was jubilant.

Moral? The respect we give to other people is paramount. We must avoid humiliating people at all cost.

Vayikra: The Sacrifice

2008-03-10T13:25:00.000-07:00

Text: "Speak to the Israelites. Tell them that when a man from one of you brings an animal for a sacrifice…."

Commentary: From one of you: This means that any person wishing to bring a sacrifice to the Holy One must first bring himself as a sacrifice. The act of bringing an animal to be offered to God is insufficient; it is not enough to accomplish meeting the desired outcome. Bringing an animal to the altar of God must be preceded by the person first coming before the Holy One with an open heart; one not tainted by wrong-mindedness. The mind and hands must act in tandem. The first sacrifice is the ego.
Bring to HaShem only your purest self.

Text: "And he shall press his hands on the head of the animal to be sacrificed: Only afterward will the sacrifice be acceptable as atonement."

Subtext: Any Jew could bring a sacrifice to the Lord in order to achieve personal healing and wholeness. Touching the animal the person would beg God, “I have sinned. I have rebelled and gone astray. These are my sins…” The supplicant then goes on to list the specific reasons for this act of contrition. The words must be deliberate and honest.

Commentary: Prayer of the heart can only take us so far. Torah tells us to take the ideas in our head and make them concrete by saying them aloud. In putting our deepest pains and joys into words we make them more real.
Have we lost the facility of communicating with God? Has prayer become rote? It can be recaptured by enacting what no other creature in the universe can do: expressing feelings, intangibles into the media of words is a gift of God. Aspirations, frustrations, dark anguish and dreams can all be placed on the altar of God. In words.

D’var Acher: The liturgy of Yom Kippur which attempts to heal all our shortcomings for an entire year is not enough. Without an accounting of the raw nature of the sins there can be no forgiveness.
Confession means candor.

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Four categories of sacrifices are listed in this parasha:

1. Olah- an olah is a male animal sacrifice. A person brings an olah because they are strongly moved to do something bad. That is to say, they have not acted upon this impulse yet but fell themselves tilting towards the forbidden.
A male animal is a specified for the olah because they need to be strong to resist and overcome the inner temptation.

Idea: When we contemplate evil in speech or deed a great well of strength must be marshaled to resist the urge. The first wall of defense against sin is critical for when this primary wall is breached it is far easier to sin a second and third time.

2. Hatat – For the realized sin a female animal is brought to be sacrificed.
Hatat is not just a sin; it is purposeful. The intent was to perform evil. That is why it is called a hatat, a willful sin offering.

Idea: Acknowledging that we have done wrong is no small step. Most people prefer to excuse their behavior. Statements like “they deserved it,” or “they it coming to them,” are common phrases in excusing our actions. It is much easier to blame than take responsibility.
A female animal is brought to gently bringing us back to a place where our sense of self is not threatened. When someone has sinned the Torah attempts to ease them toward teshuva, allowing them to rejoin society. That is why they bring a female sacrifice.

3. Asham- This korban, sacrifice, may be either male or female animal. An asham is an atonement for an inadvertent sin. Once a person realizes that they have performed an evil act, it is acknowledged by bringing the korban. An important reminder is that the sin was not premeditated. Asham sounds like the word “ashamed”, does it not? Is that a coincidence? In shame we bring our personal testimony for our faults.

4. Shlamim- Like the asham, this korban may be male or female. Unlike the other sacrifices, shlamim are not brought to mend a wrong but to acknowledge an inner state of peace. This sacrifice is a celebration of calm. Shlamim comes from the root shalom indicating 'whole' or 'peace'.
A korban shlamim is the gift of a grateful person. Such a person is so expansive in their desire to bring the entire universe to proximate their wholeness they rejoice with this korban.

Idea: We ask God to bless us with peace and tranquility. This is a downward movement. Coming from Above the blessing originates in heaven and wends its way to our realm far below. Yet the great mystic tradition believes that our hands can also generate the seedlings of wholeness and spread them outward. This is an upward movement. Starting from the earth we place into being the kernels of cosmic redemption. The shlamim sacrifice is that blossoming flower.

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Text: “This is the Torah of sacrifices….”

Question: What does this mean this is the Torah of sacrifices? Is not the whole Bible Torah?

Answer: Torah means “instruction”. Every time this specific word is used in indicates direction. Here, the “Torah of sacrifices” means these are the directions of how they are enacted.

Subtext: The purpose of the sacrifices is to come out of our personal exile and draw near to God. The Hebrew korban actually means to come close, not sacrifice. That is why the parasha delineates different kinds of sacrifices from the great to the meager. What matters is that the heart yearns for HaShem.

Commentary: Reb Simcha Bunem of Przysucha said, “It is all one; whether you do more or less as long as you direct your heart to heaven.”

Pekuday: Forgiveness and Zeal

2008-03-03T20:26:00.000-08:00

This is the day after.

The sun had set on the Day of Atonement. Like the almost palpable quiet after a tumultuous and crowded gathering of desperate clawing towards a single ray of salvation, it was over. It was not just a new day but a new beginning. Is that not the purpose of life? "Though your sins be as red as scarlet I will make then white as snow," said Isaiah. The eleventh of Tishray is the first day of life renewed.

The initial language of this new life describes the Ark. It is called the Mishkan Edut, the Ark of Testimony. To what did the Ark testify? Absolute forgiveness and the opportunity for a new start.

Torah teaches a profound lesson about forgiveness here: forgiveness is not contingent. It is absolute. God does not remind the people of their past behavior. He does not say they are forgiven yet act in such a way as to undermine that. We are taught that when we forgive it needs to be a complete forgiveness, not one when we still harbor the bitterness of that past.

This confession is found in the Mahzor for the High Holy Days:
I hereby forgive all who have hurt me, all who have done me wrong, who deliberately or by accident, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account. As I forgive and pardon fully those who have done me wrong, may those whom I have harmed forgive and pardon me, whether I acted deliberately or by accident, whether by word or deed. I am now ready to fulfill the commandment of "to love my neighbor as myself.

What is the point to saying these words if they do not speak the entire truth? If we are still bearing resentments? That is why the way of Judaism provides three steps to true forgiveness:

1. We say we forgive the person/deed. Then we proceed to act upon that forgiveness by praying for their well-being.

2. We remove the filaments of anger that still dance around the edge of our psyche.

3. We reestablish our relationship with them. That is why the Talmud speaks of anger as a donkey lying on its back. The donkey cannot right itself. It seems impossible to forgive when we do not allow ourselves to first get up. Baba Metsia 33

Maimonides offered this insight:
We should be slow to anger and easily appeased. And when our forgiveness is requested, we should grant it with a whole heart; not bearing grudges even for a grave injury. This is the way of the upright Jew.

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The stone tablets had been delivered to the Israelite nation. Moshe Rabbenu gathers the people to fully explain the import of the gift. This was not a time for any division. Moshe speaks deliberately to "all the community of Israel." No one of any age, gender or vocation was excluded.

In this vast gathering of the Israelite nation the people build the Mishkan.

What was the antidote to the Golden Calf? The Mishkan. What does the idolatrous cow have to do with the Ark? The earlier actions of the people betrayed that they needed a specific place where they could access God. It was not enough to have manna rain from heaven or wells appear from the desert floor. The people needed a space that was sacrosanct. That is why the word mishkan means dwelling. The mishkan became the dwelling place where the people could point and say, our God is here!

Further, the aspect of God that inhabited that sacred space was the Shechina.

D'var acher: Mishkan is related to mishkon, pledge. The Ark housed the gift of God to the people, the hewn stones of the Word of God. They were a pledge. If the people kept the commandments they would be deserving of the gift. If they did not, the pledge could be withdrawn.

When we read Torah we look for novelty, excitement, character failings and impossible growth. These are the things that make the holy Torah come alive in the imagination. Instead what we find here are detailed descriptions about planks, strips of wood. Rabbi Elie Munk notes this bland narrative along with the sonorous repetition of the minute details of the Mishkan. The long stretches of narrative are even more surprising because such passages are usually terse in Torah. Munk reminds us that where the Torah repeats an idea there is a nuance that it wants us to notice. Baba Kama 64b.

Imagine love. It is not hard to do. Imagine then what you would do to show that love, to display the full force of those inner emotions. What would be the limitations? Why not the same for the Holy One? Why not buy the best pair of tefilin? The grandest tallit? The most beautiful kiddush cup? Why not build an edifice to God that correlates to a supreme brimming love? Such was the Mishkan.

Perhaps then the lesson of the tedious narrative to to adopt the stance of Betzalel, the architect of the Tabernacle, whose enthusiasm was so intense it could be barely contained. Every plank, each fabric was carefully chosen, sorted and crafted to reflect the love of the artist. Would it not be the same for our shul, our sacred spaces? It is holy work and the work of the holy.

The Talmud goes so far as to equate the wellspring of love that arises from the study of the laws of the sacrifices to the building of the Mishkan and offering the sacrifices. Taanit 27b. In other words, just the simple joy of reconstructing in our minds how it appeared for the glory of God is equivalent to having built it.

Faith Soul

2008-02-25T12:15:00.000-08:00

The episode that we read in Exodus, chapter thirty-five, takes place the day after Yom Kippur.

The full tale actually opens up a short while before when Moshe ascended Mt Sinai to receive the Word of God. Leaving his family and people behind Moshe climbed upward to the gateway of heaven. When he returned forty days later, Moshe was crushed as he discovered his people had crafted a Golden Calf. Moshe was beyond dismayed. Having just met God and emerging from the meeting glowing with the vestiges of the Divine encounter, Moshe finds Bnai Israel had utterly betrayed his trust. His faith in the people was misplaced. The tablets were shattered.

Moshe then went up to meet God a second time. The day when he returned to the people was on the tenth of Tishray, Yom Kippur.

Is this not auspicious? Forgiveness of the Great Betrayal was granted, sealed and completed on the Day of Atonement. When HaShem issued the second set of Commandments it was the ultimate signal that He had embraced the people once again.

A recurring question we ask about the Israelites is, how could they have turned on God? After everything that God did for them how could this nation forget so easily? The plagues? The sea? The manna?

Another question asked less often is, how could HaKadosh Barukh Hu forgive them? It would not have been a long leap of imagination to suggest that the people were not worth saving. The experiment failed. Why not just give up on the Israelites? The brit, the holy covenant, had been abrogated by them. God kept His side of the bargain. We reneged. What stopped God from saying; "Since you have abandoned Me, I am abandoning you?"

The only plausible response to this question is that God wants us. Just like we want our children and parents to be strong and well; so too, God wants us to succeed and overcome our worst impulses. Just like we do not jettison our loved ones, God does not abanondon us.

There is an old rabbinic conundrum of what to say when called upon to officiate at the funeral of a no-goodnik. What is there to say? He was a lousy provider. He stole. He cheated. The only answer is, he was good to his mother!

In much the same way we look at God and see the same hope from Above. He wants us to do well. God cheers for us. He hopes for the best. Even in our most awful, dark moments, God sees our potenitial. That is why the Holy One embraces us even when we have turned our backs on Him.

Here, in our parsha, God shows us how to forgive, even when the crime seems unbearable...

A thought: God Himself visits Abraham as he is ailing. Why does the Holy One visit the sick? To teach us how we must behave. Our responsibility is to visit people in pain.

In the opening chapters of the Torah, God makes clothes for Adam and Havvah. The Sages were not at a loss to tell us why God becomes a provider of garments: He wants us to imitate Him. God shows us how to care for the disadvantaged. As the Holy One clothes the naked so should we care for our brothers and sisters.

Going back even further, HaKodosh Barukh Hu designs a universe in seven days. Does the All Powerful One really need that length of time to create the cosmos? Cannot God cast a universe in a millisecond? Why seven days? He makes a universe in the span of one week to show us how to use our time. If the Omnipotent One refrains from creating on the seventh day then it follows that we need to imitate Him.

What is the first mitzva in the new era when the Torah was given? The Israelites are directed to build a Mishkan, a Tabernacle. Before any further instructions are given comes a warning: The first utterance before any construction begins is to not work on Shabbat.

The Holy One knew that the people would now be eager to please their Maker. After all, they had just been forgiven for the crime of the Golden Calf. Now was the time for contrition and proving that they were a faithful lot. They wanted to prove that they were worthy of God's forgiveness. Understanding their few-found zeal, God articulated that under no circumstances were the people allowed to do any kind of word on the Mishkan during Shabbat.

In the immediate next verses the work of the Mishkan is carefully delineated. The Rabbis throughout the ages looked at these passages and determined that if we are not allowed to do them on Shabbat for the sake of God, then we are most certainly not allowed to do them for any other reason on the holy Shabbat. These thirty-nine articulated labors then became the identifying features for prohibited work on Shabbat.

Two questions need to be asked:

1. Are there any features link the 39 labors together?
2. And what do these labors have to do to with the creation by God of the universe, i.e. refraining from creating on the seventh day?

1. The thirty-nine actions have in common with each other the idea that they build a comfortable, useful universe to suit our needs. All these items -- cooking, baking, making fire, sewing, etc.-- provide us with a more predictable and ordered world. Each labor changes the natural universe to make us more comfortable. In our time, the comparison might be mowing the lawn, working in the yard, using engines to change the environment.

Idea: nowhere in the Torah does it state that we must not "work" on Shabbat; that is, "work" in the traditional mode of doing what we get paid for. The halakha is far more complex.

2. What do these labors have to do with Shabbat?
Listen to the description of Man in Genesis. Of man it states that when God breathed into this first being His animating breath of life Adam became a living nefesh. Genesis 2:7

The nefesh becomes worn and depleted as we exercise our never-ending role of "dominator of the world."

That is why as the Torah is given another gift is offered by the Holy One. "...and on the seventh day he rested, "vayinfash." Vayinfash literally means "and he was soul-ed." S'forno reveals that God, at the same time that He presented us with His Torah, also presented us with an additional dimension to life, Shabbat. When we act within the universe, not as conquerors or overlords, we imbibe an extra soul. Or, at the very least, we become whole with our original self, our nefesh.

On Shabbat we are presented with the godly gift of becoming re-souled.

Self Definition

2008-02-15T09:12:00.000-08:00

Self Definition

Order is important. When reading the Torah, chronology informs us of how people and a peoplehood develop. We watch as the life of Moses, for example, is first described in the opening chapters of Exodus. We then follow him as he grows, matures and changes through adulthood. Without this order we would have a faulty, sporadic view of how this redeemer/lawgiver came to be.

That is why this Torah parsha is so troubling. It is out of order. The Sages, of blessed memory, universally agreed that the narrative of the census belongs elsewhere in the Torah. They tell us that all the commandments enumerated here were given before the episode of the Golden Calf…yet they are placed after the event.

The Sages were unmoved by the conundrum. They figuratively shrugged their collective shoulders and said, “There is no chronology in the Torah.”

For those who sit and learn in the light of the Torah, carefully scrutinizing the Text for its many meanings, this is a critical issue that demands a response.

The scientific study of Bible yields its answer: the lack of order in the Writ shows bad editorial-ship. The Text, they tell, is actually a series of disparate fragments that were patched together, rather poorly as proven here, in a single volume. Each fragment may tell the story of the same people but each has a dissimilar viewpoint. Sometimes, the authors even lived in different centuries!

To the scientifically oriented the lack of chronology is not troubling. It simply reveals the human artistry and foibles of the biblical authors.

For the faithful, the lack of order is also not disturbing. They look at the world and stand in silent awe of a vast universe that holds secrets that can never be plumbed. The cosmos is too vast. As a tiny pebble on an endless stretch of beach, the believer looks out at the expanse and sees a mystery that will always lie beyond his reach.

For such a religious being the lack of chronology is a spur to study the hoary texts and scour them for clues to its meaning with every available piece of information from the present. And if they still cannot understand why the Bible is out of order? They accept that this is part of the plan of God.

Ultimately, they believe, He will unfurl the mystery when the time is right.

Every person is predisposed to see the world as befits their personality and outlook. Some are optimistic, others are pessimistic. Some are field with bleak despair, others brim with hope. We all search for what our heart yearns to find. Invaiably, we find what we want to find.

We choose the path which best suits our soul. For every student of Torah this question must be confronted: Which voice is stronger inside us? The empiricist who looks for scientific data? Or the person of awe who is in search of God? The answer to these questions is a clue to who we are truly are. More often than otherwaise, we see what we are predisposed to see. We find what we want to find.

Which are you? God centric? Scientifically focused?

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Exodus 30:16 One-half shekel is given by every Israelite as atonement for their soul.

No one was all owed to give more or less than the stated amount. In the final analysis, while some people will accumulate great wealth and others will not raise themselves out of poverty, the value of a soul is the same.

Atonement: the silver that the brothers of Joseph received for selling him was divided between them. Each received one-half shekel as their prize.
For the sin of selling Joseph the Israelites carried the burden of that guilt until now. The half-shekel atoned for Joseph.

D'var Acher: (another approach): Some say the half shekel was a means of taking a census. In collecting one coin from each person, the elders would soon see how many Israelites would becomes the seeds of the new nation.

D'var Acher: after the rebellion of the Golden Calf many of the instigators and participants died. A census was needed to count the survivors.

Dvar Acher: when people are counted it brings on the ayin hara, the evil eye. For example, when King David took a count of his people the nation was afflicted with a terrible plague. 2 Samuel 24

In our time, as the Jews of the Shoah were numbered ad counted the fires of Gehenna were stoked. That is why one coin was given instead of counting heads.

D'var Acher: only men participated in the actual making of the Golden Calf. A man without a woman is termed a peleg gufa, half a person. For the crime of the men making the Calf, one-half shekel was demanded.

D'var Acher: "God does not reject the broken-hearted." Psalms 51:19

A shekel is a reminder that we are all tormented, fragile beings. Broken as we are – like the half-shekel – God desires us.

D'var Acher: Why was the atonement of the shekel required? We all need forgiveness.

Defining Our Sacred Space

2008-02-12T07:51:00.000-08:00

The parsha of Tetsaveh devotes great attention to the details of the vestments of the Kohen Gadol.

Why are these details so important? Ramban notes and stresses that kings also wore clothing that was not dissimilar to the Kohen Gadol. The Ramban then remarks that dress gives definition to our stature in the eyes of other people. In this instance, Bnai Yisrael became aware of the grandeur of its leader Aaron, through his specified and ornate clothing.

A commentator, Benno Jakob, believes that clothing connotes something far more powerful than dignity. Remember that the Holy One, blessed be He, personally made clothes for primordial man in the Garden. This act separated the man and woman from the beasts of the world. While the animals wore only their natural fur, shell or skin humanity was now cloaked in vestments that were foreign to their bodies. The clothes Adam and Havvah wore differentiated them from beasts. Of all the things that God could have given humanity – food, shelter, gifts of all sorts - He chose to make for them clothes.

What Benno Jakob is telling us is that not only do clothes change the way we are seen they also have an impact on how we view ourselves. They separate us from animals, lower life. Yet, it is not only clothes alone that separate us from the beasts of the earth because we could wear ornaments that would only magnify the worst aspects of animal instinct. Clothes can also have the ability to separate us from our worst, most base animal instincts. For this reason, Judaism places great emphasis on dress, how we present ourselves.

Modesty of dress is one avenue of connection to the world and to the Divine. Modesty means that we respect borders and privacy. The way that we dress, for one example, is about limiting others from accessing our privacy. It is the outward symbol of our desire to connect with other people positively and then as a result connect with the Divine One. That is why the prophet Micah urges us, "to walk with modesty before God." 6:8

Moshe personally clothed his sibling, Aaron. It was his task to appoint and dress the first Kohen. Moshe installed Aaron as the Kohen Gadol. When people saw Aaron wearing his Kohen garb they would accept him for his powerful office and high status. At the same time, Aaron would also feel special because the clothing would remind him that he was different.

Clothes are distinctive reminders of our being. A tale of Nachum of Chernobyl tells of when he once lost sensation in his legs on a Shabbat. He looked down and discovered he was still wearing his weekday trousers. The soul of the tzaddik was sensitive to Shabbat and the great division between the mundane and the kodesh. His subconscious was mindful of the holiness that his Shabbat clothes provided.

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This is the only Torah parsha -- outside of Genesis -- where the name of Moshe Rabbeinu goes unmentioned. After the sin of the Golden Calf Moshe begged the Holy One to not destroy the Jews for their unconscionable sin. He prayed to the Holy One to pardon his people. Moshe was so insistent that he said, … “if not, erase me from Your book." Exodus 32:32.

The Holy One did relent. He heard and accepted the plea from His faithful servant. Yet, the power of this leader was so great that while God forgave Israel the words of Moses remained. No word of a tzaddik is lost. Each utterance is of consequence. That is why the name of Moshe Rabbeinu does not appear in this Torah parsha.

Proverbs goes so far as to state that, "Death and life are in the power of the tongue." Through the example of Moshe we learn that when we speak every word is counted, each sentence has great import. How many times have you received an e-mail where you read and re-read the message looking for underlying clues of malicious intent? Even while we know there may have been no ill will we scour each word and wring it for inner meaning. Others have done the same to our letters. Such things can destroy relationships forever.

The same is true of words spoken. Sometimes they are remembered, dissected and found to contain meanings that we did not intend. We must be very careful before we write or speak.Torah believes that words spoken are not only important between people but that the Holy One also listens to each word and remembers.

On the other side, rich rewards sate very meeting where Truth is spoken. Hananya ben Teradyon taught: “When two people sit and words of Torah pass between them, the Divine Presence rests between them.” Avot 3.3 Godliness lies in the message.

Implicit in the Torah is the importance of every spoken word. In the tale of Noah God states, “Go into the tevah [the ark] with your household.” (Gen 7:1) Tevah is usually translated as “ark.” However tevah also means “word.” That is why the hidden meaning of the text regarding Noah is that we need to be vigilant about every word that we utter. Before we even open our mouth we ought to think about what we want to say and how it could be interpreted. Our commitment to travel into every “word” is of paramount importance.

There are words that are powerful builders of truth and there are words of waste and terrible destruction. It is a scared task to speak. In fact many traditional commentaries on Genesis explicate the hidden meaning of “man was created in the image of God.” They reveal that being cast in the image of the Holy One means being given the gift of speaking. Each word of the Torah is imbued with depth and meaning. So too is each word spoken by us.

Any word possesses the inherent ability to create or destroy. Our task is to use our God-given gift well. At all costs it must not be abused. The Kotzker Rebbe once said, “It is not enough to pass through the Talmud, the Talmud must pass through us.” Every word is sacred.

Mishkan, Terumah and Higher

2008-02-05T10:46:00.000-08:00

On God.
These words are sung in the Shabbat and holy days during Musaf: Holy, holy, holy, the universe is filled with His radiance.

There is not quadrant or even an infinitesimal speck in the most remote regions of the cosmos that does not contain the essence of the Almighty. The universe is filled with Him.

In Terumah, there is an elaborate description on creating and maintaining a “Place” or Mishkan where the presence of the Holy One can be found. In fact the parsaha is devoted to sorting out the specific details of how to construct this dwelling place for God. Furthermore, we label the most proximate place of God as the Shechina. Shechina is the “Place “ where the Holy One, blessed be He, can be most strongly felt. Both words — the Shechina and Mishkan – have the same Hebrew root. They indicate a location where God is found.

Question: Did we not just say that there is no place in the universe where Divine sparks cannot be found? Why then build a Mishkan for God? Why specify a word indicting the presence of God?

The decision to have a Mishkan, or dwelling place on earth, dedicated to God was a reaction against the Golden Calf in the wilderness. Because the Jewish people acted on impulse to have an image of God, something they could point to as a physical presence of the Almighty, God responded by giving the specific dimensions of a Mishkan for the Shechina on earth thus satisfying this human need.

The Shechina is not limited to a space. It is only the human awareness of the Presence of the Divine One.

In Psalm 26 David asks, "Who will stand in the place Holiness?"
Note that the question is not, Who will ascend to the place of God? but, who will stand there? In other words, only if our eyes are truly open and yearning for God will find ourselves in a place of holiness. When we search for God every act will be elevated to the plane of holiness. We become souls aflame.

Midrash: A king had a daughter who fell in love and married a man from a distant town. The king, happy at the wedding, made a single request of his daughter. “I love you and will miss you. There is a part of me that wishes I could stop you from moving away but I know you must follow your heart, your love. Please set aside a room for me at your new home so that I may come to visit with you.”
This is the Mishkan.

On people. V-asu, "and they will make," is in the plural form. Every Jew was responsible to contribute toward the building of the Mishkan. The Mishkan was destined to be a structure that every member of B’nai Israel built and owned.

Further on, there is an opportunity to give more for the Mishkan. This time, unlike the last, is optional. The Torah states, "from every person whose heart moves him you shall take My portion.” (25:2)

Idea: Our self image is chiseled from the actions of our hands. We find self-definition by the things we do. When we act in harmony with God; when we choose the path of mitzvot; when we go beyond the boundaries of tzedaka and reach instead for gemilut hasadim,* acts of righteousness, we form an positive self image that makes us happy.

Working in synchronicity with God brings joy. Suggested by the Torah is that when we give our self toward a higher purpose our life becomes elevated.

That is why the Torah also says Vayikhu Lee Teruma, "Take for Me teruma." Rabbi Moshe Feinstein zl, explained that when we do acts of kindness our dark side, or Yetzer Hara, works against us. The building of the Mishkan taught that when we behave with generosity we grow in moral stature. That is why Feinstein interpreted this pasuk as, You will take as you will give. When we give we receive something far greater…..

As recorded in the Talmud, Baba Batra 11a, King Munbaz said, "My fathers stored their wealth below; I have stored mine above." King Munbaz knew that his life and spiritual side had so much more value when he acted out of goodness and with a full heart. His investment was not in his treasury but with God.

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* Tzedaka is our responsibility, our obligation. Gemilut Hasadim is a way of approaching life. Gemilut Hasadim means acting kindly, stretching beyond the boundaries of what is expected by doing good things.

Mishpatim: It's a Family Matter

2008-01-28T14:57:00.000-08:00

The world only stands because of three key elements: Law, Truth and Peace. Pirkay Avot 1:18

Law is the consistent and just application of rules to insure life in society. Cutting across all economic and blood lines, Torah’s concern encompasses and embraces all. Mishpatim contains the elements necessary for governance. It is not enough to “feel” that we are doing the right thing because we might be wrong. After all, is it not clear that our first order of business is to protect ourselves? With self-interest at the heart of our actions we cannot be trusted to care for others with the same standard that we care for ourselves. Torah recognizes that the broad strokes of Law are central to existence.

"Pray for the government," warns Rabbi Hanina. "If it were not for the fear of such a hierarchy and order man would consume one another." Pirkay Avot 3:2
Rabbi Hanina made this statement in the midst of the oppressive Roman occupancy. Imagine Hanina thought they would be so much worse without the Romans! What does this say about people left to their own devices?

If we rely upon people to do the right thing without consequences or binding law evil will ascend with dizzying swiftness. Not long after our creation, the Holy, blessed be He, declares in frustration, The world is filled with violence because of them. Genesis 6:13

In fact, if the book of Genesis serves no other purpose, it points to the propensity of humans to assault other people for their own benefit. Starting in the most perfect environment of Eden to the lush valleys of the Nile man proves his predisposition towards evil with ruthless consistency. No other creation has risen to such heights of cruelty as mankind.

Truth is also critical for any just society. Yet the word is not simply a convenient expression which no one could disagree with. For Torah, Truth is the unimpeachable testimony of witnesses. That is why page after page of Talmud is devoted to ascertaining the veracity of witnesses. They are drilled and questioned to determine their testimony. Without that truth the scales of justice cannot be balanced. Any court decision not only has a permanent effect on the litigants but casts a ripple that runs through the fabric of the whole society.

Peace is the goal of all the enactments of Mishpatim.

God loves those who seek justice. Psalms 99:4
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Thought: If death did not exist would we ever put our life in order? If we lived forever would we indefinitely postpone teshuvah? Was the curse of Eden – the invitation to the Angel of Death to meet humanity- a blessing or curse?
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Honor your father and mother. From Ten Commandments, Exodus 20:12

How? What does this mitzvah mean?

1. Whoever hits his father or mother shall die. Exodus 21:15

Is the death penalty really mandated for abuse of parents?
Thought: A society that tolerates evil is an evil society.

Halacha: Only a child that has reached the age of majority, post-Bar/Bat Mitzvah, is liable to the death penalty for assaulting their parent.
Should a small child be held liable for their thoughtless, callous actions?

Thought: Could a society endure if children not extend honor or deference to their parents? Could this Law be directed at the basic underpinning of a society that would collapse without it? Is this the most basic of all laws?

Question: The mitzvah to honor parents is opposite the mitzvah to acknowledge the presence of God in the universe. Is there a connection between those mitzvot?

Halacha: The Sages indicated that a doctor many not operate on his father/mother lest he make an error and hurt them.

Halacha: The Law to not strike or hurt a parent extends to a convert. Why? Does not a convert accept as their parent Avraham and Sarah? Why then would this mitzvah extend to people who have converted from another religion to Judaism?
What would it mean if this halacha did not extend to them? What does it say about the need to live a just society that this halacha does devolve upon them?

2. Whoever curses his father or mother shall be put to death. Exodus 21:17

Halacha: This standard of behavior applies even if the parent is dead.
Question: What difference does it make if they are dead? They are no longer in the realm of the physical to be harmed by such words?
Even more, what if they abused her when she was young? No that the abusing parents are dead why not curse them?
Thought: Cursing even an abusive parent must be an affront to God.*

Halacha: Of the two offenses, hitting or cursing a parent, cursing is considered the worse crime.
Question: Why? Is not striking a parent more ruthless and shameful than cursing? Yes, agree the Sages. The difference between the two crimes is that cursing may come much easier than striking. In the midst of a quarrel it is easy to lose your temper and utter something regrettable while hitting is less likely. That is precisely why Torah is so unforgiving of curses: Respect begins on a thoughtful and visceral level. Another reason is that a physical wound heals while a scar to the soul will never go away.

3. Cursed is the one who dishonors his father or mother. Deuteronomy 27:16

Question: How does this mitzvah differ from the two enumerated above?
Anything which brings the parent shame from laughing at them to verbally assaulting them falls into this mitzvah of dishonor.

* This law does not mean that a child must remain in abusive situation.

Yitro, the Man

2008-01-19T16:15:00.000-08:00

The parasha of Yitro ranks as the most powerful section of all theTorah readings. Containing the essential narrative of Judaism that tells the tale of the Revelation to the masses assembled at Sinai, Yitro spills out a message that would forever change the course of the universe.
Yet, an anomaly lurches out at the reader: why do we begin with such a forgettable man, Yitro, father-in-law of Moshe, and end with a cosmic event? Two more nagging questions gnaw at the mind. Why is this pivotal section of the Torah called by the name of a pagan? What lies at the crux of the conversion of Yitro to Judaism?

And Yitro heard... and Yitro came... Exodus 18:1 is how the parasha begins. What did Yitro hear that compelled him to join with the Israelites? What was the catalyst that caused Yitro to abandon his past? What did he hear?

In the Talmud we find an answer; actually a series of answers. The greatest Sages of Talmudic fame respond to the question of what moved Yitro. The first, Rabbi Joshua, offers, "Yitro heard of the war with Amalek..." Rumor spread quickly about the vast armies of Amalek that wickedly assaulted the women and children of the newly liberated slaves. Amalek threw his troops at the helpless, the defenseless. God, however, intervened. The enemy was obliterated. It was this unbelievable turn of events that compelled Yitro to join the Jewish nation, tells Rabbi Joshua.

Another Sage, Rabbi Eliezer HaModa'i, weighed in. Rabbi Eliezer told that Yitro understood the gravity of what was happening at the mountain in the Sinai wilderness. As his heart was open to the chasm opening up in theuniverse that would deliver the Torah, Yitro gaped in awe. He then ran to the people chosen to receive such a gift.

Rabbi Elazar, the third Sage, commented that once Yitro heard the tale of the fleeing nation with Egyptian forces ready to pounce and murder every one of them -- and then how the Sea opened up before them -- he cast his lot with theIsraelites. Any God that so fought for His people must be the most powerful. Zevachim 116a

Which one of the Talmudic authorities was correct? Any of them? All of them?
All that we know is that Yitro heard something so powerful that he cut his moorings to his past and joined the newly-spawned nation.

To our second question: Why is this pivotal section of the Torah called bythe name of a pagan, Yitro? The mystic tradition of the Zohar informs us that the Revelation at Sinai could not happen until Yitro had joined the Jewish people. God would not deliver His Torah until the time was right. That means the Holy One waited for Yitro.

Why? What does the conversion of this single man have to do with the destiny of the Jewish people? The holy Zohar elaborates further to tell that the Torah could not be given to Israel until Yitro, the great and supreme priest of the pagan world, had professed his faith in the Holy One, saying, "Now I know that God is greaterthan all the gods."

The Mechilta, Midrash, accentuates that Yitro was not just an ordinary pagan but a pagan priest. In his search for the ultimate truth Yitro scoured his universe to separate what was imagined from what was real. That is why Yitro made himself very familiar with all the practices of the ancient times. He turned his back on each one until the day that he witnessed the power and absolute truth of the Holy One, the God of Israel. Perhaps then the lesson of Yitro is to offset the experience of the new Israelite nation. Unlike the redeemed slaves, Yitro was not obeisant to a God who had personally delivered him. He was not part of the Exodus. He did not stand at Sinai and he did not join in song at the deft parting of the Sea. Yitro made a choice based on his heart and mind..

Was this why God waited? The Lord wants the hearts of those who seek truth; not just those scourged by the whip. Was this message intended for us? Another possibility: A mitzvah from the Torah is to love a stranger who has joined the Jewish people: "And you shall love the ger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt" Deut. 10:19

Idea: Kabbalists insist that the hidden world is larger than the revealed world. There is so much to be ferreted out from the earth of this universe that the genuine seekers of God are continually vigilant for signs of Divine Radiance tucked away in every obscure place. Could it be that only the gifted ones are able to see what is hidden? Was Yitro one of these visionaries?

Further, God embedded some Jewish souls in gentile bodies. They are hidden even from themselves. Their task is to find soul-self and become redeemed. Once a soul has embraced its destiny, sparks of holiness return back to the Ultimate Maker. That is why we call a convert, a ger tzedek. They are proselytes of righteousness, returning to their home.
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Idea: Why did Yitro come having heard all those tales about God protecting the Jewish nation and not people more closely related to the Israelites? Where were the children of Ishmael? What about Esau? Why did not they flock to rejoin their kin? Proverbs 27:10, states, "Better a close neighbor than a distant brother." "A close neighbor"--this is Yitro; "a distant brother" is Esau. Midrash Rabbah

Is it odd that a stranger saw the truth of God's actions? While blood relations shrank away? Moral? Love your family even though they may reject you.
Another possible moral: Be open to miracles. Out of fear or rigidity it is easy to dismiss the miraculousness of life and gifts of God.

The Talmud expresses a fascinating insight into the way people think and behave. The passage talks about a city called Matan Machsaya, a city in Babylonia. For two months each year a miracle occurred there. For these months each year Jewish businessmen would gather and study in the Yeshiva. During that time, a cloud of fire would hover over the Yeshiva. This pillar of fire was a Divine phenomenon was a revealed miracle. Yet, the townspeople went about their daily business and saw the fire as an ordinary, mundane event. A person can face a miracle and remain unmoved and uninspired.
Berachot end of 2nd Perek
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Idea:
"I your father-in-law, Yitro am on my way. Your wife and two sons are also coming." Exodus 18:6. Rashi tells us that Yitro sent this message to Moshe:
"If you do not want to come to greet me, come for the sake of your wife. If you do not want to come to greet your wife, come for the sake of her two sons."
Yitro's message to Moshe was clear. "You might have reached the height of spirituality, you must still be a man, a husband, a father, a friend. Spirituality cannot be achieved without first being a mensch.

A tale: A guest of the Hafetz Hayim noticed the master making the bed. The man objected and tried to went to take over from the Hafezt Hayim. "Rabbi, you should not be doing this. Let me do it!" The Hafetz Hayim said, "Will you put on tefillin for me too? I am doing the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, welcoming guests, which, like other mitzvot, I must do myself."

The Hafetz Hayim was honored to make the bed for anyone staying at his house. Moshe Rabbeinu too needed to attend to the needs of his family.

Yitro observes Moshe in action as he "sits all day to judge the people; and the people stand upon him from morning until evening." Exodus 18:13 Yitro is surprised at how Moshe works. Yitro questions, "What is this thing that you are doing? Why do you sit alone as the people come to you all day?" Exodus 18:14 Rashi observes that Moshe is "sitting like a king" as the entire population crowds him, flooding him with cases and questions.

Sometimes you just need to make the bed. Get joy from doing the dishes. We are all equal. Moral? When looking at others see them as you see you.

Leaving

2008-01-13T16:02:00.000-08:00

And it was when Pharaoh sent the people that God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines despite the fact that is was near because the Almighty said the people will reconsider when they see war looming and will return to Egypt. Exodus 13:17

After all the Jewish people suffered in Egypt they would really contemplate returning to bondage? After the onslaught of plagues that rained down on Egypt they would now give up? The miracle at the Sea was so easily over and done? Had they so quickly forgotten the oppression? The genocide of the first born males? The agonizing lashes? How could such pain be forgotten?

Every human is comprised of two disparate parts; body and soul. The body is the “shoe” or cloak of life. It is like the house which holds all our worldly possessions. The soul is the gift of the Lord; it is the held prize of the body. The two segments are likened to the olam, world, which is clear and revealed and the elem, the secreted world that is hidden from the eye. Both exist.

The polar extremities of the competing desires between body and soul can be disconcerting to the point where one begins to exert much control over the other. That is why we fall. It is the soul that usually suffers.

We cannot exist in the ethereal realm of God to the total exclusion of the physical self. We need physical nourishment and care. Yet, this is not the problem that most people go through. Where we stumble is when we ignore the smaller, quieter, inner voice. At a moment we can feel elevated, exuberant. In another instant we can forget the sublime joy of the soul. At the time of liberation from Egypt God feared that the newly liberated slaves would succumb to the moment and forget all the wondrous deeds that had only just happened.

Do not despair. Despair is the path away from the Almighty. It steers us away from hope. It drives a wedge between the body and soul that will cause us to lose sight of our true self. That is what the Talmud means when it states that “All that the Holy One, blessed be He, created in His universe, He crafted male and female.” 1 We are different parts, male and female, body and soul, Godly and earthly, that needs to allow both segments of self to work in unison to produce a whole person.

1 Baba Baatra 74b

- - - - - - - - - - -
I have heard the murmurings of the Children of Israel. Speak to them, saying: In the evening you will eat meat and in the morning you shall be sated with bread. You shall know that I am God. Exodus 16:11

There are four teshukot (or overwhelming desires) in the world:
The first desire is that of Eve for Adam, the second desire is that of the Evil Inclination of Cain, the desire for rain and finally the desire of the Master of the Universe for humanity. 1

This first teshuka is a physical lusting. It is a hunger that floods the conscious mind. Pushing away other thoughts it distracts and deceives. The great deception of this desire is the misguided belief that someone will redeem us. If someone can be brought to love us enough they will save us. This desire strips us of our power and role in our redemption. It is also self-deception.

The second desire is that of the Evil Inclination of Cain.
Cain’s sacrifice was inferior to his brother’s, Abel. Knowing full well that that his brother had succeeded in opening his heart to God while he remained closed and selfish, Cain listened to his Evil Inclination. He bought the lie that if he punished his brother his acts would become more righteous. This is the same lie that causes us to shame or degrade other people. Hurting others by actions or words devalues our self.

The desire for rain is the ill-fated wish for someone or something to rescue us out of our malaise. "If only I won the lottery"…"if only I had a good mate"…"if only I had different parents…." This kind of wishful thinking removes us far from what we could become. God wants a partner not a dependent.

And finally the desire of the Master of the Universe for humanity. This is a yearning that God holds and that we can share. God wears tefilin that bears the prayer, “Israel, who is like you?” From this we understand that God prays for us. We must join God in the prayer for the wellbeing of humanity. It is a belief in what can be. It is a belief in what is possible. It is trust in our ability to grow and mature.

1 Bereshit Rabba 20:7

- - - - - - - - - - -
Leaving Egypt was no simple task. They were leaving the home they had known their entire life. It was also the place where their families had existed for hundreds of years. Now they were being cast out. Everything familiar was to be left behind. Understandably, the people were frightened. Time and again they queried their leader, How will we survive?

To those who said, "Let us cast ourselves into the sea," Moses responded, "Fear not; stand by and see the salvation of God." To those people who said, "Let us return to Egypt," Moses answered, "You have seen Egypt this day; you shall not see them again forever." To those who said, "Let us wage war against them," Moses said, "God shall fight for you." And to those who said, "Let us cry out to God," he said: "And you shall be silent." Mechilta

To those who said, "Let us cast ourselves into the sea," Moses responded, "Fear not; stand by and see the salvation of God."
It is easy to give up. Saying that life is too painful is simple. Losing one’s employment, becoming addicted, losing a love, death and rejection are all components of a lifetime that repeat. We experience these events many times over. It would be too easy to surrender to those opposing forces and give up.
Moses tells us: You are not alone. There is an Ultimate Master of All that cares intensely about you. Do not give up. God will not turn His Face from you.

To those people who said, "Let us return to Egypt," Moses answered, "You have seen Egypt this day; you shall not see them again forever."
Even pain has a purpose. Hidden deep in the folds of our anguish are seeds of opportunity. There is no pain that does not open up a possibility that would otherwise remain closed. That is not to say that we should welcome pain. Yet, when it comes to our door do not move backward toward the restrictive Egypt that once held us in its vise-like grip. Since we cannot change what has already happened use the experience as a tool for growth.

To those who said, "Let us wage war against them," Moses said, "God shall fight for you."
Do not lose sight of your morals. At all costs, do not lose your integrity. It is what makes you a holy vessel. Remain true to yourself; remain true to your God. Perhaps the greatest victory of evil would be to claim their victim as their own.

And to those who said, "Let us cry out to God," he said: "And you shall be silent."
As Psalms indicates, Leckha dumyah tehilla “to You silence is praise.” 1 Sometimes a wellspring of strength emerges from the darkness in the form of quiet. In the maelstrom of pain, when the tears have subsided, it is time to sit silently with God. From that place may issue the strongest prayer ever uttered.

1 Psalms 65:2

Light and Dark

2008-01-07T14:13:00.000-08:00

God said to Moshe. He said, "Stretch out your hand towards Heaven so that darkness will come over Egypt, a darkness which can be felt, vayamaish." (Exodus 10:21)

What is darkness? Most people would admit that it is nothing more than the absence of light. No light? we wonder. It must be dark. After all, step into a dark room switch on the light and the darkness disappears. Light dispels the other. Yet the Torah here speaks of a darkness that can be felt. What does it mean?
In Bereshit, the language is very clear that darkness existed before light ("Darkness on the face of the deep"). If it is true that darkness only exists at the expense of light how could there be darkness in the void of the great Beginning? Light would not be created until later. Perhaps this pre-creation darkness means more than just before the sun came into being. The Vilna Gaon reveals:
"There are some who say that light is an independent creation, and that darkness is an independent creation.... Darkness is a creation that is pushed away by light. That is the way The Holy One, Blessed is He, made nature. Here -in this plague- God changed the course of nature. When the Torah says, 'a darkness which can be felt,' it means that the darkness 'pushed' away the light..." (Kol Eliyahu, Bo 53)

The darkness of which the famed Vilna Gaon speaks is "a darkness that can move light." In our thinking it only works the other way; light chases the darkness. This Egyptian night was a palpable darkness that was not displaced by light. The darkness had its own power and could thrust aside light.
This was the same darkness that engulfed the nascent universe before God cast into being an opposing force.
There is a certain kind of darkness that moves itself like a thick curtain blocking out light. It is a spiritual vacuum where hope and vision are obscured. It is as Martin Buber taught, “an eclipse of God.” When Pharaoh was utterly intent on genocide, banishing goodness and destroying life the darkness of the primordial universe returned. It shut out the possibility of balance, teshuvah and redemption. Was it not so in the Holocaust? Is it not so in Darfur?

Exodus Rabbah 15.1:
"And the Lord said to Moses… This month shall be for you the beginning of all months" [Exodus 12:1-2]. It is written there: "The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes" [Song of Songs 2:8]

Why would the midrash take this phrase from our parasha and join it with this passage from the Song of Songs? They seem to have no historic or thematic connection with each other.
Come closer.
The Festival Of Freedom, Passover, is truly the New Year for our people. It is the point of our liberation. It is the moment of conception a group of people that had passed through a crucible transforming them into God’s children, a covenanted nation. On that day the Jewish people were born. That is why the imagination of the Midrash leapfrogs to paeans of love. God is coming to embrace the Jewish people.
As is said, "My beloved answered and said to me" (Song of Songs, v. 10). What are you doing here in this place of unclean people, "whose flesh is the flesh of donkeys, and whose flow is the flow of horses" (Ezek 23:20). "Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come away."
Bursting out of this passage is the poetry of a courtship that would span millennia. This is the first dance that would stretch though great epochs of time.

'Bo' is the first utterance of the Torah reading. “Go to Pharaoh” would be better translated as “Come to Pharaoh.” The word bo is not usual in this context. We would have expected 'lech,' perhaps but not 'bo.'
Bo is comprised of two Hebrew letters, bet and aleph, the first letters of the alpha-bet. However, they are inverted. Not in their proper sequence the word bo stands out as an inversion of the way life ought to be. Reason was suspended. Evil became the norm in Egypt. Bo also represented God’s reticent decision to suspend nature and bring devastation to the victimizers, which would ultimately bring about freedom for the enslaved.

On Time:
The Lubavitch Rebbe was once seen writing some words down on paper by one of his students. The master then took out an eraser and erased what he had just written.
The student queried the rebbe, “Why did you wipe away what you had just written?”
He replied, “At the time I wrote it the words spoke great truth. That moment had passed. New words must now come to me. I wait for them.”

Arguably, the greatest moment of our people’s past is described in this parasha. Forged in the fire of slavery the Jewish nation emerges from the ashes of Egypt. Yet, it is so hard to recapture that grandeur of liberation. Despite the many references to "remember the Exodus from Egypt,” it is far easier to simply remember the story than feel the sensation of witnessing the actions of God and feeling the miraculousness of the event. It is even difficult to feel the power of the Exodus as we celebrate at the Seder table.
That is the meaning of the rebbe’s words. Time will pass. As it does, our task is to renew our relationship with the Almighty and find new light in the present.

Tell me Your name.

2008-01-01T20:59:00.000-08:00

What is in a name?

God spoke to Moses. He said, I am YHVH.

What does this name mean? Why does the Holy One only now introduce Himself with this name?

Rashi interprets the Name as meaning: I am faithful. I will reward every person who walks before Me. When they do well they will find reward.

That is the meaning of the newly revealed name to Moshe. That concept of faith also extends to exact punishment from those who deserve it. Reward and punishment are intimated by the Holy Name.

That is why I did not make my real name known to those who came before you. The earlier ones knew Me as El Shaddai. They could however not be privy to My real Name. That is because some of the covenants were yet-to-be fulfilled. The faith I promise to you is one that will be fulfilled in your lifetime. The patriarchs died before the covenants of long ago could be completed. Now history is ripe for these things to all happen. That is why the name of faith, YHVH, is revealed to you, Moshe.

The question arises, why did God wait until now? What had changed in the intervening years that God could now reveal this new more powerful and intimate name?

The Talmud records dialogue between God and Moses. God despairs, Alas, the loss of those
who have passed away and are no longer found in this world. Many times I revealed Myself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob by the name of El Shaddai. They did not question My ways. They did not ask Me, "What is Your name?" You now ask from the start, "What is Your name?" And now you [Moshe] say to Me, "You have not saved Your people!" 1

Does this mean that the Patriarchs were more faithful servants than Moses? Is what God says a complaint against Moses? Or does it praise him? What are we supposed to learn from this soliloquy? That God wants us to question Him? Or that we should have faith and keep silent?
Going back in time, the first introduction to the name of El Shaddai is when Abram turned ninety years old. At this time in his life a covenant was presented to the aging patriarch that would establish a relationship that continued through to this day. The covenant referred to here is the pact of the circumcision. With this deed came the promise of endless progeny. “I will increase your numbers beyond your imagination,” promised God. 2

The covenant was contracted with Father Abraham. Who was speaking? What name was identified with the promise? The Speaker called Himself El Shaddai. Of course, this is God. But why does He call Himself by that name?

Later in Genesis 3, God again appeared to a patriarch, this time it was Jacob, and renewed the promise that his offspring would bring forth nations and kings that would span thousands of years. This promise to Jacob was also delivered by El Shaddai.

According to tradition there are no less than seventy-two names for God. Each one denotes a different aspect of Divinity. If that is so, what does El Shaddai mean? And why did the One use it here when speaking to the founders of Judaism? Perhaps the connection of this primal name of God is of generation? Since in both instances in Genesis, God promises to multiply the numbers of their offspring El Shaddai may represent growth, increase. In fact, the word Shaddai itself connotes generation as it is related to the Hebrew word breast.

Perhaps then this is why God no longer revealed His essence as El Shaddai. Not only have the promises been made but they have been kept. In Moses’ time the nation of Israel has grown and prospered. The people remained faithful to their side of the covenant and now awaited redemption from enslavement. Their needs are not for numbers but for freedom.

The great mystic Ramban reads into our text: The Holy One blessed be He says: Until now I had to remain concealed. Humanity was not yet ready for this. My name, YHVH, I did not make known to them. I could not make it known to them.

In other words, God hid His higher, quintessential self, from humanity until the era of slavery. In Genesis, the Patriarchs did not need to know of this aspect of God. Or perhaps they were not able to know the Divine Name of God yet. El Shaddai is a more opaque, more distant name of God It is more limited because the relationship between people and God was being re-created after the fall of Eden. Abraham knew God in more limited scope than Moses.

El Shadai represents a more limited manifestation of My being. They could never comprehend My infinite, unknowable essence. To you, on the other hand, I have revealed My truth. That is why you have questioned My ways.

The Holy One blessed be He made higher and lower crowns. 4 This – the name Shaddai -- is one of the lowest levels of Divinity. It is the place where God is most discernable and accessible. In fact, Shaddai is the point of separation between the upper and lower realms. Shade, which is how the first two letters of Shaddai reads, means demons. Shade denotes the darkest parts of human existence. When the final letter of yud is added to the double letter word, shade, it becomes a point of holiness. That is why it was the first name of the Holy One that was made known to the ancient Patriarchs. They were the ones who traversed from the world of darkness so the world of light.

The Patriarchs brought a new vision to the world of responsibility, hope, justice and most importantly, God.

In Kabbalistic lore Moshe’s relationship with God is emblematic of the attribute of Hokhma. While the Patriarchs represent the heart of the Jewish people Moshe brings the dimension of the mind of the Jewish nation. That is ultimately why the Holy One revealed His next crown of Self to Moshe here at the brink of the birth of the nation of Israel.

1 Sanhedrin 111a
2 Genesis 17:2
3 Genesis 35:11
4 Zohar 1:95b

Pharaoh's Agenda

2007-12-25T14:55:00.000-08:00

Torah ominously warns, “After the wicked do not run.” 1

The Torah agonizes over the lure of the masses. Perhaps it is easy to latch on to what we see people covet and then place a great premium on possessing that for ourselves. In this simple paradigm, we are simply motivated to want to have what others have. If our civilization hungers for more possessions we may feel a competitive and driving hunger to get more so that we feel greater personal value. By having more we are worth more. Or, it may be inescapable that the language of a society holds nuances of values that are conveyed in the way we speak. That may be why the Torah exhorts us to be wary of how society moves and what it caves.

Either way it is only the strongest people who are able to maintain their principles when they are antithetical or different than everyone else. As Avot states, “In a place where people have lost their humanity strive to maintain your humanity.”

That is why the ancient rabbis understood Abraham being chosen as the elect one who would become the new Adam of civilization. When Adam and Havvah failed the test of Eden; as their offspring became murderers and victims; and Noah, while resolute in his cloistered good life, could not be counted on to begin a new lineage; Abraham succeeded. At the time of the great Tower of Babel Abraham saw the inherent flaw in humanity’s all-consuming interest to storm the gates of heaven. 2

At the time of the Tower of Babel civilization converged at the plains of Shinar to work together: “Come let us build a city…” declared Nimrod. And people flocked to the center site of construction. 3 Seeing the masses move in unison at the word of their master Nimrod, Abraham refused to have any part of the travesty. He knew it was wrong. Further, Abraham spoke out against injustice and for the universal God. That is why God chose him to be the progenitor of the people that would change history. God viewed Abraham’s strength of character as outstanding among the vast peoples of the earth.

The next time the Torah speaks of people banding together to form an alliance is in biblical town Shechem. As Joseph, the dreamer, approaches his brothers they use the key words to unite them in purpose, “Let us…” The delivery is compelling. In uniting for a single focused end, the group of brothers forms a small society in which each of them feels compelled to go along for the sake of the whole. The individual brothers willingly give up their self as they are swallowed by the larger mass. While Judah and Reuben have reservations about what they plan to do to Joseph neither one is strong or resolute enough to change the herd’s attitude. They are not Abraham.

What is the secret of Abraham? What does he have that the other lack? The Talmud labels it humility 4. What Abraham, David and Moses all bear in common is an impoverished heart which lets them know there is a Master of the endless universe and they therefore understand their place in the world. That humility, states Rabbi Yohanan, allowed them to make choices that were independent of the herd-mentality. These spiritual giants did not take direction from the surrounding society. They did not jettison their soulful self in the all-too-human quest for acceptance. They listened to their inner voice; the Voice which never ceases. 5

Much later in history the villainous Haman uses the same principle on the king. “There is a specific people….it is not in our interest to suffer them.” 6 The seemingly boundless power to influence the king and harness the subjects by Haman emanates from his inclusiveness. He galvanizes both the people and the king using the Babel principle: “Come let us…” The language is irresistible. If they work together, the people reason, all will be well. The inhabitants of the city of Shushan under his power are moved to work together in a lock-step that brings the country to the brink of genocide.

In the Torah, Pharaoh too understood the concept of rallying his people against the common enemy. This tale is most revealing of all the plots to subjugate a people and ultimately commit atrocities. A clue to the real motive behind Pharaoh’s edicts is a slip of tongue. The unparalleled human power says to his people, “Come let us deal wisely with him.” 7 So begins the years of deprivation, degradation and extermination Yet, Pharaoh’s words reveal his true intent.

Note that the Pharaoh ought to have said “Come let us deal wisely with them.” The mistake did not go unnoticed by the ancient ones. 8 The enemy was not the Jewish people. It would not have been enough for the ruler of Egypt to murder the Jews. He knew better than that. To utterly wipe out any vestige of those who would rebel against the boundaries of society Pharaoh would have to do more.

Just as the people of Babel knew that they must storm the gates of heaven to be truly powerful the Pharaoh also understood the idea that he would first need to destroy their God. Only then would the Jews disappear. That was his slip of tongue when he pronounced “Come let us deal wisely with him.” That was his goal as was every despot that sought to destroy his children throughout the long ages.

What the pivotal figures of Jewish history all understood- both the evil ones and the tzaddikim- is that the people are inextricably bound up with their God. The covenant that first bound Father Abraham to God and was re-covenanted time and again until the ultimate covenant, Sinai, is the animating force that feeds life into us. That relationship forever links our destiny and binds our souls to the One.

For as long this covenant remains we are called upon to listen to the word of God and not the word of man.

1 Exodus 22:3
2 Sanhedrin 109
3 Genesis 11:4, Hullin 89a
4 Hullin 89a
5 Berachot 3a
6 Esther 3:8
7 Exodus 1:10
8 Sotah 11a

The End is Nigh

2007-12-20T15:08:00.000-08:00

Midrash indicates that during the time that Jacob thought Joseph was dead Jacob was like an empty husk; he was bereft of both his son and his connection to God. Woodenly walking through his days, Jacob’s devastation was complete. His son was gone. The Shechinah left him. This double-pain is connected.

When Jacob thought that Joseph was dead, he also believed that he had failed in his life’s mission: it had been revealed to him that if his sons died before him, he would descend to Gehinom 1. With Joseph apparently dead, Jacob spent his years awaiting his bitter fate in the "Next Universe." That is why when the message arrived that Joseph was alive, the Torah declares: The spirit of Jacob their father lived." 2 The Shechinah had returned to Father Jacob.

After twenty-two years, father and son reunite. The Torah describes this moment: "He (Joseph) saw him, he fell on his neck, and cried." 3

After twenty-two years Joseph could only weep. The tears of anger, regret and separation covered Joseph’s face and blurred his vision. What did Jacob do while Joseph cried? Rashi again provides an answer:

Jacob did not fall on the neck of Joseph. He did not kiss him. He did not weep. The Sages explain that Jacob was saying the Sh'ma. 4

Jacob's response to seeing his long-lost son was to say the Sh'ma? After not seeing his son for more than two decades -- remember that Jacob believed that Joseph was torn by wild beasts—Jacob had already come to terms with the death of his son and accepted his future consignment to Gehinom – Jacob uttered the Sh'ma! Why?

Why did Jacob say Shma Yisrael and not just cry like his son? Or why not simply give thanks to God? Even more, why did he add the words Shma Yisrael, “Listen Israel,” when Jacob could have just said, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. After all, who was Jacob speaking to (remember his new name was Israel)? Was he talking to himself?

No, Jacob is addressing a hopeful future. Until now, there was only a dismal end to the family line, a sudden end to his grandfather’s and father’s legacy. Having broken the line of transmission when Joseph died, Jacob expected only Gehinom for himself and a historical footnote for the nascent Jewish people.

That is why Jacob added the words "Listen Israel." He spoke to the future. Think of Jacob’s prayer as “Listen you yet-unborn-generations who shall be know by my name Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”

D’var Aher:

The holy Torah reads as passages that flow from one column to the next. With no spaces or beaks in the long narrative they form a seamless line connecting passage streams. Invariably, when one Torah portion ends and another begins there is a space, a break in the rush of words. This is not true in Vayichi. There is no break. It is called satum, "closed."

In an oddity with the usual division of parshiot in the Torah last week’s portion ends and this one begins with no discernable break. Why is this portion satum? Rashi shares that the death of Jacob caused a closing of the eyes and hearts of Israel. The troubles of the oppression began. The nation that gave them sanctuary would now become their ruthless oppressor. As a result, Jacob wanted to reveal the end of days to his children to give them hope. As a seer he knew that he could decipher what would happen to his descendents. Jacob gathered his children around his bedside and share with them the future. As he opened his mouth to speak the prophecy evaporated, the future was closed to him. 5

The death of Jacob represented the end of an era. The patriarchal age was drawing to a close. A new generation would begin with no visible leader to guide them. Jacob felt an almost desperate need to reveal to his children what waited for them. He wished to give them hope.
“And Jacob called his sons and said 'Gather, and I will tell you, what will happen to you in the end of days’ ..." 6

Jacob gathered his children around his bedside. Ailing, weak and frail from the visage of the Angel of Death nearing, Jacob wanted to inform them of the future. A momentary pause. A lapse in memory. Jacob became disoriented, confused. Instead, he blessed them. At the moment this revelation is to take place, Jacob's vision eludes him. This is how the Talmud describes the scene:

Jacob wished to reveal the ketz, the end of time, but the Shechinah left him. He became bewildered. He was prescient just a moment before. What happened to him? Jacob said, "Perhaps there is a flaw in my children like Abraham who fathered Ishmael, or father Isaac who bore Esau." 7

In his blank confusion and emptiness Jacob did not fear dementia he agonized that there was something lacking in his children. Perhaps, Jacob thought, it was far more insidious than that, he had failed his life’s mission.

The Talmud then connects Jacob's fear with the errant offspring of his father and grandfather. Why should Jacob have expected that his children would be greater than the children of Abraham or Isaac? If Abraham could father an Ishmael and Isaac could father an Esau, why would Jacob expect that his family would emerge whole? If this was true then Jacob was the last of his lineage.

Jacob's sons respond to their father’s deep and real fear. They responded to his dumbfounded silence by saying, "Sh'ma Israel Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad, Listen Israel, the Lord is Our God, the Lord is One." What the children affirmed before their father, the last dying Patriarch, was that they would be true to his moral direction. Father Jacob would die but his tradition would extend beyond his life.

With these words, the next generation assured their father that they truly accept the One God. When Jacob realizes that his children were one nation, he utters the words the entire nation will later use to respond to the Shechinah. "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever." 8 Jacob’s life was complete, whole.

The resonance of that event sent ripples through the many generations to follow. Jacob’s declaration was later said every Yom Kippur by the Jewish gathering on the Holy Day. At the Temple, when they heard the Divine Name annunciated by the Kohen Gadol, it not only brought the presence of the Shechinah but initiated the response from the people, "Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'olam Va'ed, Blessed be the honorable name of His kingship forever and ever.

Genesis comes to an end. Time and destiny will eventually bring the Jews to Mount Sinai. The Sh'ma will remain the most powerful declaration of unity of people and connection to God.
Why was Jacob refused the privilege of seeing and sharing the vision of the "end of days"? Jacob was not an unworthy father or careless inheritor of the tradition handed to him. There was no flaw. Some books must remain closed.

D’var Aher:

The Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto had a different reading on Jacob’s struggle to find the ketz, the End of Days. According to him, ligalot et haketz (which means to reveal the end) could also mean it as “liglot.” Liglot means “to expel”.

Why did the Torah not leave the regular gap or space before this week’s portion? The Warsaw Rebbe indicated that Jacob wanted to expel the ketz, the “end.” Jacob wanted to end the human pains this physical existence. Jacob wanted to share with his children the secrets of the white spaces of the Torah. It could not be. The world, God decided, was not yet ready for the Redemption. The way became satum, closed, to Jacob.

Still, we wait.

1 Rashi on 37:35
2 Genesis 45:27
3 Genesis 46:29
4 Rashi on 46:29
5 Rashi 47:28 and Bereshit Rabba 96:1
6 Genesis 49:1-3
7 Pesahim 56a
8 Pesahim 56a

Choosing Pain

2007-12-11T17:28:00.000-08:00

We chose pain. Can you imagine that? Choosing pain? Who would do such a thing? Yet, that is precisely what happened. We chose it.

If there is a single moral to the tale of Creation it is that Adam HaRishon - primordial man- elected to take the path of pain instead of spending his days in utter comfort. The Garden was perfect. There were no needs or wants. There was work to be done and the possibility of failure did not exist. There could be no failure. Likewise there was nothing to succeed at. All Adam HaRishon had to do was breathe.

In taking the forbidden fruit shame ensconced itself in the consciousness of the two beings. First naked and unabashed 1 Adam and Havvah felt their vulnerability begin to grow into an unrelenting self-conscious throb. Once comfortable in their own skin the couple now felt no comfort, only a constant gnawing of self-doubt and recrimination. Instead of roaming about the Garden, Adam and Havvah now crouched low in the bushes. Just moments before the universe stretched before them. In one moment he world had closed in on them. The skies felt like they were crushing down upon them.

Self-loathing and fear gripped Adam and Havvah. Dark suspicions colored the previously pristine Garden. They accused one another, contemptuously.

He said, "The woman that You gave me — she gave the fruit…" "The woman said, The serpent…"

Perfection was blemished. Shunned from Eden, Adam and Havvah now had to deal with previously unimagined pains that would assault their physical being and relentlessly pursue their consciousness. They crouched lower into the foliage, terrified of the growing inner darkness.

Why did they choose the path of pain?

On Hanukka we celebrate in many ways. Among the more opaque observances is the tradition of spinning the dreidle. A commentator, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, said that the difference between Hanukka and Purim is best demonstrated by the dreidle and the gragger.

The dreidle is spun by taking hold of the top and twisting your wrist. The gragger is sounded by taking hold of the bottom and yanking it around. One is gripped from below; the other above. That reminds us of the difference between the two holidays. While Purim celebrates the ability of Esther to find her self and God and save the Jews, below; Hanukka recalls the intervention of God in coming to the aid of the Hasmonean warriors, above, with the miracle of the oil.

Redemption has different origins in the two holidays. There are times when we depend upon God and other times when we must depend upon ourselves. Yet, the connection between Purim and Hanukka is that redemption only comes about through struggle, pain. Both tales are pock-marked with rivalry, desperation and fear.

It would be nice if life was different; if our lives were not so riddled with wounds…and it was for a brief flicker of time in our past. The Garden of Eden. We return to our first question: why did they do it? Why did the sole inhabitants of Paradise forfeit perfection? Why could they not turn their backs from the Tree of Knowledge and forever walk in the Divine Radiance?

The question of pain is paramount in the parasha of the week as the family of Jacob descends into the fist of Egypt that would last for hundreds of years. At first it is a move that benefits everybody. Prosperity swiftly turns to anguish and despair as th children of Jacob become slaves to their present-day neighbors. Why such pain? Why must generation after generation endure agony?

In connection with the week’s Torah reading, a tale offers the following insight:
A farmer needed to yoke his cow. The cow had no desire to have the wooden plank placed around its neck and then tightened on her shoulders. She balked. Turning her neck this way and that the farmer could not yoke the animal. So what did the farmer do?
The farmer went to his shed and led her calf out in front of the mother. Pathetically bleating, the calf made the mother-cow lurch protectively forward. Because of her child, the cow allowed herself to become yoked.

It was foretold that Jacob would migrate to Egypt long ago. 2 The descent into Egypt and the subsequent affliction was part of a pact that God made with Father Abraham. There were countless ways to facilitate the yet-to-be-born descendent of Abraham leaving Canaan for Egypt but God decided to bring the calf first to induce its mother. The Holy One declared: He is My firstborn. Shall I then bring him down to Egypt in disgrace? I will draw his son before him, and so he will follow. Joseph was the lynchpin – the calf -- that forced Jacob to move. Jacob was compelled to go down to Egypt.

What does this Midrash mean? Does God want us to suffer? He ordained the slavery? It was part of God’s plan that Abraham’s descendents be slaves? Why?

It would seem that man and God are in collusion: they both believe that suffering is a necessary part of the human condition.

Rashi commented on the remarkable episode when Moses viewed the blazing bush on the mountaintop. 3 "Just as you see this bush burning while remaining intact so you carry My mission and will not be destroyed."

God did not promise that the process would be easy. There would be pain; the kind that invariably accompanies flame. God didn't say there would be no suffering. God only promised that we would not be alone and that we would survive.

In an early Talmudic passage there is the powerful statement, 4 A voice from heaven courses through the world three times each day that weeps for the pain and loss of God’s people.
If God weeps for our loss why then do we suffer?

The answer lies in the Garden of Eden. In the great experiment of human contentment, a dismal failure, a lesson was learned: humanity is happiest when learning and growing from its own mistakes. That is why Adam and Havvah chose the path of pain. It not only gave them a choice but the experience of hurt and failure allowed them to grow.

Perhaps that is also why God placed us in Egypt because that too, was part of our collective growth. Could it be that the act of suffering leads us to new spiritual ground?
Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said: The Holy One, Blessed is He, gave three good gifts to the Jewish people, and all are acquired through suffering: Torah, the Land of Israel, and the World to Come. 5

Elsewhere, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai taught: Come and see how beloved is Israel to the Holy One, the Well of all blessing. When Israel went into exile, the Shechina went along into exile. They went to exile to Egypt, the Shechina went with them….They went to Babylon in exile and the Shechina went with them, as it is written, because of you I was sent to Babylon (Isaiah 43:14). When they will eventually be redeemed, the Shechina will be redeemed along with them, as it is written, Then the Lord your God will bring back your captivity and have mercy upon you (Deut. 30:3). God Himself returns along with Israel from its exiles. 6

Once life was perfect and that was the problem. Now we live a life that is rife with problems and it is perfect.

1 Genesis 2:25
2 Genesis15:13
3 Exodus 3:12
4 Berachot 3a
5 Berachot 5a
6 Megilah, 29a

Joseph's Pit

2007-12-05T18:58:00.000-08:00

Joseph is the dreamer.

At once, it is a gift and a curse. It is a gift because the dreams are prescient. Each one accurately predicts the future. As Joseph reveals his dreams it is clear that he prophesies. Who would not covet the ability to be privy to what will happen tomorrow? Imagine what you could do with that information!

It is a curse because Joseph is oblivious to the meaning and import of his dreams. He dreams but does not know what to do with them, how to interpret them or how they affect his family. Innocently, Joseph approaches his family and does not shrink from sharing the minute details of a prophesy that has them groveling before their younger sibling. His brothers realize the gravity of the dream; they recognize the gift and grow increasingly impatient with his naiveté. Jacob, the father, also understands Joseph’s gift. Even as he rails against the implication of Joseph’s night visions, he consciously ‘guards what Joseph has spoken.’ 1

As years pass, Joseph changes. Almost unnoticed, Joseph is transformed from dreamer to interpreter of dreams. Does Joseph even have dreams anymore? We do not know. Now Joseph reads meaning into other people’s dreams. No longer the dreamer, now Joseph is truly the “master of dreams” as he accurately interprets the Pharaoh’s nightmares as well as his fellow prisoners in the dungeons of Egypt. The dreaming theme is a thread that wends its way through the many layers of Joseph’s life.

Yet, there is another more idiosyncratic, recurrent theme in Joseph’s years, the pit.

First off, what was this pit? Where did it come from? Deep shafts in the earth generally do not appear by themselves. How did it come to be there? The pit was one of many wells dug by Jacob in his search for the desert elixir, water. The pit, or well, was dug in order to be used by his shepherds, drunk by his children in the field and used to irrigate the crops this well was an essential lifeline.

Seeing the “dreamer” approach them, the brothers contemplated murder. At the last moment an idea seized Reuben. Instead of fratricide there was a cleaner way to get rid of the nuisance. Reuben turned to his brothers as Joseph came toward them. “My brothers, instead of killing him, why not throw Joseph into the dry pit? [There was one attempt a digging a well that yielded no water.] Our fathers dug many wells. There is one here!” God, knowing what the brothers would plan, kept the water level from rising. Only after Joseph was sold to the passing merchants did the Holy One allow the waters to rise to their natural level. 2 Joseph was thrown into the empty hole.

The books of Psalms often inject the full spectrum of human emotion into biblical events. The reader of Psalms needs to be alert to clues that refer back to events of long before. In Psalm 30, a voice cries “What benefit is there if my blood is spilled? If I descend down into nothingness?” Earlier, in this same psalm the plaintive voice cries, “Lord You have lifted my self up from She’ol. You have preserved my life from its descent into the pit.”

The pitiful moan in Psalm 30 is resonant with Joseph’s terrified cry from the pit that seemed to close in on him. In fact the very language that Reuben uses in Genesis “What benefit is there…” 3 is the same Hebrew word used in Psalm 30. The only real difference is that Psalms identifies the pit with a place called She’ol.

She’ol is a living hell. It lies in the depths of despair. She’ol is a place of utter desolation and loneliness where the sole inhabitant is you. When Joseph was thrown into the pit he was truly cut off from everything. The darkness was complete and blank. It was She’ol, an inescapable and a seeming unending nightmare.

Question: Does the terrain of She’ol seem familiar? Have you ever been cast into this pit, deprived of light and love?

Now, the reading from Psalms brings more sense to us 4. What was this pit that Joseph was cast into? She’ol. The place where the brothers threw Joseph was into empty darkness. It was a pit of infinite dimensions where no light was allowed to penetrate the thick blanket of evil.

Stripping Joseph of his coat of Light and placing him in treacherous surroundings was the greatest challenge to Joseph of his life.

Another question: why does the usually terse Torah state, “The pit was empty. There was no water in it.” Of course there was no water in it. It was “empty!” What reason could there be for the Torah restating the obvious?

Rabbi Acha interpreted this seeming redundancy to mean that “no water” means there was no Torah. 5 In other words, not only was Joseph callously thrown into a dank pit but he was deprived of Light while there. Joseph miserably sat in the pit for two days with no “water” to nourish his soul.

Until now Joseph was content. All his needs were answered. He was immersed in Torah. He found listening to the word of God as easy as carrying on a conversation with his father. Unfiltered prophesies came to his open mind unchallenged and whole. He was educated and sheltered in the shadow of God. Through the prism of his eyes Joseph was bathed in truth.
Then came the fall of the curtain of darkness that stripped him of all hope.

More years pass by in the sweep of a few sentences. Once again, Joseph was tossed into a pit (bor). 6 In English it might be translated s ‘dungeon’ but the word in the original text is identical, bor. It is the pit once more.

According to the holy Zohar, 7 "And they took him, and cast him into a pit," Is an indication to Joseph of his descent into the darkness. As it continues, This refers to casting him into Egypt. There the key of faith does not dwell. Water is the key of faith. When it is written: "The pit was empty," it refers the absence of the key of faith.

That is why Rashi tells us that Joseph’s pit was filled with scorpions and snakes. The greatest danger to Joseph was in taking him from the water of his faith.

That is also the kabbalisitc meaning of “going down to Egypt.” It is a descent into the pit of She’ol.

Every person must undertake the same journey into despair and hopelessness. Every person will enter the pit.

In the Jewish tradition Joseph is a tzaddik, one of the most righteous. Yet, he was not always a tzaddik. He first had to master himself. Joseph’s transformation began at the moment he was thrust into the unyielding darkness of She’ol. After his long nights of weeping dread Joseph emerged from the darkness of the pit as a true tzaddik. The story of Joseph concludes. He refused to give in to the dark. Instead, he fought to keep his faith. Then the tzaddik was born.
Only when he is pulled from the pit do we glimpse the new Joseph, the Joseph who-has-become.

When Father Jacob died, Joseph and his brothers brought his body to be interred at the ancient burial site, Machpelah. On the way the group passed by the pit where Joseph was thrown so long ago. Joseph stopped and stared. He peered down into the emptiness and opened his mouth: Baruch Ata Sh’asah li nes b’makom hazeh. Blessed be the Lord God who performed a miracle for me here. 8

Now, in the final chapters of Genesis the transformation is complete: Joseph the dreamer is now the “master of dreams.” All life is watched by the Eye that does not sleep; it does not even blink. The dreams have been fulfilled and Joseph the tzaddik knows his place in the world. All things come from God. Our task is to listen and follow.

1 Genesis 37:11
2 Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg
3 Genesis 3:26
4 See also Ps. 143:7. 49:9; 55:24; 103:4 and 88:5
5 Yalkut Shimoni
6 Genesis 41:14
7 Zohar, Vayishlach 130
8 Bereshit Rabba

Shechem, Jacob’s Last Stand

2007-11-29T16:06:00.000-08:00

Ramban, the great interpreter of Torah and mystic of the thirteenth century, noted, “What happens to the fathers is a portent for the offspring.”

Ramban meant that sometimes there is a convergence that takes place between generations that may never actually meet. For example, a grandfather may pass on a story which becomes a key to unravel the mission of his granddaughter many years later. Perhaps some act may appear meaningless in its own time but become a gift only revealed many years afterward. There are times, Ramban implied, when one generation places a seed in the ground that lies dormant until germinated by a later generation.

An example of this is intergenerational transfer that occurs in Genesis And Abram passed through the land, until the site of Shechem, until the plain of Moreh….1 Rashi comments that, “And Abram passed through the land,” means that Abram entered and continued his trek, “until the site of Shechem.” That is, Abram ventured into this unknown land of Canaan following the command of God and, for some inexplicable reason only stopped when he reached the town of Shechem. The Lord God told Abram to build an altar on land that would support such holiness. 2 Abram chose Shechem.

Why did the Patriarch choose this place to halt his journey and build the altar? What did Abram see? Did the Patriarch sense something palpable coming from this place? He could have stopped and built his altar in any place, even Jerusalem. Why then did Abram stop his family’s migration at Shechem? More: Abram knew that not only was this the place to build his altar but there was also something powerful he needed to deposit into the earth that would remain quiescent; it would wait until its appointed time to germinate and sprout much later there.
*
Many years later after the death of Moshe Rabbenu, Joshua led the people into the Land. There they engaged in a series of struggles before they were able to settle peacefully in the land. After Joshua‘s major victory at Ai he arrived in Shechem. There, Joshua took and arranged large pieces of stone and engraved on them words of the holy Torah. Joshua assembled all the elders and judges and stood next to the Ark that the Israelites carried since Mt Sinai as he proceeded to renew the holy covenant with God at Shechem. Why did Joshua choose this place to renew the covenant? He was following the same instructions given to Moses one generation before. This was the second time the covenant was enacted. 3 Both covenants were struck at Shechem.

Time passed. Many wars were fought under Joshua’s leadership. Among the more famous were the battles of Jericho where the walls tumbled and Gibeon where the sun halted its movement across the heavens. Joshua fought a massive war against an alliance of armies in Jerusalem and a northern war against a Canaanite despot, Jabin. After many years of conquest, setbacks and tireless leadership Joshua realized that death was coming close. With that knowledge Joshua gathered his people together for a final goodbye. His words were well-chosen, expressed and delivered. The chosen place for his farewell address? Shechem. 4 Joshua understood the innate sanctity of the place. His soul recognized the holiness of that city and so connected with his forefathers in his final act.

In earlier history, Shechem was set aside as a City of Refuge 5. A City of Refuge was a protected sanctuary ordained at the time of Moses to shield anyone who had committed, or was accused of a terrible crime. There the accused could flee and live free from fear of vengeful families. The refugees would live in safety until a court could determine whether they were guilty or innocent.

Going even further back, Shechem is mentioned in the Torah in Jacob’s lifetime. After an exile of twenty-two years Jacob returned to Canaan to resume his life after some horrible experiences. He wrestled an angel, confronted an estranged and angry brother and narrowly escaped his ruthless father-in-law. Now, in his middle-to-late years, Jacob settled into the Holy Land. Of all the possible location where did Jacob choose to live? Shechem.

Jacob purchased the property of Shechem for 100 kesitas from Hamor, the prince of the country 6. To mark his new home and dedicate the balance of his life to God, Jacob built an altar to honor the Holy One, blessed be He...just as did Abraham two generations before….just as Moses would hundreds of years later….and Joshua after him.
*
According to a tanna, one of the nameless and faceless ancient sages, Shechem is a place where bad things happen. 7

Jacob's arrival at Shechem was to be the beginning of a new and tranquil part of Jacob’s life. It was not. No sooner had Jacob secured his tent into the ground when his daughter, Dinah, was violated. The rapist was coincidently (Is there such a thing?) named for the city where he lived, Shechem. Jacob’s sons responded with violence of their own. They destroyed the city, killed all the males and stripped Shechem bare.

In the ashes of his home- the place that was supposed to have been his new -found haven - Jacob wept. Why was his life so difficult? Dismayed and deeply pained Jacob gathered all the gold, silver and valuables that were pillaged by his sons. Jacob then carried them out to the place where his grandfather, Abram, first built an altar to God upon his arrival in Canaan. Jacob dug a deep hole and buried the tainted loot. The tree under which Abraham had built his altar remained a silent witness to Jacob’s pain as he threw brown clods of earth over the spoils.

With shadows of the past casting a dank pall over Shechem, the Torah informs us, “Now, his [Joseph] brothers went to pasture their father's flock in Shechem.” 8 Joseph was sent out to find his brothers. Instead, Joseph the dreamer narrowly escaped death. This was the last time Joseph would ever see the town of Shechem. Joseph was dragged off was as a young man weighed down by chains and sold to passing merchants as a slave.

Years later, just before Jacob died he deeded to Joseph a single inheritance-- the city of Shechem. 9 In Shechem Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery and it was to Shechem that the bones of Joseph were brought from Egypt hundreds of years later for their final interment.
What do all the disparate events mean? How do we understand the meaning of Shechem? Is it holy? Profane?

Something about the physical space of Shechem acted as a magnet to Abram. It compelled Joshua to set up an altar in the same place where Moses erected one a generation before. A force pulled both leaders to make and confirm a covenant with God in Shechem. It was also the place of much pain for Jacob, Dinah, Jacob’s sons; Shechem was the place of Joseph’s betrayal and finally his sepulcher. Was the draw that Abram felt to Shechem diminished by the rape of Dinah? What made this place so compelling, life-changing and powerful?

In the time of the resurrection of the dead, many camps will arise in northern land of Israel because that is where the Messiah is going to be first revealed, since it is part of Joseph's territory. 10

That which is secret shall be revealed. In the holy prayer recited immediately after the Shma, a hint of the meaning of all the allusions to Shechem and the future of the Jewish people can be deciphered. The prayer begins, Baruch Shem K’vod Malchuto. Taking the first letter of each word we can see secreted in Hebrew B’Shechem, “in Shechem.”

Baruch Shem kevod malchuto ends with, l'olam va'ed, “for all time.” The Hebrew letters of these last two words spell lamed-vov, or thirty-six. Taken altogether the entire phrase indicates, "in Shechem, thirty-six."
*
The original first light that was cast at the beginning of time did not emanate from the sun. Genesis tell us that light preceded the great orb. This first light was a different sort of light; a spiritual illumination that had its source elsewhere. It was the supernal light of Creation which God secreted away for the righteous people of history yet-to-be. 11 This light shone for thirty-six hours before God hid it away. This light is redemption; when it is released, all evil will be banished. From this hidden light comes the tradition of the lamed-vov, the holy thirty-six.
Perhaps in a subtle way the Torah is trying to show the reader the incalculable worth of Shechem. People of great vision immediately saw the place for what it really was: a locale where the Ultimate Light would reveal itself. Even people not spiritually aware who visited Shechem felt the ripples that emanated from that spot. That is why so many eventful happenings occurred there. Even in our time, we watched as Joseph’s tomb was vandalized and decimated. None of the other resting places of the Patriarchs has been disturbed. Only Joseph’s tomb in Shechem. It still exerts a power.

Perhaps this is the place where God will finally begin the final redemption. Shechem is where the bondage began when Joseph was sold as a slave and it will become the beacon where the light of the lamed-vov will shine from in the future.

1 Genesis 12:6
2 Midrash Yalkut Shimoni
3 Deuteronomy 27
4 Joshua 24
5 Numbers 35
6 Genesis 33 18-19
7 Sanhedrin 102a
8 Genesis 37:12
9 Genesis 48:22
10 Zohar, Vayakhel 220a
11 Berachot 52b

The House of Jacob Shall be a Fire

2007-11-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

"The house of Jacob shall be a fire.” Prophet Ovadia 1:18

Angels seem to appear at each pivotal moment in the life of Jacob. When heaven feels like it is about to collide with the earth under Jacob’s feet, he is met by these celestial visitors.

Imagine. A mother advising her child to take a blessing using subterfuge. The young man obliges by donning fur to deceive his aged and blind father. It is a highly emotionally charged moment. Jacob is caught in a tight web where, if he fails, the rest of his life will be a misery. If Jacob succeeds, phantasms or demons will crowd and hound him until he dies. It is an impossible situation. Almost blindly, mechanically, Jacob walks toward the inevitable.

Imagine. A throaty howl of anguish rises from his father’s bedside when Esau understands that his brother has collected the birthright prize. Wild and uncontrolled, Jacob knew that the target of the howl was directed at him. Jacob was the cause of the unleashed anger. Echoing through the valleys, the screeches of Esau reverberate through the universe. The anguished cries fill his ears. Jacob hears, understands, and believes the death threat against him by his twin, Esau. Imagine an interminable exile.

As Jacob fled from his home to escape the mark of death, he dreamt of a ladder bridging heaven and earth. Jacob felt the hollows of his stomach expanding. At once, the vision filled him with awe and a vast understanding. The vision could not have come at a better time. Shorn of love and protection; deprived of his home; alone and empty; Jacob is reassured by the heavenly angels that his exile is part of a greater plan. He called the place Bayt El, the House of God.

Was there a deeper meaning to this vision of Jacob? Was it only to assuage the awful feelings of betrayal and loneliness? Or was there something more? The Midrash 1 informs us that the angels ascending and descending the heavenly ladder represents something greater than the portal to heaven. It revealed the course of history or, more accurately, the future. Throughout the coming epochs, powerful nations would rise to great heights. They would conquer nations and despoil entire continents. Ultimately, each nation would falter and then disappear into the vast abyss of time. Jacob and his progeny, however, were promised that they would live throughout all the tumultuous times and survive beyond each nation. Jacob received an assurance, a guarantee that this exile was purposeful.
Question: Do we get what we need? Does God provide for us? Looking over past years has there been a guiding hand gently charting our course through life? Has our past been a random series of events or a pathway that can be seen only with from a distance?

A day rolls into years as Jacob ages and negotiates a long series of painful deceptions. Life is not easy for Jacob. Finally, the tortured past catches up with the painful present.

‘It is time,’ Jacob decides. Determined to recover the fragments of his past life, Jacob makes the choice he had carefully avoided for too long: he will return and confront the reason for the years of exile. A decision has been reached: the years have not dulled the ache. Putting off the inevitable reckoning does nothing to deaden the pain. Jacob has already tried that for more than two decades. Still, the nightmares continued.

If Jacob is ever going to be whole, he will have to face his nemesis- and the other part of his soul - Esau. Even this decision is not simple. Once again, Jacob finds that he must run from the clutches of another who seeks to destroy him. Nothing is linear for the patriarch. Each choice he makes is fraught with painful choices and great hurdles. In the final analysis, it is only through God’s intervention that the life of Jacob is spared.

On the eve of meeting his brother, Jacob has a second encounter with angels. In a camp called Machanyim, they come to Jacob. Jacob converses with the angels and asks them to guide him towards his ultimate confrontation.

The angels assure Jacob that he is not alone. In fact, they imply that they have been with Jacob all through his journey. They have provided guidance when Laban came to accost Jacob with the flocks of sheep. The angels watched over Jacob as he worked for his father-in-law. They were even responsible for his financial success as well as his survival. The angels protected and guided Jacob through the last treacherous encounter with Laban. Repeatedly, the angels materialize to suggest to the patriarch that he has never been entirely alone. It is not incidental or trivial that the angels now appear to Jacob. He is full of anxiety and they reassure him that his actions and his life matter.
Question: Is it possible that you are never truly alone? Could it be that our lives are criss-crossed with the footprints of heavenly beings? With enough insight, would he be able to see them like Father Jacob?

Finally, for the last recorded time in the Bible, Jacob encounters an angel. This time it is significantly different, however. The angel does not come to Jacob with comfort or support. There are no promises of deliverance. He offers death.

Jacob wrestles the angel until dawn. When the sun rises, Jacob gains a blessing from the heavenly messenger. The blessing? A name change. Now Jacob has become Israel.

What was the apparition that attacked Jacob? Was it really an angel? Rashi reveals that it was the protecting angel of Esau. Stealing across the river in the blank starless night, Esau’s angel stealthily crept up on Jacob, hoping to destroy him. The Talmud records that the fight was so ferocious that the dust kicked up by their engagement covered the land and traveled up to heaven. 2

Jacob refused defeat despite a hip injury. He clung to both life and hope throughout the long night. Giving up may have cost Jacob his life. Or perhaps it would have meant that his life was a tragic mistake. Either choice he would make led to a dismal end. Jacob refused either option. He grasped the destructive angel, tenaciously clinging to him and demanding that he be blessed. It is a blessing like the one that he coveted so long ago at his father’s bedside.

Alternative ending: Jacob endured the darkest moment of his life. That unlit night Jacob found and revealed truest self. In a remote land, naked and vulnerable, Jacob encountered his yetser hara, the darkest part of himself. The angel was actually a part of Jacob that was unwanted, unacknowledged. It now became unavoidable: Jacob had to face segments of his past that were guilty of connivance and duplicity. If was ever going to become whole, Jacob had to confront his soul and scourge the wounds festering there.
Question: The question sits at the door of our psyche and will not go away. It gnaws at our soul and saps our strength. The incessant demands can be ignored for so long, and no longer. When we ultimately open the door who wins? He who is ready for the dark night of reckoning.

Jacob announces to the angel: "I will not let you go unless you bless me." 3 The angel responds to Jacob’s demand with a question, "What is your name?"

How can it be that the angel does not know Jacob’s name? Has he not been sent on a mission to find and destroy Jacob? It is not possible that the angel does not know who his intended victim is.

Kalonymos Kalman Shapira, the rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto, offered a novel insight. Hurt by the fight, the angel prepares to leave the wounded Jacob.

"Is that it?” Jacob is incredulous. “Is that all? Is this the fate of the Jewish people? We are forever to fight and be hurt and reviled? Our destiny is to suffer? Our lot is to endure hardship? Our future is pockmarked with struggle? We merely survive and then you turn your back and walk away from us? I cannot let this happen! It must nor be!

“Give me more. Bless me! I demand a blessing that will be worthy of a people yet-to-come, my descendents. Bless the future nation that resides within me. I want you to bensch me!

Jacob was not only seeking the survival of his people and a respite from their enemies; he was demanding redemption. It is not enough to endure and emerge from suffering; there must be a kernel of hope that lies at the end; a Divine promise.

The angel asked Jacob’s name because Jacob means "holds onto the heel." Jacob entered the world fastening on to the heel of his twin brother, Esau. Throughout his life, Jacob continued to grasp on to the heels of others. The angel now reveals that this will no longer be true. That is why the heavenly emissary asks, "What is your name?"

For too long Jacob was defined by his name. In order to change the future the angel changes the present. That is why the angel says to Jacob, This is my blessing; your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, “for you have striven with the Divine and with man and you have overcome." 4

In having the chutzpah to demand a promise from the angel, Jacob was rewarded. The future was determined by his willingness to open his heart. The angel promises redemption. To this day, we bear the name of that promise.
Question:What do we ask of God when we pray? As our hearts open for the Almighty what spills out? To what level does our soul aspire? For Jacob, it was nothing less than the ultimate redemption. For you?

1. Midrash Tanchuma, Vayetze 2.
2. Hullin 91
3. Ibid., 32:27
4. Genesis 32:29

The Rock, Jacob and Me

2007-11-14T16:00:00.000-08:00

Torah text:
Verses 10-11. Jacob left Beersheba and went to Haran. And he arrived at the Place [Makom].
How could he have arrived at the place, i.e. Haran? He was not even close to it. Haran was a long journey from Canaan. Jacob had just begun his journey! Much later, Jacob finally arrived there. So where was Jacob that the Torah insists that he had arrived? Where had he arrived if he was not yet there?
Jacob had set out for Haran, his mother's home of origin, but found that there was a far more important destination than the one that was on his itinerary. Something profoundly important was intended for Jacob on the road to Haran. A voice was calling. He stopped. What did Jacob see when he arrived at the appointed "place?" What did he hear that made him stop?
Makom is one of the seventy names of God. Jacob witnessed the pulsating strength of Makom (the Place) from afar. He saw the Ineffable. Jacob was drawn to the Holy of Holies. Hundreds of years later when the Lord revealed Himself to Moses, God said, the “Makom is with Me." (Exodus 33:21)
What if Jacob passed by the Makom of God without seeing it? What if Jacob was so preoccupied with his life-crisis that he missed the Presence of the One? We would certainly understand. Jacob had reason to be distracted: his brother threatened to kill him; his family life was in ruins; he had abandoned his aging parents.
What if Jacob was looking in the other direction and sullenly plodded all the way to Haran? He would have seen nothing but he eddies of dust rising from his footfalls on the trail.
What if the Messiah sits on the corner holding a cardboard sign saying: I am hungry and homeless? And we pass by? What if in our daily rush we derail the next budding scientist on their way to discovering a cure for Alzheimers by telling them they are worthless? What if we miss a child's outstretched hand? What if we miss the point of life?

Torah text:
Verse 11. And he arrived at the Place and lodged there because the sun had set.
Rabbi Joshua ben Levi said: Our forefathers instituted the daily cycle of three prayers. Abraham was the first to create the morning, Shacharit, prayer. As Genesis 19:27 explains, "Abraham got up early in the morning to the place where he had stood before God." Isaac instituted the Mincha, afternoon prayer. "And Isaac went out to meditate in the field toward evening." Gen. 24:63 Jacob initiated the evening prayer, as it says above, "And he arrived at the Place... because the sun had set." Midrash Rabbah

Torah text:
Verse 12. A ladder stood on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven…
The holy Zohar reveals the meaning of this passage: this is prayer. Deep contemplative prayer reveals itself as a cosmic roadway to God. Words spoken from the soul break through any physical or psychic barrier and unveil the ladder which we climb to meet the Holy One.

Torah text:
Verse 12. …and behold, angels of God were ascending and descending upon it.
Two Angels descended and two ascended at one time. What happened when they met in the middle? The breadth of a single Angel’s wings spread beyond the eyesight. When their paths intersected at the center of the great ladder, the span of the four Angels stretched outward to six thousand parsangs.
*
Why were some Angels going up and others coming down?
They were curious. The Angels wanted to peer at the sleeping figure of Jacob. As he lay resting on the stones of Mt Moriah, the Angels were intrigued. They gazed and then gaped at Jacob. In heaven they had seen his double! The Angels were anxious and vexed to see the heavenly correlate of Jacob on earth. They flowed down the ladder in pairs to stare at the Jacob below and then compare him the figure of Jacob above. Two Jacobs existed; one in heaven the other on earth. Hullin 91b
All things in the universe have their counterpart, their twin. God constructed a dividing line in the initial stages of the creation of the cosmos called the firmament. The firmament divides these twin likenesses. What happens below is reflected on high. That which happens above also happens below. This idea is crystallized by the Hebrew prayer, May He Who makes peace in the upper world cause peace to flow downward into our universe. Each side of the firmament is not just a mirror image of the other; actions in one sphere have an immediate impact in the other.
No action is inconsequential. No word uttered in meaningless. A single act could alter the cosmos. Our lives are critical to the universe. We count. We matter.

Torah text:
Verses 13-15. Behold, the Lord was standing over him, and He said, "I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father, and the God of Isaac; the land upon which you are lying to you I will give it and to your seed. And your seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and you shall spread your strength westward and eastward and northward and southward. Through you shall be blessed all the families of the earth and through your seed. Behold, I am with you, and I will guard you wherever you go, and I will restore you to this land, for I will not forsake you...
A long time ago in ancient Alexandria, Egypt, there lived a very old man. Rabbi Eleazar once met him as he was traveling through Alexandria nearly two thousand years ago. The old man peered at Rabbi Eleazar in the dusty marketplace. Rabbi Eleazar felt the gaze of the wizened one upon him. He turned. Shalom Alecha, “May you know peace,” Eleazar greeted him.
"Come," was the only word the old man uttered as he turned into a hovel. Time stopped on the street. All sounds ceased. Eleazar followed him into the darkened room.
The old man told him, "I have a great tradition, a secret,” he began. "You know the ancient tale: The great Lord God told Jacob that he would be blessed. He told Jacob that he would never be alone and that his children would inherit the riches of the land.”
The old man, turning to Rabbi Eleazar, asked, "And did Jacob question him? Did Jacob balk, eve for a moment? Did he think he was delusional? Did the patriarch ask for proof?
"No. This is the true greatness of the man Jacob. He was a man of faith."
Excerpted from Sanhedrin 111a

Torah text:
Verses 17-18 …He said, "How awesome is this place! …. Jacob arose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had placed at his head, and he set it up as a monument, and he poured oil on top of it.
A dedicated rock? A monument to God on a mountain-top? Jacob consecrated a rock because he had a fantastic dream at that place?
The rabbis of the Talmud gave that rock a name. They called it Even Shteyia or "The Foundation Stone." The Even Shteyia was not just a rock; is was the navel of the world. Like all births, the world had a seed, a starting point.
At the start of Creation, God placed this rock in the midst of the boundless swirling waters. From this one rock grew tentacles, great arms of earth that moved and spread across the globe until whole continents rose out of the depths.
The Even Shetyia remains the center of the world. It is the foundation which began and continues to hold up our universe. Just as all eyes focus on Israel, holiness emanates from Jerusalem from the midst of the land. In Jerusalem, we focus our gaze on Mount Moriah where the Holy Temple once stood. When at the Temple, the soul turns towards the Even Shetiyia.
From this stone pulsed the Power that Jacob saw as he lay his head down. Where Jacob placed his head keyed into the sustaining power of the universe.
The soul knows and years to be connected with the One. While our physical senses are often distracted, our soul always searches for and recognizes the truth. The breath of life continues to search fro its source. The greatest, most sublime joy happens when we bend of physical will to our purest soulful voice. When we listen to our soul we are most alive.

The Alchemy of Perfection

2007-11-06T14:31:00.000-08:00

And the Lord said to her, “Two nations are in your womb.” Rav Judah noted, quoting his teacher Rav, the word is not nations (goyim) but overwhelming powerful leaders (gayim).1

In the aftermath of the Great Flood, the few survivors began to venture out and repopulate the world. Essentially, they were no different than the first dyad of the universe, Adam and Eve. Noah and his family were the new founders of the human race. The world needed to be re-seeded and this time goodness must prevail over evil.

However, there were differences between this first family and Adam and Eve. The Garden was gone. Expelled from a world of perfection, Noah and family had only a dim memory of that place. For them Eden was only a distant story. Also now present in the world were consequences of actions. The world was obliterated because of its propensity towards evil. Cain was marked and shunned because of his vicious act of murder. And the final and ultimate change in the universe was the proximity of God to His children. Gone were the days of the close watchful eye of the Shechina over the world. God was more distant.

While the unfolding story of Genesis sounds bleak (after all, if people failed the test of Eden, what chance does humanity have?) there is a subtext, a quiet almost unnoticeable tale, being woven between the pages of the holy Torah. This subtext first makes its first appearance at the conclusion of the story of Noah. There, our attention is gently directed to one of the sons of Noah, Shem. In chapter ten, the wording describing his life is significant. Firstly, the line of Shem is motioned twice. Secondly, the words used to describe Shem and his lineage arrests the searching mind. There is something here.

Shem, together with his great-grandson Ever, began to look at the universe differently than anyone had seen it before. They studied. They argued. Shem and Ever founded an Academy, a Yeshiva, where Torah became the key Text. Torah? Where is the Torah? Of course, Mt. Sinai had not happened! How could there a Torah to study?

It had always been waiting to be discovered. The implicit Torah is first revealed in the early chapters of Genesis when God differentiates two types of animals on the Ark, pure and impure. More is revealed when the Holy One gives seven commandments to the fledgling civilization, survivors of the Flood. 2 Piecing these fragments together, Shem and Ever began to realize that not only was there a God but a design as well. How could it be otherwise? they reasoned. Every idea starts with a sketch. Every building needs a plan as well as an architect. Torah is the blueprint of the world, the underpinning of all that exists.

Quietly they spent their time in Canaan studying Torah and developing a deep understanding as men of God. They invited students into the universe of the Divine. Bringing them great light, Shem and Ever coursed an unerring path to God. While the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever continued its process of deliberate and careful study, Abraham began to discern the meaning of God in distant Babylonia.

As Abraham traveled, he opened his tents with a dual purpose. His generosity of spirit compelled the patriarch toward tzedaka. The Midrash tells his tent was open from all fours sides so that Abraham could spot a traveler from a long distance from any direction. He would then rush to invite them to his home. Simultaneously, the Patriarch had another purpose in mind. Abraham would take the opportunity to educate the idolatrous masses. Abraham used his considerable wisdom to teach the people of the land the meaning and purpose of life. Revealing to his visitors the breadth of a universe with God as its Creator, Abraham opened eyes and unblocked souls wherever he drove his tent pegs into the earth. That is why the Torah mentions that when it was time to leave for Canaan Abraham and Sarah took “all the souls they had made in Haran.” 3

Time brought new life and different responsibilities. With the birth of his son, Isaac, Abraham began to educate his offspring by example. He taught him how to behave, what to do and how to find God. It was not enough, though. A father can do only so much. Even Abraham.

Isaac was thirty-seven years old. Sarah became acutely aware of the great need for their son to learn more Torah. Abraham and Sarah both saw their limitations; it was time send Isaac away. The experience of learning from his peers would also be invaluable for him. They sent Isaac to study at the famous Yeshiva of Shem and Ever. There he rifled through the ancient tomes and refined his character for many years.

Shem, old and wizened, personally taught Isaac having seen in his eyes vast depths. New avenues of the mystic realm were opened up before Isaac. Everything he was taught he kept. Each morsel of knowledge was held fast. An illui, one of the luminaries, Isaac embraced and seemed to almost intuit everything he was taught. The Holy One Himself was moved to bless Isaac. 4 Finally, the son returned home from his studies.
As with all people since the time of Adam, Abraham passed from this plane of the universe. He was mourned by his many students and family. Interred in the resting place he had purchased for Sarah, Shem and Ever came to present the eulogy for Father Abraham. They quietly intoned, “Woe to the generation that has lost its captain.” 5

The wheel revolves: Death was overshadowed by the joy of new life. Isaac bound himself to a woman, Rivkeh. Rivkeh became pregnant. Yet the carrying did not go as it ought to have gone. It was wrong. Terrifying clashes inside of Rivkeh made her shake and fear. Time would not pass quickly enough as every moment caused Rivkeh to suffer. “If this is how it is, how can I go on?” she cried. Remembering what she had heard from her husband countless times before, Rivkeh went to “inquire of God.” Where would she go to find the answers she needed but to the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever? A renowned prophet, Shem would direct Rivkeh. He would tell her what to do. 6

She told the venerable tzaddik, ‘On the way here I passed an idolatrous temple and one of my children pushed hard to make his way through the birth canal. Now that I am here in your Yeshiva the other is moving to come out!’

Shem nodded. He then deciphered the internal agony of Rivkeh: “Two nations are in your womb.”

Isaac was not Abraham. Abraham had hundreds of students throughout his long life. Isaac had only one: Jacob. 7 When Shem pronounced the prophecy over Rivkeh’s feuding unborn children that one would be good and the other evil, Isaac patiently waited watched and listened. Jacob became the sole focus of his father because Isaac had learned something invaluable in his long years of study at the Yeshiva.

Isaac was not Abraham. The old Patriarch was expansive. Abraham reached out toward everyone. He was intent on turning the world toward goodness. He was a powerful force for monotheism. Abraham used all his energy to change the world. Isaac knew it was folly. Redemption begins with only one, he thought. The birth of twins was no accident. It was a deliberate separation of the tangled and confused mass of Cain and Abel, Abraham and Lot, and now Jacob and Esau. The intertwining of good and evil must be broken, Isaac believed. First, I must weed out the dangerous, most invidious side of humanity. In Jacob, will be found all that is good, noble and right. He will forever be the righteous warrior against the forces of evil in the world.

And the Lord said to her, “Two nations are in your womb.” Rav Judah noted, quoting his teacher Rav, the word is not nations (goyim) but overwhelming powerful leaders (gayim).

1 Avodah Zarah 11a
2 Genesis 9:1-17
3 Genesis 12:5
4 Genesis 25:11
5 Baba Batra 5
6 Rashi
7 Rambam, Avodah Zarah Rambam 1:2

A Life Lived

2007-10-31T19:19:00.000-07:00

The life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years. Genesis 23:1.

Painstakingly, the Torah details segments of Sarah’s lifetime. Here, the words are repetitive and unnecessary. They do not gently pass through the narrative. Instead the words arrest our vision. They are clunky and dissonant. Yet we are taught that nothing is redundant in the Torah. No word is extraneous, chide the ancient voices. Why then does the holy Torah use its precious space to ploddingly delineate the lifetime of Sarah, our Mother? It does need to repeat the word years after every number. Any reader would know that the cumulative lifetime spanned one hundred twenty-seven years, without those additional words.

Idea: Each part of our life is a stepping-stone to reach upwards toward a new level. Sarah’s life is demarcated into three segments, each representing a distinct phase of her life. At one hundred years of age, tell the Sages, Sarah was as sinless as a young woman. 1 What happened during those many decades? Sarah strove not to become jaded or bitter. Everyone’s life is full of disappointments. People let us down. They betray us. We are victimized. Only the most resolute character can maintain the discipline to remain positive. Sarah incessantly worked to maintain her hopeful outlook despite the ravages of decades.

At twenty years old, Sarah was as wide-eyed and beautiful as a child of seven. Nothing deterred this matriarch from being full of awe at a world brimming with miraculousness. While most people become tired of sunsets, flowers in full bloom, love given and received, birth and death; Sarah remained full of awe at the spectacle of the universe.

Sarah’s beauty was never diminished by the blights of sadness, depression or despair.

Musar: At all costs, we must never abandon our hope, trust and optimism. It easy to be psychically marred by the bad things that happen to us. We are betrayed. We are assaulted. Our character is defamed. To become cynical in the face of such onslaughts is a natural reflexive action. Do not do this, warns mother Sarah. Remember who you are at your core: a pure soul.

Idea: —all of them [each year of Sarah’s life] full and perfect. 2 That is why the Torah states; The life of Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years … the Torah subtly indicates that Sarah lived every day of her life. Time was not wasted on self-pity, abuse or wantonly killing time. Instead, she lived every moment of her one hundred twenty-seven years.
Musar Talmud teaches, "one can acquire his universe" — the world-to-come — or destroy it "in a single moment." 3
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From earliest times, it is a great mitzvah (commandment) to comfort mourners. The first seeds of the practices of mourning are found here. Why is comforting mourners such a great mitzvah? Rules and practices of how to grieve and how to treat the bereft fill many heavy volumes. When there are so many demands in life, why does tradition place such a premium on mourning?
Is it not obvious?

Part of our life is excised when someone we love dies. There will be no more kisses or caresses. No more conspiratorial meetings or happenstance encounters at the refrigerator. No more birthdays will be celebrated. No more blessings given. How could the yanking of a life-soul be anything but painful?

Sarah died. According to the Midrash, Abraham looked around and saw distraught looks on the faces surrounding him. He looked at their unmasked pain and felt the overwhelming raw abandonment everywhere. He saw their tears and watched as they ground their hands helplessly into one another. Isaac dissolved into tears and cried out, “My mother, my mother! Why have you left me?” 4 Servants gathered about and ripped their clothes as they fell to the ground weeping. So, Abraham went to console them. Abraham? The bereft was comforting everyone else? How did this cruel inversion happen?

When we finish studying a holy text, we say Tam v’nishlam…” All is whole and complete now.” Long ago the book was written but it is only complete when it has been read and finished. Only then is the book tam, whole. Afterward, we return the volume to its place on the shelf. It is truly finished. Is this a cause for celebration or sadness? You can argue that it is an unhappy event to finish a good book. Once it is over, what becomes of the yearning in the dark night to find out what happens next? The desire to grasp the book that held our attention and pursue us to lose sleep is gone. Now that it is over, are we sad? Or perhaps having become enriched by the experience of the book we rejoice.

In a Jewish frame of mind, we celebrate our immersion and successful conclusion of the volume. We read. We analyze. We fulfilled the terms of the author; the words were animated by our connection with them. In some sense, Tam v’nishlam, we and it, are whole and complete. So it is with Sarah, our Mother. Having lived a full and rich life she returns to the resting place of Adam and Eve, Makhpelah. She is whole. Soon afterward Sarah will be joined by Abraham.

In the meanwhile, Abraham knows his separation from Sarah is temporal. He is old and will soon regain the companionship of his life. Tam v’nishlam. That is why the Patriarch can comfort the others. Abraham knows the truth. He knows that eternity has clasped his beloved and soon he will come to the banquet table of the Almighty too. Tam v’nishlam.
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Hebron is the place where Sarah, our Mother, died and was interred. The transaction for Makhpelah between Ephron and Abraham is bizarre. Ephron kindly offers the land to Abraham free. It is a grandiose and magnanimous offering to Abraham. Yet, the Patriarch refused. Why? Translating the exorbitant price Abraham ultimately gave Ephron into today’s currency, he paid millions of dollars for the Cave of Makhpelah. Perhaps we understand why Abraham refused to take the land as a gift but paying such an extraordinary lot of money?

Kabbalah illumines why Ephron was so willing to part with the property. The Zohar declares that Ephron believed the Cave of Makhpelah he was selling to the new immigrant was a worthless, dank black hole. 5 What was father Abraham able to discern about the true nature of the Cave of Makhpelah? And, why did he see it when Ephron saw nothing but blankness?

Rebbe Nachman observed that when a person lives a virtuous life, seeks opportunities to do God’s Will, fulfils mitzvot and acts with kindness a change occurs. The inner soul-voice becomes pronounced and strong as it is allowed to speak and be heard. Its ability to be the eyes which perceive and interpret is the catalyst for greatest wisdom. Such a person begins to see the true nature of all things. That is why Abraham saw what others – including Ephron – could not. Noble living allowed Abraham to see the great supernal light hiding in the darkness.

There is a gifted and innate connection between the Jewish people and Israel. The holy Torah opens up with a question posed by Rashi: why does the Torah bother to begin with Bereshit? What does the book of Genesis contribute to our connection to God and the Torah? All the book seemingly does is provide an awareness of the chain of generations that spanned the Beginning until the descent to Egypt. Rashi reveals that its task is to declare the Godly nexus with the Land. In other words, all the tales lead to the covenant between the Abrahamic line, God and Israel. The Land of Israel is the eternal inheritance of the Jewish people, equally the property of every individual Jew. This is what Abraham saw and why no amount of money was too much for the cave of Makhpelah.

At the same time, said the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Schneerson, the purchase by Abraham was the fulfillment of Rashi’s rationale for the existence of entire book of Genesis: Makhpelah was the moment when the Jews took ownership of the Holy Land. The Cave of Makhpelah would become each generation’s share in Israel.

1 Bereshit. Rabbah 58:1
2 Ibid.
3 Avodah Zarah 18a
4 Ginsberg, Legends of the Jews, vol 1.
5 I, 127b

You Can Tell the Love for the Trees

2007-10-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

The reaction of primordial man to the Tree of the Garden in Eden altered the trajectory of humankind. One tree changed the world. Could it still be exerting power over us?
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When Abraham greeted the weary, dust covered strangers at his tent he invited them to sit under leafy branches and rest. Under the shade of this one lone desert tree, Abraham would use his wisdom to introduce the concept of one God to them. 1 Seating travelers under this tree held a dual opportunity for Abraham; it enabled him to at once to perform the mitzvah of feeding the hungry while teaching the Torah of the universe to idolaters. The strangers sat and washed while Abraham opened his heart and began to unfold the truth of the One God to passersby. Then, he and Sarah fed them.

A question. Could the way we interact with the world (trees by example) be a clue to a person’s inner goodness? Is the Torah intentional when drawing our focus to the mention of this tree two times? Might the seeming innocuous meeting at the tree be an indication of something greater?
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Tales meet, separate, intertwine and then re-group throughout the book of Genesis. We meet the same characters repeatedly. They appear, seemingly blend into the desert landscape, only to reappear some time later. At each meeting, we understand a bit more of their character and watch as they grow and mature. Two principal characters in this week's parasha are Abraham and Lot, uncle and nephew. We first met the couple in last week's parasha. There we read:
Avram went up from Egypt with his wife and all his possessions - and Lot was with him - from the south. As Lot went with Avram he had his flocks, cattle and tents." Genesis 13:1-5

Lot traveled with his uncle Abraham not only from the ancestral home of Ur but even on his trek to Egypt to escape the terrible famine pinching Canaan. The two men must have shared many experiences and a special kinship through their years together. Having endured starvation, hardship and terrible danger there is little doubt that Abraham and Lot were close. As an extended and connected family they returned to the promised land of Canaan much richer.
However, the Text next informs us that the land could not support them both. The accumulated possessions of Abraham and Lot were too many and their needs were too great. They could not live together. Fighting broke began between the herdsmen of Abraham and of Lot. They argued over the scare water supply and the prime pastures. They fought about whose flocks took precedence. The frequency and intensity of the conflicts escalated.
Is this the curse of affluence? Must life always singed and marred by jealousy? They were happy when they were impoverished; when the relatives banded together for security. And now? Why could this family not remain intact and unified now?

"When love was great we could have made our home on the edge of a blade," says the Talmud. "When our love faltered the whole world was not great enough to hold us." 2

The quarrels continued. Is this surprising? It started with the employees of Lot and Abraham and swiftly worsened. A question: is it possible for the shepherds, the hirelings of Abraham and Lot, to fight without the tacit approval of their employers? Had Abraham and Lot demanded that their hired hands stop the feuding they would have stopped. A word from their masters and all would have been well. Perhaps that is why Abraham then turned to his nephew and cried:
I beg of you, let there be no hatred between us and between our herdsmen. After all, we are brothers! All this land lies before you. Choose the parcel that you like the best. If you move to the right, I will go the left. If you choose the left, I will make my home on the right. Genesis 8-9
Abraham desperately wanted to control the dark downward spiral of enmity between him and Lot. He was distraught. In a magnanimous gesture of goodwill, he told his nephew to choose whatever section of land he desires. Perhaps, reasons Abraham, Lot might learn how not to be greedy as he became more secure with his wealth. ‘Perhaps when there is no competition between us, Lot will release his anger.’
Lot quickly made his decision. In the division of land, Lot chose the verdant area that encompassed the wicked city of Sodom. Why would Lot choose to live in midst of such evil? How could he? Did he not learn goodness from his uncle? Was he not paying attention? How could he make such a mistake?
Abraham’s trust in his nephew is reasonable. After all, Lot is a basically good man. He had watched and learned from his uncle. Lot lived his whole life with Abraham; he consistently witnessed great acts of kindness. Lot observed how Abraham acted. Abraham was ever diligent in his desire to welcome in strangers. Countless times Lot watched and learned from his uncle.
Lot watched and learned as Abraham invited guests into home. Even when feverish and ill, Abraham looked for opportunities to be kind to strangers. God was so pleased and protective of him that He rewarded Abraham with the ultimate kindness: The Holy One visited Abraham while the aging patriarch was in pain.
Another example of Abraham’s hospitality was when Abraham planted an eshel in Beersheba Genesis 21:33.
An eshel?
Modern day scholars conjecture that the eshel was simply an old term for a tamarisk tree. It would feed future generations. Other more ancient sources believe that Abraham planted a whole orchard to cover the land and produce fruit for generations to-come thus feeding the hungry. Perhaps wanting to do such an undetermined kindness, Abraham planted such an orchard. Other sages say that the eshel was actually an inn where travelers could stop, eat and rest. If this understanding is true then Abraham expanded his idea of the tree that greeted the strangers to a much larger level. These wise men tell that the word eshel is not a tree at all. Eshel is an acronym for eating, drinking and keeping company. 3
He did learn from Uncle Abraham. Lot became skilled at the mitzvah of hachnassat orchim, welcoming travelers. Lot freely invited guests into his home. In fact, Lot absorbed the lesson so well that he endangered himself and his family to perform the deed of hachnassat orchim. The people of Sodom threatened to destroy him because of his willingness to be kind to visitors. Against all mores of Sodom, Lot remembered the lessons of his youth. Lot defended the strangers against the pooling violent crowd threatening violence at his door.
Yet, underneath the outer veneer of hospitality towards the stranger lay a greedy kernel at his core. In his heart, Lot was selfish. Earlier, Lot showed his insatiable desire for more in the episode with the shepherds. He was even willing to turn a cold eye to his beloved uncle for the sake of wealth. Lot then displayed his lack of concern for where he lived by choosing Sodom as his home. Once again Lot showed his skewed morality by offering his daughters to the Sodomites for their pleasure. About the only parcel of morality in Lot’s life that was learned in his uncle’s home was kindness to strangers.

A final tale from the Talmud:
Rabbi Nachman asked Rabbi Yitzchak to bless him.
Rabbi Yitzhak thought. “I can only tell you a parable. A man was traveling through the desert. Tired and thirsty, he came to an oasis. There was a fruit tree drooping under the weight of the luscious gifts it bore. Beside the tree was a gurgling stream. The traveler ate the fruit, drank the water and rested in the shade of the tree. He rose to go. Before he left the oasis he wanted to bless this tree.
‘Tree, how can I bless you? I could bless you for sweet fruit. What use would that be? You are already sweet. 'I cannot bless you with shade. You already have it.
'I cannot bless you with a stream of water, for you already have one. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that all the shoots and tendrils that come from you, be just like you.’
“So is it with you, my friend Nachman,” said Yitzchak. “You have Torah, wealth and are blessed with children. All I can say is, may it be the Will of the Almighty that your progeny be just like you.” 4

Perhaps the Tree of the Garden would continue to prove a blessing or curse. Humanity, throughout the epochs, would always make choices between good and evil in every matter. The Supernal Tree of Life hopes that we will sit in its shade and choose goodness.
May we be worthy of Nachman’s blessing.

1 Meam Loez
2 Sanhedrin 7a
3 Rashi on Sota 10a
4 Taanit 5b

"Go," came the word. "But where do I go?"

2007-10-17T08:26:00.000-07:00

It is unnecessary. Utterly redundant. That is one reason why the words are so striking.

The Torah parses out its language sparingly. It uses no extraneous space or words. Each word seems carefully selected after much thought and only what is absolutely necessary remains. What we read are only the barest of facts that tell – or better imply – greatness. Our task is to read the nuances of the words and decipher what is unspoken: the hidden meaning of the Text.

The introductory words to the Parasaha, Lech lecha, stand out because of they are superfluous. Lech means “you go”. That is why lecha does not make sense. It is a useless redundancy. Lecha means ‘you.’ If we were to translate the phrase literally, it would mean “You. You go.”

The great Sages of the past have taught us to look closely at anomalies. They beg us to peer more closely to the inner kernel of meaning inside every phrase, each word. When the holy Writ wants us to pay attention it throws out a buoy that is intended to catch our eye and make us think.

To grasp the import of this phrase they softly whisper, “Do not read it as ‘you go…’ Instead, read the phrase as “You go (Lech) into yourself (lecha). In other words, this story is not so much about Avram’s physical journey from his homeland to Canaan as much as a leap on consciousness. God is asking Avram, the ultimate progenitor of the Jewish nation, to make an internal journey and find a treasure that is of incalculable worth. It will change history.

“Said Rabbi Yitshak: Four things can change a person’s destiny. They are tzedaka, an anguished soulful cry, a change of name and a change of behavior.” Yalkut Shimoni 12.

Each of these actions cause a dramatic alteration of the person. Any one of them is enough to alter the course of a life. For Avram, all four events would crystallize and culminate in a life that would transfix the world. In stages that begin now, Avram begins to embrace each of these significant changes. They all begin here in the third parasha of Genesis.

Each catalyst for change commences with an internal decision to travel deep within the Self, penetrating thick layers of resistance. True tzedaka is a conscious decision to live a righteous life. A searing cry that emanates from the soul is also the first step on a new path of life. A change of name or character is likewise a shifting of one’s inner life. What would spur someone to abandon everything familiar and venture out into a territory that is utterly unfamiliar? What would cause a person to undertake such a dramatic journey?

Rabbi Yitshak once again comes to our aid. A traveler passed his days moving from place to place. One day he sighted a far-off palace in flames. The man approached, looked at the conflagration and wondered aloud, ‘Where is the master of this palace? Is it possible that it has no owner?’
Before another moment passed a voice answered him, “I am the master of this palace.”

Avram asked, ‘Is it possible for this world to exist without a Master? Can it be that this universe has no Guide?’ That is when the Holy One, blessed be He, looked upon Avram and said, “I am the Master of the universe.”

Just before the tale of Lech lecha began we read the tale of the Tower of Babel. One story leads into the next. Is it possible that Avram witnessed this event? Could he have possibly seen the massive structure being erected? Could Avram have watched as the Tower came to an abrupt end? Could Avram have watched immobilized as masses of people were suddenly incapable of communication?

A midrash called Baraita Seder Olam Rabba connects the turning point of the Tower of Babel to Avram’s sudden understanding of the God of the universe. Just as the earlier midrash of Rabbi Yitshak pictured a flaming palace to be followed by Avram questioning of Master of all, could it be that Avram was a witness to Babel? Could that have been the moment of Avram’s enlightenment? ?” When he saw the massive abandoned Tower Avram extrapolated that just as the Tower had a purpose, a design, an architect and an owner so too most the universe have a greater plan.

Then Avram began to go more deeply into himself. “Is this it?” the nascent sage might have wondered. “Is this what our life is all about? We are supposed to build castles up to the sky? For what purpose? Is there nothing grander, mightier, more powerful than the work of our hands that were used to storm heaven?” he sobbed.

The awakening had begun.

That is when the Holy One answered the yearning heart of Avram. “I am the Master of this Universe,” He said. “I am He.”

Only after Avram let loose his piercing cry was Avram told, “Lech lecha,” “Go into your self.” There you will find all the answers that you need. The truth will become evident.

Rabbi Mordecai Yosef interprets Lech lecha as Avram "struggling (or raging like a massive storm) inside," of himself. Avram was in the process of transformation, of great growth. The soulful birth of Avraham was about to emerge from its husk. Perhaps our journey begins the same way.

Noah's Vineyard

2007-10-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

“Noah was an absolute Tzaddik in his time.” Genesis 6:9

Rising high above his contemporaries Noah was intent on listening for the Word of God. He hungered to touch the Divine and yearned for a moment of devekute, a holy encounter with the One. While a world grew despoiled from ongoing senseless acts of carnage, Noah kept his vision focused on God.
Perhaps that is why the first act Noah did when his boat struck earth was to plant a vineyard. Lovingly planting the tiny seeds and guarding its steady growth Noah wanted to please the Master. When the vines were heavy with their thick fruit, Noah squeezed the elixir from the grapes. He drank. Noah became intoxicated. That is when the Holy text says, “Noah profaned himself.” Genesis 9:20 Drunk, spewing vomit, Noah the Tzaddik lolled about in his own filth inside his tent.
What do we learn from the Torah? That even tzaddidim can veer from the course of righteousness? Is this the message? When we finish reading the terrible ending of the Flood we wonder: what is the moral of the tale? Could it be a simple lesson in the fallibility being made from flesh and blood? Prone to sin? That we are not made of holier stuff?
אּ
Just prior to the great Flood a humble and perfect man, Hanokh, was wrested from the physical universe. The youngest of all the people enumerated in the long list of generations stretching from Adam to Noah, Hanokh was gripped by God and “walked with God.” Hanokh was the youngest of all the generations to die. Genesis 5:23
The French medievalist scholar, Rashi, pondered this question. Why did Hanokh die prematurely? Rashi suggested that perhaps Hanokh was too perfect to be a victim of the Flood. He was pure and blameless; the only member of an entire society to be whole. That is why just before the waters began their deathly rise the Lord snatched up Hanokh and brought him to heaven. Hanokh did not live to see the utter destruction of humanity. He was saved. This was God’s gift to Hanokh, explained Rashi.
Yet, a doubt lingers….if Hanokh was so righteous why did not God place him on Noah’s vessel? His life would have been spared. He could have been a survivor and not a victim. Hanokh would have then received the ultimate reward to being the progenitor of the new human race. Is survival not the greatest reward for righteousness?
Again, Rashi provides a shaft of light illuminating this enigmatic figure. Hanokh, states Rashi, was withdrawn from the world before his time because he may have been persuaded towards the evil side. Hanokh’s kindness was also his vulnerability.
Hanokh was a cobbler, a shoemaker. According to midrash he was focused on repairing shoes and helping repair broken souls. Hanokh was a content man free of sin, free from distraction. Yet, intimates the midrash, when the oncoming disturbances from the rampant evil began to enter into his ears and penetrate his soul, God withdrew his perfect servant from the world. The danger of contamination was too great. Hanokh did not survive the Flood because he was too pristine, too pure. He would have lost his soul in the process.
This returns us to Noah who began his life similar to Hanokh. Noah was a tzaddik, like Hanokh. Unlike his ancestor, Noah was not as prone to influence from his friends, neighbors and society. In that sense, Noah was a more trustworthy candidate to start the human race once again. Indeed, Noah follows God’s direction to their absolute end. With unerring devotion, Noah heeds the commands from Above and commences the process of building an Ark. Ignoring the corruption all around him Noah set his mind to the task of following God.
אּ
At the end of it all, we are still confronted with the awful reality of Noah’s stupor and shame. Noah’s moral stamina may have been stronger than Hanokh’s but he still ended up in a mess. Is this the end of a tzaddik? The story of individual honor and reliance against evil concludes with a man lying naked in puddles of vomit? The one chosen to be the new Adam of the reborn universe starts the journey of a new civilization by profaning himself?
Remember what Noah planted: a vineyard. Why grapes? There is a virtually endless list of crops Noah could have planted instead of a vineyard. Think of the possibilities: there are pears, melons, barley, bananas, lettuce, eggplant, wheat….
Why wouldn’t a tzaddik plant grapes in the new world? After all, doesn’t he need to make a Kiddush? Doesn’t a tzaddik want to make a l’hayim to his Maker? A true tzaddik would want to praise and bless God as the first Shabbat approached. According to tradition, there is only one way to do this; Noah needed wine.
אּ
Make no mistake: the forbidden fruit of the Garden could have been many things. It most certainly was not an apple. One strong opinion holds that it was a grape. At once, the fruit of the vine held promise of true knowledge of the world and hint of evil. It opened up new vistas for the first humans.
Remember too, that the one that enticed the woman was the feared nahash, the Evil One. Sforno, a fifteenth century Italian sage, reveals to us that the nahash was not merely a snake but the embodiment of the great tempter, the Evil One himself. The Evil One, tells Sforno, reached into the dark subconscious minds of primordial man and coaxed them toward the darkness while pretending it was light.
אּ
The advantage that Noah had over Adam and Eve was that Noah knew that grapes were necessary to hallow God. They may have been the gateway out of Eden but they were still the gateway that led back. With fervency, Noah clamored out of the Ark and swiftly moved to sanctify the Holy One’s name immediately. What Noah did not know was that the Evil One had permanently perverted the potential of the grapes. The grapes were holy when only used to sanctify God’s name. Used for any other purpose, including excess, and the Evil One comes to claim the owner for himself.

Holiness is being aware and awake. It means being conscious of the choices we make and the path that we tread. Good and evil are different sides of the same coin. They are not different coins. It is critical to be ever aware of our words, gestures and even prayers.
The Evil One approaches when we become self-absorbed. With a gentle whisper, he brings us the shadowy world that is the other half of existence.
In the meanwhile, we have all the tools necessary to wend our way back towards the Garden. Accessing holiness is being open, joyful and devoted to the Holy One. The lesson of Noah? Even a tzaddik can go astray.

The Holiest Eight

2007-09-30T15:07:00.000-07:00

Sukkot concludes with a connected and, at the same time, disconnected Holy Day. We peer over the set table to the One who is everpresent:

A long time ago, Rabbi Simon the Righteous revealed, ‘King David used to sling his harp above his bed. There it would hang suspended as David left for the world of dreams. Every night a north wind would gently caress the strings of the graceful harp. Gently the thrumming woke David from his slumber. In the still darkness of Jerusalem, David anticipated the task ahead. Immediately he would gather his heavy tomes and begin to study the holy words of the Torah.’1
Now inspired, David approached his table. Uncorking the ink and taking up his reed David set down his powerful and timeless words. Their inspiration has stirred readers through centuries that have stretched into millennia. The pious have found hope in those one hundred fifty poems. The afflicted have recovered broken parts of their souls. Celebrants have found reason to dance and laugh. The shunned have found an understanding heart.
Tehilim, Psalms, is the record of David’s midnight ruminations on God and Torah.
Each psalm is a poem requiring thoughtful reading and consideration. It s not always clear at first the actual goal of any particular psalm. Sometimes David seems to be speaking of his earlier life experiences. At times he is the voice for Moses, our teacher. In yet other places, David seems to know what lies in our heart and pierces it with his incisive words. While there are times when his exuberance for God is so great that it is difficult to key into the depth of his feelings; other times David is the voice of our soul.
It is believed that King David wrote a single chapter in his Psalms devoted to the brit milah, the covenant of the flesh that began with Abraham, our father. While there is little disagreement that David wrote a chapter about the covenant there is much discussion about which psalm is the one as none of them make overt mention of the brit milah.
Some believe the chapter of the covenant is actually the twelfth psalm. They base their claim on the introduction where David wrote, “An ode for the victorious on the Eighth, a psalm by David.” The brit milah takes place on the eighth day after birth. Would not this would be the allusion to the covenant? What else could the “Eighth” be if not the brit? Yet there is a larger problem with this: no other mention is made of the brit milah throughout this entire psalm.
Perhaps, suggests sage Rabbi Eliahu Gutmacher, the reference lies in the sixth chapter, not the twelfth. The sixth psalm opens with the words, “For the victorious one who plays the song on the Eighth.” We sing songs and praises when the brit milah is performed as another Jew comes into the holy covenant. Could this Psalm be the one because mentions the word 'song'?
What does the number ‘eight’ signify? It is the first day of humanity’s earthly existence. Remember that the seventh day is the Shabbat. That too was a creation of the Holy One. Shabbat is volitional not passive. Shabbat did not occur because God’s creative processes had stopped. On the contrary, the Shabbat was the final act of the One. The Shabbat was as much a creation as the moon.
Not until the first Shabbat ends is man on his own. Until then the process of creation have continued seamlessly. From the swirling chaotic mass of the cosmos to the seas teeming with life to the act of the Seventh Day, God has endeavored to craft both time and space. Eight is then when life stands of its own accord outside the borders of God's Creation. The eighth day after Creation is really the first day of humanity. The day of the brit milah, the eighth day after a life has been born, is likewise the first day of its Jewish life. Mimicking the seven days of Creation, the newborn waits for its moment which arrives on the morrow.
Shmini Atzeret, the least well-known of all the holy days, also arrives after a full week of celebration of the connective holy day, Sukkot. After seven days of singing Hallel; sitting, eating and rejoicing under the sun and stars in the Sukkah; shaking the four species, we conclude our Festival. Now, like the eighth day after Creation we are bereft of the guiding arm of the mitzvot of Sukkot. There is no waving of the etrog and lulav. There are no more blessings in the Sukkah. We are done. It is complete.
There is only a single moment – this Shmini Atzeret --before we reclaim our lives and move on. Where do we go? How do we proceed? That is the likeness to the eighth day after the Creation: we now choose our path. All the structure and practices of Rosh Hashanna, Yom Kippur and Sukkot come to a crashing halt. We choose like Adam and Eve emerging from Eden on the eighth day.
Perhaps the missing psalm of David is a paean to Shmini Atzeret. Could the most hidden of all the psalms be the one that challenges us to start over? A new beginning? Might the last of the holy days be a gift where we can put into place all the sorrows, vows and tears of the previous month? The ultimate new start.

1 Berachot 3b

Living Now

2007-09-25T00:28:00.000-07:00

The Rebbe of Ropfchitz gathered his followers together. "Let me tell you a holy tale," he began.

"The Czar was once riding in a long procession. On one side of the Czar were the high walls of a fortress. On the other side were the poor people massed beside the road to watch the colorful parade of soliders passing by. They clapped and cheered.
No one knew that behind one of the slits on the high wall was an assassin waiting for an opportunity to kill the Russian leader.
One of the alert soliders of the Czar saw the glint of the steel arrowhead jutting out from the wall. Not knowing how to stop the arrow he shouted as loud as he could. The sudden and fearful voice made the Czar's horse rear. Just then the arrow came down like a blur and landed just inches from where the Czar stood one moment before.
Seeing how the brave solider had acted to save his life the Czar summoned the man to stand before him.
"You have saved my life," he said. "What can I do for you? How can I reward you?"
"Well," thought the solider. "Our sergeant is a mean-spisitred man. He abuses us. He hits and curses us all the time. Can I be transferred out of his regiment?"
"Is that what you want?" asked the Czar.
"Yes. That is all," he replied meekly.

"Do not be afraid," Rebbe of Ropfchitz told his acolytes. "Do not fear to speak before God. Imagine if the young solider had asked to be made a general himself. Perhaps he could have asked the Czar for great riches. Instead, all he asked was for a simple reprieve.
"Speak with God and do not be ashamed to ask. The fate of the universe might rest on your shoulders."

Sukkah: The Meeting Place for God

2007-09-24T19:23:00.000-07:00

Having lifted the kiddush cup, blown the shofar, davenned, fasted and cried we come to the intimate time of resting in God's delightful shade. The Festival of Sukkot commences shortly. A look at some of what it brings:

“I saw the Lord,” states the prophet. 1

Throughout the long epochs and covering the globe, the goal of every God-fearing Jew has been the same; to peer at the Infinite One. Songs of yearning reach upward from the Shabbat table every week as we loftily sing of the possibility to connecting with God. Prayers reverberate throughout yeshiva study halls and shuls as Jews try to will the event into being. The longing to be touched by the Holy One is so compelling that we even celebrate those who were blessed with many opportunities to see God in their lifetimes.

On the Festival of Sukkot we welcome the dead into our ramshackle huts. Through successive evenings they come. The first to arrive is Abraham, then Isaac is welcomed, then comes Jacob, Moses, Aaron, Joseph and finally David. According to the mystic work, Zohar 2 each of these ancient ones are invited to each Sukka to bless the waiting people in them. We even recite an Aramaic formula begging the long dead to grace our table. We wait for their approach the same way as when we placed Elijah’s cup at the center of our tables at the seder and watched for his arrival.

We want their blessing because of who they were; namely people who were close to God. From the first to the last guest, each figure had an intimate relationship with God. Giving them a special designation, Ushpizin, we hunger for them to accept our invitation. Even more, we cling to the hope that part of their holy encounter will be left at our table. Perhaps a fragment, even a crumb, of their connection with the One will fall in our Sukkah and so come to us.

One of the Hasidic masters, Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Kotsk, was told of another tzadik who said that he sees all seven Ushpizin in his sukkah each year. “They come to visit me each night. It is so holy.”
Menahem Mendel could only sigh. Lifting up his eyes, he remarked: "I myself don't see them, but I nevertheless believe that our sages, of blessed memory, had the great gift of witnessing the Ushpizin come to their Sukkah. It is through this faith that I see more than they do with their eyes!"

How did they see God?

“Each of the prophets saw the Holy One, blessed be he, through a smoked glass.” 3 That is they perceived God dimly. God was not distinctly seen by Joseph, David or the others. Only Moses had an unimpeded view of God , through a clear glass. 4 There was no barrier between Moshe Rabbenu and the Lord. That is why the Holy Torah states that Moses had “rays of light” beaming from his face as he descended Mt. Sinai. The encounter left Moses aglow with Divine sparks. No other prophet was so privileged to stand that close to the One. That is why the Talmud speaks of Moses peering at God through a clear lens.

What did Moshe Rabbenu see that left him with such radiance? The Zohar 5 tells that Moses saw what the prophets saw. They all witnessed the Infinite One in His glory. Each felt the tremendous awe of standing in the presence of the Lord God. Where there is a difference is which aspect of God they beheld.

The prophets saw God’s lowest projection into the universe, what is called the Shechina. The Shechina hovered over Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and focused their lives. They felt its command and responded with utter joy. It informed their words, movements and life. The Shechina sated them with power and purpose as it covered every one of the prophets with its light. However, the Shechina is not an absolute view of the Holy One, blessed be He. It is a slightly refracted or dim view of God. That is why the Talmud tells us that all the prophets, with the exception of Moses, looked at God through this clouded or smoked lens.

What about us? We are not so privileged as to get a full view of God’s Teferet, like Moses. We may not even merit the more indistinct view of the Holy One’s Shechina like the other prophets. That is why we sit in our Sukkot on the Festival and welcome in the Ushpizin of long ago. We ask them to attend to our Sukkah. We ask their blessing and we hope they might leave some of the sparks of their holy encounters with the One.

Reb Zusia loved to be the first to arrive at the synagogue each morning. He would rise early and rush to put on his tefillin as dawn came to the world. One day Reb Zusia was late. His students grew uneasy. This was not like their master. Finally, just before noon Reb Zusia staggered in the synagogue. A worried, concerned look was on his face. Finally they prayed.

When the prayers had ended the students approached their master and asked, “Why were you so late this morning, Reb Zusia? What happened?”

Zusia answered, “I will tell you, my students. Remember the prayer, modeh ani, “I will give thanks to You….?” This morning as I began to say the modeh ani I stopped when I came to the word “You.” The thought struck me: what is “I?” And what is the “You?” Who am I? Who am I to address the You of the universe? Who am I to talk to the Craftsman of All?
“I started the prayer again and I was drowning in an infinitesimal speck of nothingness. Who am I? I am nothing to call upon the Holy One, Master of Everything-that-is. I could not go on. I could go no further. It took me the rest of the morning to just get through that prayer.”

We venerate those who have come before us. They leave behind many great gifts. They left us a path to follow. That is why we invite them, the Ushpizin, to join us during Sukkot. Yet, like Zusia and Menahem Mendel perhaps their legacy is rich enough to find the Holy One treading our own path.

1. Isaiah 6:5
2 vol. 3, 103b
3 Taanit 49b
4 Ibid.
5 Zohar 1:120a

Cain, the First Murderer

2007-09-24T11:09:00.001-07:00

Barely does the Torah begin to tell the narrative of life when there is a brutal murder. The reason for the act is not clear. Perhaps it does not matter. In the aftermath of such a deadful deed what is left? One man's physical life is over. Another man's future has been extinguished. Cain is scarred by his own act. What chance does Cain have? What hope can he latch on to? Is there redemption for such a man? Is Cain destined for endless wandering, emptiness and pain?
After the death of brother, Abel, God places a mark upon Cain's forehead. Reb Mordecai asks: "Why did the Holy One place such a mark on Cain? The outward sense of the Torah indicates that the sign was to prevent anyone from killing Cain out of vengeance or righteous indignation. Is this what the Text really means? Did the Holy One have the visible mark placed on Cain prevent more pain from entering the world?"
"No," said the Reb Mordecai.
"The reason for the mark was so that no one would defeat Cain's spirit of hopeful return. No one should say things that would detour Cain while he was intent upon teshuva, repentance."

Eating of the Tree and the Redemption

2007-09-20T18:57:00.000-07:00

They gazed at the Forbidden Tree and were silent. The oppressive quiet that hovered a round the two people betrayed their inner nervousness. Their hearts fiercely beat against the walls of their chest. Inside, they yearned for the light of knowledge. They hungered to know! Excitement and anxiety mounted as they continued to look at the Tree as their ultimate liberation.
The Garden was perfect but, they assumed, there had to be something even greater than this. Why else would the Master have placed it in sight? In the center of the Garden? Why would He even have thought to create it?
There was an unspoken agreement that neither one would touch it because of the Master’s decree. Still, they wanted and watched. The desire grew. Glancing sideways, they wondered who would be the first. Adam played feigned disinterest. Pretending to look elsewhere his mind was fixed on the Tree of Knowledge and the great promise it held. Havvah was more openly curious. And brazen. There would be repercussions. How could there not be? If the Master decreed it should not be touched… But the issue of punishment and blame was further away from the tantalizing prospect of complete understanding.
Adding to the pressure were the words of the serpent. The long, narrow creature knew things that Adam and Havvah did not. He used it to his advantage. The serpent promised untold possibilities if they had the courage to step one foot closer. Then all they had to do was touch it. Then…

The ultimate truth revealed was that the knowledge gained was deceptive. To be sure, it held great promise but that promise was illusory. The civilizations spawned gave rise to great tomes of learning. The eyes of humanity tilted upward and imagined what the distant galaxies must hold.
Ideas became theories that were tested. Those theories proved powerful forces that changed the course of human development. Yet, along with all the inventions and unlimited curiosity came death and emptiness. The great and wisest king Solomon lamented, “All is fleeting. All is vapid and barren.”
Eating from the Tree gave powerful external vision at the expense of internal searching and understanding. The brilliant luminaries of every generation since the expulsion seek to find the hidden Eden.
On Yom Kippur, we gaze inward once again. We force our bodies to bring the mind back to the edge of real understanding.
In Leviticus 16 – which we read on Yom Kippur - a verse states that we must “atone our sins so that we can become purified.” Rabbi Eliyahu Munk said that the Day of Yom Kippur is a time when each Jew seeks purification and atonement. The first only happens when we make a move to come closer to what we could be. We know what that means. We must change. We need to become whole in our eyes. The process of purification occurs when we admit that knowledge has not redeemed us. Often time, in fact, it has served to only confound us and obscure what we know to be true in our hearts. Atonement happens at that moment. Purification begins when we initiate the process of change. When the Holy One peers into us and perceives sincerity, we are aided; we are granted atonement.
May the next day’s journey see us walking with God.

Yom Kippur and Our Angel

2007-09-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

“Come let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” 1
In this single, terse, statement God reveals the first stirrings of the primal being called the Adam. Deliberately, the Text tells us that this Adam-being was modeled after God’s image. There is much discussion throughout the epochs about what this means. For those who say that we are crafted in an image or likeness, what kind of image do we reflect? A physical likeness? A freedom of mind that other creatures do not enjoy? Rashi, the medieval rabbinic genius, says that the uniting factor between people and God is the fact that we speak. The subject of how we resemble God has generated a lot of discussion, and a lot of heat, throughout the ages. Another outstanding, unanswered question is: To whom is God speaking? Not clear.
The verse quoted above seems to implicate another being. After all, who is the “us?” Who is God talking to? Some interpretations believe that the use of “us” is like the royal “we.” This may be true. Some other, more ancient sources indicate that the “us” is God talking into His counsel. These were an earlier creation, the Angels. When God declares that man is to be created by an “us,” the Holy One is involving His chief counselors in the highest spheres.
Who or what are the Angels? Like the rest of the universe, the Angels were cast into being by a Divine decree. Like the water and luminaries; like the animals and the foliage the Angels were brought into existence by the Word of the Almighty.
On the second day of Creation God made a “firmament.” It is not clear what this firmament is except that it is some sort of boundary. In Hebrew rakia, is the firmament which became the boundary between the upper and lower universe. This is not a physical division like that air that separates water from the sky; it is a split of dimension. The rakia maintains a barrier between the physical realm and the other which lies just beyond out tactile senses.
According to Rabbi Acha ben Jacob, there is only the barest hint of a division between the upper and lower realms. Rabbi Acha tells us that the rakia, the point of separation, is as “narrow as a hair’s breadth.” 2 The once seamless universe was thus separated by this thin veil that spread across the cosmos. What was the purpose of the rakia? Why did God need to create it on the second day? That was the same day that the Holy One brought Angels into existence. The Master wanted to ensure that those celestial beings did not interfere with the life that He was about to bring out of the earth. Angels were to inhabit the upper sphere while humanity lived in the lower sphere.
In fact, one of the early sages of the Second Temple era indicted that such diametrically opposed creation was necessary. “God made one as the other,” he said quoting Ecclesiastes. 3 In other words, everything that God created has its mate, complement or opposite. The most obvious example in the Creation tale is the Man and Woman. Before the emergence of the Woman the Man is destitute. The Bible tells us that he search throughout creation to find the complement to his soul but he could not locate a “helpmate against him.” 4 Note that the Man does not seek companionship. The Adam converses with the animals of the Garden. The come to him. He names them. Yet, nothing comes close to finding his true opposite. Only when the Adam finally sees the “helpmate against him” does the man become whole. The two creations balanced one another. Each creation has its counterpart. “The Garden of Eden had Gehenom.” “The mountains have the hills. The oceans have the rivers.” 5
Two universes were created and divided. The rakia, firmament, was the barrier that kept them from intermingling. The lower universe is our universe. The upper universe is the dominion of the celestial creations. Even though the rakia is thread-thin it acts as an effective barrier to limit our vision and keep us focused on the physical realm.
The Hebrew word for Angels is melakhim. That is the same word for messengers. In fact, the Angels are the faithful messengers of the Almighty. Doing His bidding, the melakhim are dispatched by the Master. They frequent both universes as they rush to complete His will. As the Angels forever carry messages, they are true, devoted and loyal servants of God.
One day each year we draw proximate to the border of the rakia. Our soul becomes elevated. One day each year we closely resemble the inhabitants of the upper reaches. It is our great opportunity to cross the firmament. Yom Kippur. The great day of awe.
The Me’am Loez quotes the Angels on high as lauding the Jewish people on Yom Kippur. The Angel looks out over the sea of people garbed in white, their tallitiot (prayer shawls) draped over their shoulders crying out for forgiveness and mercy. “On this Day humanity is not far removed from the angelic beings,” an Angel begins.
“Just as we Angels pay no heed to our dress, wear no shoes, so too, Israel on this day stands before You in like manner.”
“Just as the Angels do not eat or drink so the people of Israel neither eat nor drink.”
“Just as the Angels wait upon the Lord and do not sit so Israel does not sit and remains attentive throughout the long day.”
“Just as there is no squabbling between Angels so there is peace among Your people.”
“Just as Angels are free of sin so Israel is clean of all sin today.”6

On this Day of Atonement the counsel of the Angels is validated. God asked them for their advice at the inception of the universe. “Come let us make man in our image, after our likeness,” He uttered to His Ministering Angels. When we come before God contrite, trembling, hungry and in need of forgiveness we rise to a grand level of holiness. “Little lower than Angels.”

1Genesis 1:26
2 Hagiga 15a
3 Ecclesiastes 7:14
4 Genesis 2:21
5 Hagiga Ibid
6 Aharay Mot

Rosh Hashanna, a primer

2007-09-16T14:36:00.000-07:00

RELIGIOUS LITERACY ROSH HASHANA
We Celebrate the World's Birthday

Wednesday, Sep 12, 2007
By JONATHAN CASE
TIMES-DISPATCH COLUMNIST

The teacher was standing at the front of the room. He asked, "Does anyone know why we celebrate birthdays?' No one answered. It seemed too simple and must therefore be a trick question. An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room.

Gazing around at the averted eyes the teacher went on. "We celebrate your birth date to show that the world changed for the better on the day you were born. That is a reason to celebrate! The people who love you throw a party once a year just to show how much richer their lives are because you are in them."

For Jews, Rosh Hashana is a birthday, of a sort. It celebrates the emergence of the universe. Tonight is the anniversary of that birthday. One of the oldest prayers that Jews recite as the Holy Day begins, "Today is the birthday of the world!" Like any other birthday party, this one celebrates the anniversary of the Artist having completed the canvas.

One of the traditions of Judaism is that we eat apples dipped in honey and often hallah dipped in sugar on Rosh Hashana. This is the "cake" of the party. We eat these foods as a celebration of the Earth while thanking God for the sweetness that inheres in the world and in our life.

THERE IS more, however, as the prayer continues, "On this day every creature of the universe awaits judgment." Rosh Hashana is also a time when the Artist reviews His work and closely examines it for imperfections, discoloration, and deterioration. Peering at every living being, God makes a determination whether His creations are responsible stewards or reckless destroyers. The evidence is scrutinized. Judgment is made.

A medieval scholar pondered, "Why does the Bible bother to tell the story of creation?" After all, the first chapters of Genesis do not reveal anything meaningful about the role and task of humans in the universe. It does not tell us much about God either. All Genesis really tells is a rather frugal, hard-to-follow narrative about the formation of the cosmos culminating in the creation of life on Earth. "Would it not have been a much better story if we skipped to, say, Exodus?"

"Yes," they answer. But then we would miss a subtle and critical point: We would overlook the gestation process and, more important, the ultimate goal of creation. Humanity is the pinnacle of all the Master's actions. The final achievement of God, man and woman were endowed with qualities that the psalmist later labeled "little lower than angels."

In fact, in one ancient source, God asked His ministering angels how they thought He should infuse His breath into the primordial man. Finally, God decided to blow His animating "breath of life" into the nostrils of the nascent being. The act is deliberate and powerful. This man now has a soul, a part of God, placed into him. With that act came responsibility. We are not mindless creations. We have a conscience that takes direction from our soul. That is why once a year the Holy One comes to examine us. He evaluates what we have done with our gift.

If all our actions were to be placed on two sides of a balance, which side would be heavier? Have we given or caused more evil than good? Have we become purveyors of lies or have we trafficked in honesty? Have we wreaked havoc upon God's canvas by destroying large swaths of our garden? Or have we tilled and nurtured the soil? Have we made our Father in heaven proud? Or ashamed? The Master looks at the evidence and makes a determination.

FOR MILLENNIA Jews have passed before God, coming to synagogues in droves for the Holy Days. Knowing that we stand before God with our deeds splayed before the Master, we also judge ourselves. If, after fiercely and bravely looking at ourselves, we do not like what we see it is time to (1) throw ourselves on God's mercy and (2) make a vow to change our behavior.

With all the introspection, Rosh Hashana is also a festival celebrating our universe. The tone of the service is at once serious and joyful. The ram's horn is sounded to bring our soul closer to God. Exchanges from people we have not seen in a year are full of love and goodness. We wish one another a "good and sweet New Year" and, at the same time, look around for the faces that were here last year but are no longer in the land of the living.

The ultimate goal of Rosh Hashana is wishing God a happy new year and behaving in such a way that will make Him proud of His children. God then rejoices.
Rabbi Jonathan Case is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Atid in Richmond.