Whose Plan is It?

Vayigash


Genesis 44:18 - 48:27


Précis: We approach the end of the Joseph saga. Benjamin is being held by Joseph as the alleged thief of a gold cup. Judah comes near (vayigash) Joseph, and begs for his brother Benjamin’s life, offering himself as a substitute. Joseph is overcome and reveals himself to his brothers, forgiving them for selling him into slavery, stating that it was all part of God’s plan. Joseph sends them back home to bring Jacob and their families down to Egypt in order to survive the upcoming famine. They comply, and Joseph arranges for them to reside in the land of Goshen, living off “the fat of the land” at Pharaoh’s insistence. During the remainder of the famine, Joseph purchases land and cattle for Pharaoh in exchange for the grain stored during the seven years of plenty. The Israelites prosper and multiply.



Gen. 45:8 “And so, it is not you who sent me here but God…”



Jacob seeks to comfort his brothers, telling them that all that had transpired was part of God's Plan. Nahum Sarna comments on this verse, explaining that "God may use Man's evil purposes as the instrument of ultimate good, beyond the knowledge, desire or realization of the human agents involved.” He supports this point of view by quoting from Proverbs (16:9) - "A man may plot out his course, but it is the Lord who directs his steps.” A more modern saying goes: "Man plans, God laughs." What is suggested is that we can never really tell what the consequences of any particular course of action will be. One might even think that asking such a question is just a waste of time and effort.


Judaism repeatedly stresses the importance of free will, but does not speak clearly about the consequences of its exercise. Adam and Eve gain and exercise free will, and are expelled from the Garden of Eden. Joseph is sold into slavery, but his family is saved from famine. King David sends Bathsheba's husband on a deadly mission, loses a child, but then sires the next King. Job lives a righteous life but suffers unimaginable misfortune.


If the consequences of our actions are unpredictable, why do we bother with mitzvot? At various times and with differing degrees of emphasis, our tradition gives us a variety of reasons for the performance of the mitzvot. We are to "do mitzvahs" because (a) it is God’s will (b) there is inherent good in their performance, as we mimic God's attributes by performing mitzvot, (c) our performance of mitzvot reminds us that God is present in the universe, or (d) we will be rewarded, either in this world or in the world to come. As someone said (perhaps the King in The King and I?), "It is a question!"


Joseph states that God planned for the family to be saved from famine by orchestrating his sale into bondage. What the text is really telling us is that Joseph's role facilitated the transformation of his family into a nation, and allowed them first to grow numerous and wealthy, and later to survive their slavery in Egypt. But was survival the only goal? The text of the Exodus narrative seems to imply that Israelite slavery in Egypt was part of God's Plan, a necessary prerequisite to Revelation at Sinai.


I suggest that mere survival cannot be the only goal, whether as a people or as individuals. We are a questioning, wrestling people, trying always to define our role and mission, hoping (and praying) that God's Plan will be good for us and for our families.

Part of the Problem or Part of the Solution?

Mikketz
Genesis 41:1-44:17

Précis: At the end (mikketz) of two years of Joseph’s imprisonment, Pharaoh dreams of cows and ears of corn. The butler who had shared Joseph’s cell now remembers him, and calls him from prison. Joseph predicts seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh is so impressed that he appoints Joseph as his chief vizier and Joseph goes about storing grain during the times of plenty.

Joseph marries Asenath and they have two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. When the famine comes, Jacob sends his sons to Egypt to purchase food; Joseph has them brought in while he remains in cognito. Joseph accuses the brothers of spying, and sends them home after they leave one brother hostage and promise to return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. Upon their return, the brothers (including Benjamin) meet the still-unidentified Joseph. Joseph has their bags filled not only with grain but also with the money used to purchase the grain. He also hides a gold cup in Benjamin’s belongings. When they are “caught” by Joseph’s men, they learn that whoever stole the cup would become Joseph’s slave, while the others return to their homeland. On this cliffhanger, the parasha ends.

Genesis 41:33-36 “Now let Pharaoh find a man of discernment and wisdom, and set him over the land of Egypt...and… organize the land of Egypt in the seven years of plenty. Let all the food of the good years that are coming be gathered, and let… that food be a reserve for the land for the seven years of famine which will come.”

Imagine this scene: Joseph is brought from a prison cell to the court of Pharaoh where he is introduced to the ruler himself. Pharaoh has asked Joseph to interpret his dreams. This he does, but without being asked, Joseph also tells Pharaoh how to manage the dangers he has divined in Pharaoh’s dreams. This may be one of the great examples of “chutzpah” found in the Bible! On the other hand, this is a measure of Joseph’s unrivaled courage to present a solution without being asked to do so, and here lies a lesson we might consider.


We are often are problem-oriented instead of being solution-oriented. Negativity and the problems we face tend to be the main focus of our attention, whether as professional or interpersonal issues. Some decades ago, we Baby Boomers used to say “If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.” It seems to me that American society in the 21st Century has changed from the simple (simplistic?) days of the ‘60’s: we are more likely to say that the problems are so daunting and immense that there can be no real solutions.

Americans, spurred on by a rapacious media and by a polarized political system, seem to delight in focusing on all that is wrong, from unemployment, to global climate change, to wars, terrorism, and even Tiger Wood’s infidelities. Any solution-oriented suggested is immediately attacked (health care reform, financial regulation, cap and trade, etc.) and the attacks are often ad hominem without any kind of alternative, other than "no."

Joseph’s actions in this story show us that individuals can indeed propose real answers to dire problems and that the challenges looming ahead have to met with "courage, wisdom and discernment." We can no longer afford to be problem-oriented, and like Joseph, we need to be solution-oriented actors if we hope to overcome the obstacles before us.

PS – As Monty Python would say, “And now, for something completely different.” I was reading The Alienated Minority - The Jews of Medieval Latin Europe by Kenneth R. Stow, when I came across his discussion of early Jewish Italian commentaries on major Jewish texts written in "Judeo-Italian" (which used Hebrew script to transliterate Italian words). One such commentator, Judah Romano, explained what Maimonides meant when he used an obscure word "hararah" (a kind of flat cake which could be kept warm for eating on Shabbat without violating the laws of Shabbat). Romano used a one word Italian term to explain what this "flat cake" was, using the Hebrew letters peh-yod-zade-heh: "pizza" Stow writes, "This is the first known written attestation to this now international term." So while Jews may not have invented pizza, we were apparently the first to write about it!

Interruption or Continuity? Judah and Tamar

Vayeshev

Genesis 37:1- 40:23

Précis: The story of Joseph begins with the words, “And Jacob dwelt (vayeshev) in the land of his father’s travels.” We learn that Joseph is Jacob’s favorite son. Joseph receives the famous coat of many colors, and dreams strange dreams and relates them to his brothers and father, stoking anger and envy. The sons conspire to do away with Joseph, but before he dies, they sell him into slavery. Jacob is devastated when the sons present evidence of Joseph’s “death.”

The narrative is "interrupted" by the story of Judah and Tamar. Judah marries off his first son to Tamar. The son soon dies, and, the next son is married to the widow (“levirate marriage.”) The second son dies, and Judah is reluctant to offer the third son. The widow dresses as a harlot, seduces Judah, becomes pregnant, and reveals herself to Judah as a woman wronged. He acknowledges her as a rightful daughter.

The scene shifts back to Joseph, who is now a servant in the household of Potiphar, an Egyptian official. Potiphar’s wife attempts to seduce Joseph but he refuses her advances. She accuses him nonetheless of attempted rape, and Joseph is tossed into prison. There, he meets jailed servants of Pharaoh, for whom he interprets dreams successfully. When the chief butler is restored to his post, he promises to “remember” Joseph, but the parasha ends with the words, “but he forgot him.”

Genesis 38:6-26 “Judah got a wife for Er his first-born; her name was Tamar. But…God took his life. Then Judah said to Onan, ‘Join with your brother's wife…’ and God took his life also. Then Judah said to his daughter-in-law Tamar, ‘Stay as a widow in your father's house until my son Shelah grows up….’ A long time afterward… Judah went up to Timnah to his sheepshearers…. And Tamar…took off her widow’s garb.… When Judah saw her, he took her for a harlot….So he…said, ‘Here, let me sleep with you.…’ But she said, ‘You must leave a pledge until you have (paid).’ And he said, 'What pledge shall I give you?’ She replied, ‘Your seal and cord, and the staff which you carry.’ So he gave them to her....About three months later, Judah was told, ‘Your daughter-in-law Tamar has played the harlot…she is with child by harlotry.’ ‘Bring her out,’ said Judah, ‘and let her be burned....’ She sent this message to her father-in-law, ‘I am with child by the man to whom these belong.’ And she added, ‘Examine these: whose seal and cord and staff are these?’ Judah recognized them, and said, ‘She is more in the right than I, inasmuch as I did not give her to my son Shelah.’"

Rabbi Steven Lindemann explains (JTS Torah Commentary, 12/24/05) that while many have questioned why the story of Judah and Tamar “interrupts” the flow of the Joseph narrative, it in fact serves as an important bridge. The story of Tamar is intricately linked with that which precedes and that which follows.

The first connecting theme is that of separation. Judah separates himself from his brothers, just as Joseph has been separated from his family (in the Hebrew, the root yud-resh-dalet is used in both instances to heighten the connection). Just as Jacob “recognizes” Joseph’s blood-stained coat, Judah “recognizes” his rod and staff (with the same Hebrew word, hakker being used in both cases). Judah sees his father weeping for his “lost” son Joseph, and Judah will ultimately take responsibility for Benjamin in the story that is to come (wherein Joseph is the one who weeps).

So we have linguistic connections between the story of Joseph both before and after the Tamar “interlude.”

We also have the more concrete parallel theme of sexual tension. Judah and Joseph are both caught up in compromising positions. Tamar “plays the harlot” and Potiphar’s wife attempts to seduce Joseph. Both Judah and Joseph act with integrity (Judah by acknowledging his sin and responsibility, Joseph by refusing the advances of his master’s wife). Judah is viewed by the rabbis as a man of great honor, suitable to take the leadership of the Jewish People through his descendants; Joseph assumes the position of leadership in Egypt.

Whether we read this episode as an interruption, interlude or continuation of the story depends upon our perspective. I suggest that it may be seen as a metaphor for how interruptions in life may have far-ranging impacts. When the telephone rings or when the Blackberry buzzes, life is interrupted, and such interruptions can result in significant work (or life) changes. It’s important to remember that life is an ongoing story, filled with interruptions which can impact the flow of life itself. We may plan, we may have goals, but life has a way of rising up unexpectedly and biting us – or blessing us.

Reconciliation Takes Courage

Vayishlach


Genesis 32:4 - 36:43



Précis: As he nears his return to his homeland, Jacob sent (vayishlach) messengers to Esau to ascertain Esau’s state of mind after their 20 year separation. While he awaits a reply, Jacob encounters an “adversary” (most assume an angel) with whom Jacob wrestles through the night. As dawn breaks, the adversary announces that Jacob’s name is to be changed to Israel – “He who wrestles with God.” On the following day, Esau approaches, and despite Jacob’s fears, there is a happy reunion.

We then read the story of how a local prince rapes Dinah, Jacob’s daughter, and then asks to marry her. Jacob agrees on condition that all of the men of the city are circumcised. While the men are recovering, Jacob’s sons Simon and Levi attack the city and kill all of the inhabitants in revenge for the insult to their sister.


Jacob soon travels to Beth-el (the site of his ladder dream), and on the way, Rachel gives birth to Benjamin and dies following her labor. Thereafter, Isaac’s death is noted, as is his burial by Esau and Jacob. The parasha ends with a genealogy of Esau and his descendants.


Genesis 32:8 “Jacob was greatly frightened; in his anxiety, he divided the people with him, and the flocks and herds and camels, into two camps.”

Why was Jacob so frightened? How does he overcome this fear? The text tells us that there is a real basis for fear, despite a promise of God’s protection, and despite Jacob’s new wealth and power. As noted by Joel Rosenberg in Back to the Sources, the text tells us repeatedly and explicitly about the rivalry between Jacob and Esau. They are portrayed as being in conflict in the womb (Gen. 25:22-23), at birth (25:24-26), as opposites growing up (25:27), as loved by different parents (25:28), at the sale of the birthright (25:29-34), and at the theft of Isaac’s blessing (27:19-23). Jacob knew that at the reunion, he would have to face Esau’s anger and pain which he, Jacob, had caused. The brothers had spent twenty years apart. During that time they both had the opportunity to consider everything that had happened: the lying, the tricks, the loss, and the desire for revenge. Jacob had reason for fear.


I suggest that this fear was overcome when Jacob finds courage during his struggle with “the adversary.” Some commentators suggest that Jacob’s “wrestling” with the “adversary” was a metaphor for an intense struggle within Jacob’s own psyche, a fight between his yetzer tov and yetzer ha-rah (between the good and evil inclinations). Jacob’s new-found courage resulted from a deep and significant self-analysis, which led him to understand that seeking forgiveness was the true test of courage.

Jacob no longer waits for God to save him. He takes initiative and concrete steps to create the possibility for reconciliation: he apologizes, he offers gifts, and he abases himself before Esau.

All too often we engage in actions which cause real hurt to others. It takes courage to seek reconciliation with those we have harmed. Rabbi Kerry M. Olitzky suggests in Renewal Each Day that if we really want forgiveness from those we have hurt, "We simply have to face each deceit of the past. [We] change what happened by changing what is happening now." Jacob and Esau's reconciliation requires courage by both parties: the courage to ask for forgiveness, and the courage to grant it. The Rabbis teach us: “Who is a true hero? The one who turns an enemy into a friend.” (Avot d'rabbi Natan, chapter 23).


Shabbat Shalom.

More to the story than meets the eye

Yayetze
Genesis 28:10-33:3

Précis: As Jacob travels towards the household of his uncle Laban, he dreams of a ladder (some translate it as a ramp) to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. He vows to build a great House for God on the spot. Jacob meets and falls in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel. Laban agrees to the match, provided that Jacob works for him for seven years. Laban switches the older daughter, Leah, for Rachel; Jacob works an additional seven years for her hand. After the 14 years, Jacob works for Laban for an additional six, and acquires great wealth and flocks through shrewd husbandry. During the stay with Laban, most of the children of Jacob are born. At the conclusion of the parasha, after tense negotiations with Laban, Jacob leaves with his possessions and family.

Genesis 29:10 “And it happened when Jacob saw Rachel daughter of Laban his mother’s brother and the sheep of Laban his mother’s brother that he stepped forward and rolled the stone from the mouth of the well and watered the sheep of Laban his mother’s brother.”

We are continually blessed by being part of a Torah commentary discussion stretching back more than 2,000 years. We hear the voices of the Mishnaic Sages, of Maimonides and Rashi, the other great rabbis of all ages, and we enter into a type of communion with them. Thus, it is usual practice in Torah study to state that “Rashi says” (and not “Rashi said") because we are, in effect, continuing a discussion.

The late 20th century provided us with another way of looking at the text which adds to our appreciation of its complexity and meaning: that of literary analysis. One of the leaders of this movement is Robert Alter, Professor of Hebrew and Comparative Literature at the University of California, Berkeley. His earlier works, The Art of Biblical Narrative and The Art of Biblical Poetry have been followed by his own translation and commentary on the Torah, titled simply The Five Books of Moses.

This particular verse gives us an opportunity to consider how his analysis can enhance our understanding of the characters, and perhaps lead us to new insights. We can’t think of Jacob in isolation. First, while he was favored by his mother, his father favored his brother Esau (which certainly must have had an impact on him). His brother Esau has threatened his life. While he has earlier been described as a “dweller in tents” (Gen. 25:28), which is suggestive of a quiet, contemplative person, Alter notes that here we see a man of action, displaying a “Homeric” feat of rolling away a stone single-handedly, which the assembled shepherds had been unable to do together. He not only rolls the stone away – he waters the flocks.

Alter notes that the encounter of a maiden at a foreign well and the drawing of water tells us that we are witnesses to a betrothal scene (cf. Abraham’s servant with Rebecca, Jacob and Rachel, and Moses with Zipporah). A comparison of these scenes tells us much about Jacob’s character, particularly as the details contrast with Isaac’s scene.

Jacob is present; Isaac was represented by a surrogate. Jacob, and not the maiden, draws the water. Thus, these scenes show that Jacob is strikingly different than Isaac. Isaac is repeatedly shown in the text as a passive object of others’ actions (he is the intended sacrifice in the Akedah; a wife is procured for him; he is deceived in the matter of the blessing). Jacob is shown to be a man of action: he leaves his homeland, he finds a bride (two in fact), he becomes wealthy, he literally wrestles with God, he returns to his homeland and faces down his sibling fears.

What are we to make of the differences we have found? I would submit that the text is telling us that there is no one-size-fits-all way of living a good life, and no one path to ensuring that a heritage is passed safely to the next generation. Isaac and Jacob were equally responsible (and successful) for the transmittal of Abraham’s knowledge and belief. That they were so different from each other suggests that how tradition is transmitted is less important than the transmission itself. Alter’s approach adds to our “tool bag” of ways to understand our heritage and pass it forward to the next generation.

The Dignity of Esau

Toledot
Genesis 25:19-28:9


Précis: The introductory phrase to this parasha is “These are the generations (“toledot”) of Isaac.” What follows is the birth of the twins, Esau and Jacob. Details of their childhood are omitted from the narrative; we know that Jacob was a quiet man and that Esau was a cunning hunter, that their mother Rebecca preferred Jacob, and that Isaac preferred Esau. We then have the story of the sale of the birthright by Esau to Jacob for a bowl of porridge. A famine takes place, and Isaac journeys to the land of the Philistines where he claims that his wife Rebecca is actually his sister (as Abraham did with Sarah in Lech Lecha) and again, the woman escapes unharmed. The story then turns to the “great deception” where Jacob pretends to be Esau in order to obtain the primary blessing from his father Isaac. Esau hates Jacob and threatens him; Rebecca urges Jacob to escape to her family in Haran, towards where he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Genesis 25:34 "Jacob then gave Esau bread and lentil stew; and he ate, he drank, he got up, he went his way..."

In this week's parasha, Esau, in a rush of activity, returns home from hunting and demands "red stuff" (stew) from his bother. Jacob agrees, in return for the hereditary birthright.

Here is a thought: was Esau the first person with ADHD? Attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is a neurological and developmental disorder with a wide range of symptoms, often characterized by impulsivity, the need for instant gratification, an inability to focus, and difficulty recognizing and appropriately reacting to social cues. This verse displays a similar characterization of Esau. He is impulsive, he cannot wait to have his hunger gratified. We have four, rapid-fire verbs in a row: he ate, he drank, he arose, he went his way. The verbs are suggestive in their physicality, and are characteristic of those who suffer from ADHD.

The rabbis claim that Esau was a person with serious character defects (incidentally, a charge often leveled at those with ADHD) and did not deserve the birthright. They opine that Esau's flaws justify Jacob’s trickery. On reflection, this may be unfair to Esau. After all, even at birth, Jacob tried to "steal" the first born status, by grasping at Esau's heel. Was this any fault of Esau's? Hardly. Esau was a good son, providing his farther with food, and is loved by his father (a man with serious father/son conflicts in his own past). Esau is distressed when he realizes that the birthright and blessing have been lost. Many years later, when the brothers reunite, he greets Jacob warmly, in a forgiving manner, despite Jacob's apparent hostility.

We have been slow to accept the reality of ADHD as a legitimate medical condition. All too often, we think of impulsivity or lack of attention as “kids being kids” or part of “normal growing up.” On the other hand, many of us have family members who face the challenge of ADHD and the continuing problems it poses throughout life. It is not something to be casually dismissed.

This parasha gives us an opportunity to consider this disability in a Jewish context. The text suggests that Isaac was aware of Esau’s infirmity when he tells Esau to “get your gear, your quiver, your bow…go into the field.…hunt for me…prepare it for me…and bring it to me.” (Gen. 27 2-4). Isaac provides specific, detailed instructions to his son, in a loving way, to help him succeed, which is exactly what parents of kids with ADHD are taught to do today.

Some of us, and some of our friends and family, seem to succeed easily. Others face steeper challenges. Jewish ethical tradition demands that we treat those with infirmities with care, and with dignity. This text is a reminder that we need to show compassion to those who do not easily achieve “normative” standards of success, and to continually seek ways to bring even hidden capabilities to the forefront within a Jewish context.

Estrangement and Reconciliation

Chayye Sarah


Genesis 23:1-25:18

Précis: The parasha begins with the counting of the life of Sarah (chayye Sarah), and with her death. It continues with a detailed description of the purchase of the cave of Machpela by Abraham for a family burial site. Abraham orders his servant to go to Abraham’s ancestral home to obtain a wife for Isaac, and after a series of fulfilled signs, the servant finds Rebecca. Rebecca returns with the servant; she and Isaac meet, fall in love at first sight, and wed. The parasha ends with the death of Abraham, his burial by Isaac and Ishmael in the family plot, and with the genealogy of Ishmael.

This week’s parasha is thick with life cycle events describing the stresses that families face with a special focus on estrangement, separation, and attempted reconciliation. Before the parasha begins, we had already learned of the challenges found in Abraham’s household: the late-in-life separation and relocation of Abraham from his home in Haran to Canaan, Sarah’s infertility, the birth of Ishmael, the birth of Isaac, Ishmael’s banishment, and the aborted sacrifice on Mount Moriah. The half-brothers, Isaac and Ishmael, have been separated. Both appear to be estranged from Abraham. Abraham’s wife Sarah dies suddenly and Abraham buries her. Isaac, the son so recently the subject of the Akedah, is absent. Where is he? We are not informed.

Abraham, perhaps because he is lonely following the death of Sarah, now seems intent on reestablishing a relationship with Isaac when he sends his “senior servant” (most assume it is Eliezer) on a trip to Abraham’s homeland to obtain a wife for Isaac.

When Eliezer returns, the separation between Abraham and Isaac is subtly reinforced by the text. The servant does not report back to Abraham. Instead, Eliezer brings Rebecca to Isaac (whom he refers to as "my master," another indication that all is not well between Abraham and Isaac).

Isaac, by the way, has been living in Be’er lahai roi. This location is coincidentally (or not so coincidentally!) the same location to which Hagar and Ishmael fled upon their expulsion from Abraham’s household. Was Isaac seeking a reunion with his brother Ishmael after the experience on Moriah and the death of Sarah? Was he seeking family reconciliation? The text fails to tell us.

We do learn that after Isaac is comforted by Rebecca, Abraham (who we’ve all assumed was close to death) takes another wife (by the name of Keturah) with whom he has an additional six sons, all who become the future heads of nations. Was this another indication that all was not well between Abraham and Isaac, or that Abraham felt the need for an alternative heir? Some midrashim suggest that “Keturah” was actually Hagar! If this is the case, one might consider that Abraham’s reestablishing connections with Hagar (and Ishmael) was another sign that all seemed lost between Abraham and Isaac.

Whatever the relationship actually was between Abraham and Isaac, Abraham reaches out at death by making sure that Isaac inherits all of his property. We also know that upon Abraham’s death, Isaac and Ishmael together bury Abraham next to Sarah in the Cave of Machpela.

What are we to learn from this narrative, and from the implications which seem to be lurking just beneath the text itself? First, family life is complicated. There are always opportunities for misunderstandings and for one's own needs to conflict with those whom one loves. It is easy to blame others in the family, and to break away and alienate family members. Second, reconciliation is difficult but is possible, even at death. Reconciliation may come through joining together for a funeral (as with Isaac and Ishmael), or (more hopefully) by considering the needs of others and seeking to help them once again, as Abraham did with Isaac by securing a wife for him.

In our own lives, we may have witnessed the awkward reunion of long-estranged family members at a funeral. How much better would it be if such reconciliations took place at a simchas? We can’t burn bridges with those we love. This week’s reading reminds us of the ever-present potential for reconciliation where love exists.

The Moral Education of God

Vayera

Genesis 18:1-22:24

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They predict the birth of Isaac, overheard by Sarah (who laughs). God reveals His plans for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham argues for its salvation for the sake of any innocent who might dwell there. The scene shifts to Sodom, where Lot lives, and he and his daughters are rescued first from an unruly mob, and then from the destruction of the city itself. Lot’s wife glances back and turns into the pillar of salt. His daughters, fearing that they are the last females alive, make Lot drunk and engage in sexual relations with him, later giving birth to founders of the tribes of Moab and Ammon (traditional adversaries of the Israelites).

Back with Abraham, Sarah conceives and gives birth to Isaac. She becomes unhappy with the continued presence of Ishmael and prevails upon Abraham to expel Ishmael and Hagar from the household, which he does (after being promised by God that Ishmael, too, will be the father of a great nation). Thereafter, the story continues with the attempted sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham, called the Akedah (the Binding of Isaac).


Genesis 18:23-33 “Abraham came forward and said, ‘Will you sweep away the innocent along with the guilty? What if there be fifty innocent within the city…? Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death to the innocent as well as the guilty…’ And Adonai said, ‘I will forgive the whole place for their sake.’ And Abraham said, ‘What if the 50 innocent will lack five? Will you destroy the whole city for want of the five?’"

In my recent comments about the parasha Noach, I suggested that we should consider God as a character in the narrative: God undergoes changes and growth which can give us vital insights into the text.

Similarly, Jerome M. Segal suggests in his book, Joseph’s Bones (Riverhead Books, 2007) that the story of Sodom and the bargaining about its fate is an example of what he calls “the moral education of God.”

Regarding the Flood story, God felt that all of humanity, with the exception of Noah, was evil (Gen. 6:5: … “every form of their heart’s planning was only evil all the day”). But we know that humanity was not entirely evil, based upon the fact that the Bible has positive things to say, at times, about other earlier characters (Abel offers an appropriate sacrifice, for example). When we add to this the fact that God expresses regret for the Flood, and promises never to repeat it, we can conclude that God has “learned a lesson” not to slay the innocent with the guilty. This lesson is documented by the rainbow, a sign of a new covenant.

In this week’s reading, God asks the angels whether He should hide His intentions regarding Sodom from Abraham. He states that Abraham has been “singled out” so that he “may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Eternal, doing what is right and just” (Gen. 18:19). Thus, because Abraham is to be a teacher of morals, God becomes an early practioner of “teaching the teacher.”

It is ironic, then, that the roles are immediately reversed: Abraham becomes the teacher, and God the student. Abraham knows what God has planned, because God has done it before (the Flood). Abraham asks in the best of Socratic instruction: “Will you sweep away the innocent with the guilty?...Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” Abraham asserts that moral law is binding, even upon God. Mankind cannot be viewed as God’s plaything merely because He created it.

The midrash supports this interpretation. In Genesis Rabbah 49:9, Abraham reminds God about His promise: “You have sworn not to bring a deluge upon the world. Would You evade Your oath? Not a deluge of water but a deluge of fire? Then You have not acted according to Your oath.” Abraham chides God for looking for a loophole. The Torah seems to be telling us that God’s understanding of morality grows as His understanding of humanity grows. God’s initial subscription to the theory of collective punishment slowly gives way to the conception of individual culpability: the innocent should not suffer on account of the guilty.

God learns, and we should learn by His example. We are repeatedly told to act as God would act. “Just as God visits the sick, we should visit the sick. Just as God comforts mourners, so should we.” (BT Sotah 14a). The story of the Flood and the story of Sodom taken together show that God has the ability to grow as His understanding of human beings grows. What a wonderful metaphor for all of us to consider as we strive to live ethical lives.

Be a Blessing

How does one go about being a blessing?

Lech Lecha
Genesis 12:1 -17:27

Précis: This parasha, “get you up” (lech lecha) begins with “the call” of Abram to leave his home and journey to a new land. At God’s command, Abram and Sarai journey to Canaan; when famine strikes, they travel to Egypt (where Sarai is taken into Pharaoh’s harem after Abram calls her his “sister” but escapes without harm) and they leave Egypt, with Abram now a rich man. To avoid familial squabbles, Abram separates himself from his nephew Lot (who moves to Sodom), but Abram is forced to rescue Lot in the first military action described in the Bible. Abram reaches a negotiated settlement with the locals, and God promises him an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers her servant (Hagar) to Abram, and Hagar gives birth to a son, Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai, to be the heir of Abram. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of their new covenant with God, which is then symbolized by circumcision.



Genesis 12:2 “And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great; and you will be a blessing.”

In Lech Lecha, Abram enters into a covenant with God, leaves his homeland and all that he knew, and in return receives a promise that he will become a “great nation” and a “blessing.” We can understand a “great nation” in normal human terms. It could be great in military strength, like the Roman Empire. It could be great in scholarship, like Plato’s Greece. It could be great in sheer numbers of people, like China or India. But how does one become a blessing?

Etz Hayim states that it means that Abram is be an exemplar of all that is good – a “dugmah” or role model. Samson Raphael Hirsch suggests that this is not a promise but a command: you SHALL be a blessing, meaning that Abram must live a righteous life if he is to receive the promised blessings. Rabbi Hertz opines that it is Abram’s task to turn others towards God. Robert Alter notes that a change in the vocalization of the Masoritic text we have inherited results in an alternative reading: we can read it "I shall make your name great; and it shall be a blessing.” In other words, people will bless others by Abram’s name, hoping to share, in a sense, in his honor (yechus).

I have another way to explain how Abram himself became the blessing. He takes initiative and starts a significant task (late in life!) by picking up himself and his household and going toward an undesignated destination to become a great nation. Will he complete the task himself? Probably not. But starting the task itself was a key to his becoming a blessing: it laid the framework for others to build upon.

We may all be discouraged when we face immense challenges. As Rabbi Tarphon is quoted in Pirke Avot (2:21), "The work is not yours to complete, and neither are you free to desist from it." We would be wise to remember that God promised Abram, and in turn promised us, that if we become initiators willing to take the risks to live ethical lives, our efforts will not be forgotten and we may be remembered as a blessing by those who follow us.

How Long Can You Tread Water?

With a tip of the yarmulka to Bill Cosby.......


Noach
Genesis 6:9-11:32

Précis: The story of Noah and Flood appear in this parasha. Noah, called by God, builds the ark and collects the animals (two by two, except when he collects 7 pairs). Then it rains and rains. Noah and his family are saved. They leave the ark, build an altar, and make sacrifices to God. God sets a rainbow as a promise not to destroy mankind again. Noah plants a vineyard, and becomes drunk. The story of the Tower of Babel follows, and the parasha ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, ending with Abram.

Gen. 6:5-6 “And God saw that great was humankind’s evildoing on earth and every form of their heart’s planning was only evil all the day. Then God was angry that He had made humankind on earth, and it pained His heart.”

Rabbi Marc Wolf, writing in the JTS Torah Weekly Commentary (11/5/05) suggested that we should look at the Book of Genesis as a commentary about the development of God’s character. It seems that this parasha is a particularly good example of his theory.

At first glance, it is presumptuous for us to think about God, the Eternal One, omniscient and omnipresent, all-knowing, and all-seeing, as being capable of change, development, or growth. It seems to fly in the face of our concept of Jewish “dogma” (if there is in fact such a thing as Jewish “dogma”).

On second thought, we have been presented with a written work, the Bible, which (whether one believes it is the actual Word of God or not) can only be comprehended in human terms. If we focus on the lessons we can glean only from the life of Adam and Noah, Abraham and Moses, we may be missing other insights to be gleaned from God’s role in the story.

In this parasha, we find a God who is so angry with His creation that He plans to destroy it entirely. This certainly was not what He “expected.” The free will which had been given to Adam, Eve, and their descendants was used and abused. Noah is chosen as the new Adam because he was pure and “walked before God.”

Noah soon proves that he is also endowed with free will. He sends out a bird before God orders him to do so; he offers God a sacrifice after he leaves the ark (again, without God’s command). Faced with these exercises of free will, God is pleased: he offers the rainbow and promises not to destroy the world again.

God has grown. He begins the parasha angry enough to destroy the world because of the exercise of free will, but at the end of the story, another exercise of free will is the basis for the rainbow.

One could argue that it is not the exercise of free will per se, but rather the result of the exercise that pleases God. I prefer to see it another way: God has (as the Kabbalists would say) withdrawn part of Himself from the universe to leave room for the exercise of free will by human beings.

What does this teach us about Judaism? Our God is one who “savors” the free will sacrifice, the election to serve, to live ethical lives, to “walk before God” as did Noah. As Rabbi Wolf notes, “All we need to do is stick our hands outside the ark.”

Our Part in the blessings of creation

Bereishit

Genesis 1:1 - 6:8



Précis: The first Book of the Torah, Bereishit (Genesis, literally “In the beginning” or “When God began to create”) begins with the now familiar story of creation: the world is created in six days, with God resting on the seventh. The story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are included in this weekly reading, as is the story of Cain and Abel.



1:1 “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”



Rabbi Jack Tauber, in his book Yalkut Ya’akov, cites a Talmudic explanation of why the description of creation starts with the letter bet, the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet,and not with the alef, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The alef is the first letter, and has a numerical equivalent value of 1, while the bet is the second letter, with a numerical equivalent of two. Shouldn't first things come first?

According to an explanation of the sages (Genesis Rabbah, 1:10), if the story of creation begun with an alef, we would live in a world of curses, since the word for curse (arur) begins with an alef. Much better to begin creation with a bet, the first letter of the Hebrew word for blessing (bracha)! Thus, we live in a world where we have the opportunity to make creation a daily blessing.

Creation was not perfect. It was incomplete and it required development. Had the world been created in totality and in its entirety, it would have been a world without stimulation, challenge, or the need for creativity and exploration. It would have been a world where the struggle to meert the challenges of life were absent. How boring and uninteresting!

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, one of the great teachers of traditional Judaism over the last century, suggests in Halakchic Man that because the Torah begins with Creation, the story of Creation must be read in a way to illuminate the underlying legal (halakchic) matters. Noting that human beings are the only creatures created in God's image, he argues that just as God is a creator, so too human beings must create. The first commandment of the Torah, in his view, is for human beings to "create." They must go out into the world and transform and renew it.

The new cycle of Torah reading which we start this week gives us the opportunity to examine our role in the on-going creation of the world: in tikkun olam, in support of our families and friends, in support of Israel, and in support of the Jewish community.

The Almost Forgotten Chag

In most years, as we reach this point of the calendar, I have focused a holiday d'var on Simchat Torah, the culmination of the holiday season that began (it now seems so long ago!) with Rosh Hashanah. This year, I wanted to focus on the day after Sukkot and the day before Simchat Torah (at least for traditional congregations: the Reform Movement celebrates Sh'mini Atzeret on the same day as Simchat Torah).

Sh'mini Atzeret is among the least observed of our holidays, coming as it does after the solemnity of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, after the joy of Sukkot, and just prior to the gala celebrations of Simchat Torah. As a festival day, it has two special characteristics: we recite Yizkor (the memorial service) and the liturgy includes a special prayer for rain ("Geshem"), of which we will be reminded in the Amidah prayer until next Passover. To most of us, neither liturgical experience is a real cause for celebration, even though our liturgy insists that Sh’mini Atzeret is a festival of “our gladness” (simchateinu), just as is Sukkot.

One meaning of “Atzeret” is “Assembly," from the Hebrew root meaning to gather together or store. In a more mystical interpretation, the rabbis considered "Atzeret" as coming from a root meaning stopping or delaying. As a midrash explains, God has stopped us from departing from His Presence, like a king who had invited his children to a banquet lasting many days. When the lengthy celebration finally ends, the king says “My children! I beg of you, delay your departure by one more day. It is difficult for me to take leave of you.”'

This midrash implies that we have been in God’s Presence since Rosh Hashanah, asking for forgiveness. On Yom Kippur, we sought atonement, and on Sukkot we offered thanks for His bounty. Sh’mini Atzeret, say the sages, suggests that God has been listening, and that this holiday is an expression of God’s reluctance to our taking leave of His Presence. It implies that God will remain accessible to us throughout the year.

May we all be blessed with the understanding that “God is near to all who call upon Him.” Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach.

A Festive Celebration

Dear Friends and Family:

As we approach the festival of Sukkot tonight, the weather around here seems to have anticipated the season: suddenly, there is a chill in the morning air. Let's hope that the rain holds off!


Numbers 29:12 “The fifteenth day of the seventh month shall be a sacred holiday to you when no mundane work may be done. You shall celebrate a festival to God for seven days.”

The Festival reading for Sukkot comes primarily from the parasha Emor in Leviticus. In traditional congregations, we also read this verse from the Book of Numbers, which describes in detail the sacrifices made on this pilgrimage festival. The number of sacrifices for this festival, as noted in Etz Hayim, is “staggering” and includes 98 lambs and 70 bulls. Passover only requires the sacrifice of 16 bulls, and no other holiday calls for more than 2 such sacrifices.

What are we to make of this distinction? According to the Talmud (Sukkot 55b), the 70 bulls represent offerings that are made on behalf of the 70 nations of the world. Rabbi Hertz adds that these sacrifices were intended to make atonement for all of the world. We are left, however, with the following question: why should the Israelites be making sacrifices of thanksgiving on behalf of alien nations?

Perhaps it is because Israel is to be a light to the nations, and bring to them knowledge of God’s goodness and graciousness. From this perspective, we are to serve as role models for the rest of humanity.

On the other hand, perhaps if we pair the sacrificial excesses with the flimsy Sukkot we dwell in, we can see another kind of connection: our fate as Jews is to be dispersed throughout the nations of the world, living in peril but under the protection of God’s wings, as represented by the Sukkah. As such, we have a responsibility both to ourselves and to the nations to proclaim thanks for God’s bounty at the time of harvest.

Shabbat Shalom, and Chag Sameach

Why Be a Scapegoat?

With Yom Kippur coming so shortly after Shabbat, I thought this week I would focus on a Yom Kippur quandary: what is the meaning of the scapegoat ritual?

Leviticus 16:7-8 “Aaron shall take the two he-goats and let them stand before Adonai at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting; and he shall place lots upon then two goats, one marked for Adonai and one marked for Azazel.”

These verses describe the Yom Kippur ritual of the sacrifice of the scapegoat. The purpose of Yom Kippur, of course, is to atone for our sins. This ancient atonement ritual, which is the origin of the term "scapegoat" (painfully recorded in Jewish history) to us may seem to be some kind of hocus-pocus, mumbo-jumbo. Even for a religion which was based on a sacrificial cult, this ceremony has overtones of magic and is difficult to comprehend, at least with our "modern" sensibilities. Two identical goats are placed together, and after drawing lots, one is sacrificed (“marked for Adonai”) and the other is sent into the wilderness (or, in another understanding of the text, pushed over the cliff, to “Azazel”). Both wind up dead. What does this imply about Yom Kippur and atonement?
One interpretation is that just as one of the goats is holy and the other is profane, we have committed sins against God (the holy) and against our fellow human beings (the profane). So the ritual is kind of metaphor for our attempts at atonement on Yom Kippur.

On a more metaphysical plane, since both goats end up dead, what really matters is what is intended by their death (glorification of God or a useless death). This, in turn, suggests that atonement is really all about intention: whether we atone sincerely (the holy) or just go through the motions (the profane). Whichever path we take, the verses serve to remind us that while our conceptual world may be divided between the holy and the profane, in actuality we live in a world where we constantly encounter and struggle with the profane. The holy seems a distant goal. How can we direct ourselves with the proper intention (kavanah) towards repentance and atonement?

On Yom Kippur, we “afflict our souls,” we fast, and we spend the day in prayer and contemplation, striving for the proper intention for t'shuvah (repentance). Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel understood t’shuvah to imply a dialogue. On Yom Kippur we stand before a caring God who asks the questions; we have to search into ourselves and offer the answers. Heschel suggests that as much as we are in search of God, God is in search of us, and we need to allow Him to find us. Knowing that God seeks us as we seek Him can help us achieve a proper intention towards atonement and repentance. This is a comforting thought on Yom Kippur, when judgment for the coming year is sealed in the Book of Life.

May you and all those you hold dear be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

A Returning of Strength

Dear Friends and Family:

We each anticipate Rosh Hashanah in a variety of ways, from the special psalms and shofar blasts during the preceding month of Elul, to the cooking and cleaning which are a part of family celebrations. At many of my colleagues’ workplaces, they have been thinking about the holiday for months and........ well, enough said!

I find comfort in the communal rituals of the season, and in the familial and personal rituals of preparation for the Yamim Noraim. We anticipate what is to come, be it the melodies of the holidays, the reunions with friends and family, or the texts we encounter and re-encounter each year.

In traditional congregations, on the first day we read the story of Sarah’s barrenness and the birth of Isaac. We then read of the expulsion of her maidservant Hagar and Ishmael, who posed a threat to Isaac’s inheritance. On the second day of Rosh Hashanah, we read the Akedah, the Binding of Isaac.

Why do we read these particular stories on Rosh Hashanah? On this day when we celebrate the birth of the world, the selected texts imply that we, mere mortals, cannot appreciate the enormity of Creation, and instead we are asked to examine the concept of God’s Plan through the lens of this one, dysfunctional family.

The story of Ishmael and Hagar is troubling: the text really says nothing to indicate that Ishmael is anything but a devoted son to Abraham (although the midrash is rich in stories trying to portray him as a harmful influence on Isaac). Sarah appears as a jealous and ungrateful person, and Abraham is a reluctant participant in Sarah’s rejection of Ishmael. This story of the separation of Ishmael and Isaac has echoes today, of course, in the never-ending Israeli-Arab conflict.

However, it is the story of the Binding of Isaac that, to me, remains at once supremely compelling and virtually incomprehensible. How can we reconcile on the one hand a God who orders the death of a beloved son, and on the other hand a God who listens to our prayers to “remember us for life?” Is the lesson of the Akedah that we are to accept God’s will without question? I think not.

I choose to focus on Abraham’s statement to the servants before ascending the mountain (“we will return”) as evidence that Abraham knew that God would not, could not, allow His demand to be fulfilled. In this light, Abraham knew that God only gives us challenges (“tests”) that we can overcome. Our strength and faith may be sorely tested by these ordeals, but we can survive them. That is the essence, I think, of Abraham's faith.

As such, we can look at t’shuvah (repentance, from the verb meaning “turn”) not only as a turning away from our errors, but also as a “re-turning” (in the sense of restoration) to the strength we have lost in our on-going battles against life’s challenges. As we look to the coming New Year, we need a "restoration" of strength to meet the “tests” ahead, and we can rejoice in a tradition that tells us that God will not give us “tests” we cannot overcome.

May we all go from strength to strength in the coming year. Shabbat Shalom and Shannah Tovah.

The Land of Redemption

Nitzavim/ Va Yelech
Précis: Moses comes toward the conclusion of his final address to the People: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. In his final words to the People, Moses recounts the wonders Adonai has done for the people, and calls upon them to remain loyal to God through the covenant. The extent of the covenantal relationship is explained: it will survive exile and captivity with a return to the Land. The Torah is an “open book” that is accessible to all the People. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and they are to choose their path. Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life, so that they may inherit the Land which God has sworn to their forefathers.
In Va Yelech, as the death of Moses approaches, he transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua as his successor. Moses orders regular reading of the Law, and then transfers the written Torah into the hands of the Levites for safekeeping, in the Ark of the Covenant.

Deuteronomy 30:3 “Then the Lord your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where the Lord your God has scattered you."

JTS Chancellor Schorsch writing in his Parashah Commentary (9/11/04) focuses on this verse. After the terrors of the prior parasha's curses, we come to this promise: after exile, God will bring the People back to the land.

As a result of the destruction by the Assyrians in the 8th Century BCE of the Northern Kingdom and its 10 tribes, that part of the Jewish People was lost forever. The promise of this verse does not seem to have been fulfilled for the 10 Lost Tribes.

When the first Temple was destroyed in Jerusalem, and the Babylonian Exile began in 586 B.C.E. how could this remnant (Kingdom of Judah) of the Jewish People survive, given that their central mode of worship and identification, the Temple itself, was now gone, and they were faced with the kind of exile which ended the existence of their Northern brethren? How could they keep their belief in the promise of this verse?

Writing 1,500 years later, Rashi offered an answer: As Schorsch explains, “the Hebrew verb for restore ("God will restore your fortunes") is intransitive rather than transitive, meaning that "God will come back with you out of captivity…’From this verse our sages learned that God's presence (shekhina) dwelled with Israel in the torment of its exile. And when they were redeemed, it is as if God ordered redemption for Himself, that He would return with them’."

The midrash cited by Rashi is an expression of God’s compassion and identification with Israel. God suffers along with Israel. This helped the Jews of Babylonia to re-imagine Jewish theology: God was not limited to the Land of Israel, but was Universal. God could be worshipped anywhere. It is ironic that the birth of Judaism can be traced to the loss of the Jewish national home. The sacrificial cult was to be replaced by study of Torah, acts of righteousness, and prayer. This was the beginning of the change from a sacrificial cult centered on sacred space to a religion centered on sacred text, which, over the following thousand years, came to fruition with the Mishnah and Talmud.

This is not, in any way, to diminish the centrality of the Land of Israel from the religious life of Israel: in fact, it is the central point of the restoration of the “fortune” as promised in this week’s verse. What it also shows is that Jews did not await the redemption from Babylon passively: they created a religious way of life and communal institutions that prepared them to fulfill the promise of this verse: to be restored to the land from among all of the peoples among where God had scattered them.

We in the Diaspora have a repsonsibility to support the restoration of the Jewish People to the land. As we come to the New Year, let's resolve to make sure that our support for Israel remains constant.

In Honor of Labor and Torah

This week’s reading coincides with Labor Day in the United States, a time when we should all remember that it is because of laboring men and women in general, and the labor movement in particular, that we live in a society where ideas like minimum wages, health, safety and child labor laws are assumed to be there because they are the “right thing.” These, along with Social Security, the 40 hour work week, Medicare and (in great part) Civil Rights for all are the legacy of the labor movement.

Whether one maintains that labor unions are “no longer needed” or (as I maintain) essential for the economic security of all working people, one cannot reasonably deny the incredibly beneficial impact that the unions have had on American society.

As a segue, this week’s reading has something to say on the importance of protecting the rights of the powerless and unprotected.


Ki Tavo
Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8

Précis: The parasha continues, from the last reading, numerous religious concerns regarding the formation of a civil and moral community (including tithes of first fruits, and tithes to support the Levites). The People are promised that if they follow God’s instructions, they will be transformed into a holy people. They are further instructed that they have a choice in their own destiny: there are blessings and curses (The Admonition), and they must to choose between them, and bear the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that Adonai had done for them in bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land.


Deuteronomy 27:18-19 “Cursed be he who misdirects a blind man on his way, and the People shall say Amen. Cursed be he who subverts the right of the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and the People shall say Amen.”

The scene is set: the 12 tribes are to arrive in the Promised Land, and set themselves on two facing mountains: Gezeirim and Ebal. Then, the Levitical Priests pronounce a series of curses to which the People respond “Amen.”
As noted in Etz Hayim, the 11 specific sins listed among the curses are commonly committed in secret, or they are difficult for the victim to publicize the sin. The People say “Amen” as each sin is recited, as a way of saying, in effect “we agree” and also as a way of promising not to commit the error themselves.
In Biblical literature, the phrase “the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow” is often shorthand for those within society who lack a protector. In a nomadic society, or even in the early urban society of our ancestors, an individual without a protector was subject to attack and to harm from all comers (see, for example, Lot’s protection of the “travelers” in his home in Sodom before its destruction). It is our responsibility to avoid harming the powerless and the unprotected. Neither are we permitted to stand idly by when they suffer.
On Labor Day Weekend, we should remember that with union membership at historically low levels (because of the power of anti-union management to prevent organizing under existing labor laws, in my humble opinion) many employees in America are powerless and unprotected. The right to "protected activity" - the right of individual employees to join together to fight for security and improvements of their wages, hours, and conditions of employment – is exactly the kind of “protection” that our ancestors were urged to provide when they stood on Gezeirim and Ebal.
And the People shall say “Amen.”

Shabbat Shalom, and happy Labor Day

Friends, Enemies and Biblical Literalism

Ki Tetze
Deuteronomy 21:10 - 25:19

Précis: The parasha might be subtitled, “entering society” because it goes into great lengths to describe the creation of a just and moral society. It begins with the phrase “when you go forth” (ki tetze) to battle, and explains the rules for the treatment of captive women. This parasha, according to Maimonides, contains more commandments than any other - more than 70 of the 613 contained in the Torah. Laws concerning the rights of first-born and dealing with disobedient children follow. The next section concerns care for corpses, restoration of lost property, and kindness to animals. A mixed assortment of commands, the source of many rabbinic interpretations, include requirements that there be sex-distinct clothing; that mother birds not be separated from their eggs; that roof-tops have parapets; that seeds not be mixed in a field, and that “tzitzit” (fringes) be worn on garments. Laws related to marriage, adultery, maintaining the ritual purity of the camp, charging interest, vows, divorce, usury, and justice to the widow, orphan, and stranger are listed. The parasha concludes with commands for the kind treatment of animals and Levirate marriage.

Deuteronomy 23:8-9 “You shall not abhor an Edomite, for he is your kinsman.”
Deuteronomy 25:17-19 “Remember what Amalek did to you as you came out of Egypt; how he struck those in the rear when you were faint and weary. Therefore, when Adonai your God has given you rest from your enemies in the Land… you will blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; you will not forget.”

The two verses cited above create something of a quandary for the modern reader. We are reminded in this parasha that war is coming – and war will be so terrible that many restrictions are placed on how that war is to be conducted.

And yet, in the midst of this preparation for war, a war in which we are to eradicate the Amonites and the Moabites from the land (23:8-9), we are reminded that we are not to hate our arch-enemies, the Edomites, because they are "kinsmen" ("brother" may be a more precise translation). After all, Edom is considered to be the decedents of Esau, twin brother of Jacob. (Adding to the confusion is the fact that the Sages, writing in times of Roman persecution, used Edom as a euphemism for Rome, ascribing all that was evil in the world to Edom.) So special consideration – even in time of war - is to be afforded to Edom.

But in the same parasha, we read again (as we do on Shabbat Zachor) of the need to blot out the remembrance of Amalek, which in our tradition is the embodiment of all things evil. Even Haman is a descendant of Amalek.

How does this relate to the current events of our world? We, as American Jews and as supporters of Israel, could ask whether we must consider the Palestinians our brothers, like the Edomites, and refuse to “abhor” them, or whether we should consider them like Amalek, who deserve no quarter and whose depravity takes them outside of any chance of reconciliation. Can Fatah be Edom, and Hamas be the modern Amalek?

We could ask that question, but if we do, we run a terrible risk of attempting to make a 21st century political decision based on conflicting Biblical verses. To do so is to fall into the same trap that literalists and fundamentalists fall when they find a position and then seek Biblical support for their conclusion.

I submit that the Torah offers lessons to guide our thinking, but that we cannot look at a single verse in isolation and base a complex political decision on a single verse. While it may be expediant to find Biblical support for a position we have already decided is the correct position, that is not the way to be guided by Torah.

We read here that there are at least some enemies who may not be hated, while there are others who are so depraved that even their memory must be erased. Perhaps decision makers need to remember that both verses appear in the same parasha, and that it is too facile to cite one verse and forget the other.

Seeking and Finding Justice:The Humanity of our Adversaries

Shoftim
Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9

Précis: The parasha Shoftim (literally, “judges”), begins with a commandment to Moses to establish judges for Israel. They are to decide cases brought before them and govern with fairness. The remainder of the parasha includes warnings against false testimony, idol worship, as well as rules for kings. We find warnings against false prophets, magicians, soothsayers and witches, and read about the requirements for cities of refuge. In short, the parasha is devoted to ways to create a civil, moral society for the People as they enter the Promised Land.

Deuteronomy 16:20 “Justice, justice you shall pursue that you may live and inherit the land which Adonai your God gives to you.”

This famous phrase (in Hebrew: tzedek, tzedek, tirdof) is more than a challenge to live in a “just” society. As Rabbi Hertz points out, the Jewish ideal of justice is “the awe-inspired respect for the personality of others, and their inalienable rights.” Because we are all created in God’s image, he reasons, “Judaism requires that human personality be respected in every human being - in the female heathen prisoner of war, in the delinquent, even in the criminal condemned to death.” In short, where there is no justice, there is no recognition of God.

As Rabbi Plaut notes, the Hebrew word for justice (tzedek) is almost identical to tzedakah (giving to others, or charity). When a Jew helps another person who is less fortunate, he is not “giving charity;” rather, the Jew is seeks to achieve justice.

Justice demands that we consider all other humans as beings worthy of our respect. Sadly, in the political debate we see now underway in the United States about health care reform, the loss of civility in discourse, and the attacks by the extremes on the bona fides of their opponents, miserably fail to meet the biblical tenet of mutual respect. One’s political opponents – even when misguided or speaking deceitfully – are still human beings who deserve our recognition as fellow human beings. When we treat each other with suspicion, mistrust, and hatred, we have forgotten the humanity of those with whom we disagree.

Justice also demands that the Israelis continue to see their opponents – both domestic and foreign - as human beings. Nothing is gained, and much is lost, when Israelis distrust and attack the patriotism of those with whom they disagree inside the country, or when fear and hatred prevent their recognition of Palestinian humanity. Certainly, Palestinians and other Arabs fail to recognize the essential humanity of the Israelis when they blame Israel for all of the evils which persist in the Arab world.

This important ethical principle – the essential humanity of every human being, created in God’s image - is the foundation for all interpersonal relationships, within families, in congregations, or in larger communities. When we respect our fellow human beings by pursuing justice, we are recognizing God’s existence in our daily lives.

Longing for Everything

R’eih
Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17

Précis: Moses begins by saying “Behold (r’eih) I set before you a blessing and a curse this day.” God sets the blessing and curse before the people, depending on whether or not they obey the commandments. A concern with idolatry permeates the ensuing verses. The parasha explains that there will be only one site for sacrifices. A test for a false prophet and the punishment of an idolatrous city are included. The parasha then shifts to other subjects: the prohibition against self-mutilation, the biblical basis of the laws of kashrut, tithing so that the Levite, the "stranger, the fatherless, and the widow” are taken care of. Remission of debts in the seventh year, care of the poor, freeing of Hebrew slaves in the seventh year, and the dedication of the firstborn of cattle and flock to God are discussed, as are the commandments for the observance of Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot.


Deut. 15:4 - "There shall be no needy among you."
Deut. 15:11- "There will never cease to be needy ones in your land, which is why I command you to open your hand to the poor."


In the space of only seven verses, the Torah reading seems to give us two diametrically opposed ideas: there will be no needy among you, but there will never cease to be needy ones in your land. How are we to reconcile these statements?

As usual, the Sages saw the same textual problems we see today, and had a solution for apparent ambiguity. The Talmud offers an alternative translation for the first verse: they read it to mean "there shall be no needy within you " (Baba Metzia 33b). From this interpretation, they infer a mitzvah to earn a sufficient living to support oneself and one's family. To underscore that charity begins at home, they note that one may not impoverish oneself by giving too much charity, and in fact they establish a maximum charitable level of 20% of income (Ketubot 50a).

During the current era of economic uncertainty, it is unlikely that pulpit rabbis will be haranguing their congregations not to impoverish themselves by giving too much tzedakah. But they should be talking about the necessity of helping others who are in dire circumstances. As is stated in the Shulchan Aruch (the 16th century legal code), everyone is required to give tzedakah – even those who are indigent. Giving to others is such a basic concept that we are commanded to give sufficient alms to the poor so that they, too, can give alms to other poor persons.

This latter concept seems to be derived from the second verse we study this week. As noted by Rabbi Lauren Eichler Berkun in the JTS Chancellor's Weekly Commentary (8/3/02), the language used in this verse is very instructive. The Hebrew word used for a “needy person” is "ev'yon" and not the normal word for a poor person ("oni"). Rashi, she notes, explains that "ev'yon" comes from a Hebrew word meaning "longing or desire." Therefore, according to Rashi, an "ev'yon" is one "who longs for everything."

When one is in economic distress, one is also often in emotional distress: one can “long for everything” to restore stability and security. But when we long for everything we can lose the ability to see the needs of others and to respond to their needs. The second verse we study this week encourages us to understand those "longings" within us - so that we can be more generous to our families, friends, colleagues and community members who need our support.

Is it Really So Simple?

Ekev
Deuteronomy 7:12 - 11:25

Précis: Moses continues his recapitulation of the law to the people, reminding them to be obedient to God’s laws as they struggle with the Canaanites. Moses describes in detail all of the blessings which God had bestowed upon them, and commands them to bless and thank God for the bounty they receive. On the other hand, they should learn the lesson of rebelliousness of their fathers, including the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses reminds the people that he brought down a second set of tablets, which require their continued obedience to God.


Deuteronomy 10:12-13 “And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God demand of you? Only this: to revere the Lord your God, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, keeping the Lord's commandments and laws, which I enjoin upon you today, for your good.”

In recent weeks, we have seen how supposedly “observant” rabbis have been caught in sting operations involving everything from bribery to money laundering to the sale of human organs. I am fairly confident that those accused pray frequently – and perhaps with sincere fervor. But if they are indeed guilty of these crimes, they have been guilty of a greater sin: the willful ignoring of the simple requirement of the verse we read this week – to walk in God’s path – by participating in the complexities of ritual practices while they ignore real world ethical behavior. Moreover, it is unfortunate that these individuals are only the latest in a line of “observant” Jews to run afoul of legal (and ethical) behavior. Agriprocessors comes to mind in this connection.

Nor are these failures unique to the Orthodox community. Reform and Conservative clergy have in recent years been found guilty of crimes ranging from child abuse to fraud to murder, and examples of criminal conduct are all too common among the Israeli government leadership.

How can we begin to understand the failure of our leaders to follow the “simple” rule set forth in our verse this week?

Writing in the JTS Chancellor’s Weekly Commentary (8/23/08) Rabbi Marc Wolf took note of the concept of “Simplexity” – the idea that very complex systems can appear on the surface to be very simple. He notes that many new technological gadgets, like an iPhone, are so intuitive that they don’t even come with instruction manuals! Yet “simplexity” is not so simple: what may look simple on the surface may be very complex, and that which appears complex may really be quite simple in reality. (Physicists among the readers, if any, may here cite Einstein’s most famous equation of E=m2 as an example of how an incredibly complex universe can be simply explained.)

Returning to our verse, we ask whether having a good relationship with God really can be that simple? “Only this”? If so, why do we have the Mishnah, the Talmud, various codes of law, etc. etc., which all seem to make the simple so incredibly complex.

Rabbi Wolf suggests that the answer itself is pretty “simple.” We understand that the text tells us to walk in God’s way, and we ask, “how?” It is about the “how” that our sages have labored. They tell us that the “how” is through observing the mitzvot which appear throughout the Torah (and by further extension, through the Mishnah, Talmud, and their own exegeses).

I would submit, however, that such an interpretation of “how” can lead to a mindless, rote repetition of actions which, being separated from their holy purpose, become the empty ritual about which the prophets (particularly Isaiah) castigated the people. The so-called “observant” Jew who is fastidious about following the detail of ritual life may well miss the forest for the trees: the reason we recite brachot when taking actions throughout the day (upon awaking, washing, eating, etc.) is not for the sake of obeying a command but rather is a simple reminder of God’s presence in our lives. The reason we walk in God’s path is to create and participate in a moral, ethical community.

To be Jewish is to wrestle with God. Perhaps we are horrified by the failings of Jewish leaders not only because we expect “more” of them, but because we recognize that we may share the same human failings. Perhaps we should feel compassion for the latest group of Jews to run afoul of civil law. But we should also be reminded this week that 2,000 years of complexity can obscure our simple obligation to follow God’s path.

All You Need is Love

Va'ethanan

Deuteronomy 3:23 - 7:11


Précis: Moses continues the recapitulation of travels and urges the People to follow the laws and commandments of Adonai. Moses pleads with God that he be allowed to enter the Promised Land, and is refused. Moses reminds the people that God was angry with him on account of their sinful ways, and that this was why he, Moses, was refused permission to enter the Land. Moses continues with a restatement of the Ten Commandments, and follows with an articulation of the basic statement of our theology: the Sh’ma. Moses then warns the people against the peril of forgetfulness, particularly of the Exodus, and cautions against idol worship of gods of the nations they will conquer.


Deuteronomy 6:5 - “You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.”

This familiar passage from the paragraph following the Sh’ma poses a host of serious philosophical issues. How can one be commanded to love, an emotion which seems to emanate totally from within? As Rabbi Plout points out in his Torah Commentary, love is a significant theme of the Book of Deuteronomy, presupposing a reciprocal relationship between Israel and God. How are we to express this love?

Rashi suggests that we are to obey His commands in love, and not though fear. He agrees with earlier commentators who held that love for the Creator is “natural” for human beings. But there are distractions and obstacles which interfere with our ability to “love” God.

Franz Rosenzweig noted that there are three times in the Torah than we are commanded to love: twice in Leviticus (19:18,34) when we are commanded to love our neighbors and the strangers who dwell among us, and here in Deuteronomy, when we are commanded to love God. From this, he explains that only after we have learned to love other people can we come to love Adonai.

This may, in fact, be the clue we are looking for: we “love” God not in some detached, emotional way, but rather, we express our love for God through our actions. When we treat our fellow human beings with respect and honor, when we feed the hungry and clothe the naked, we show our love for God.

A Midrash on Judge Sotomayor

D’varim
Deuteronomy 1:1 - 3:22

Précis: This week, we begin reading the Book of Deuteronomy (d’varim). It takes the form of a series of lectures by Moses to the People as they prepare to enter the Land. Together, these instructions constitute Moses’ farewell address. D’varim is sometimes called the “Mishneh Torah”, literally, the “second teaching of the Torah” (this is where we get the Greek name of the Book) because (at least on the surface) it contains many repetitions of previously enunciated laws. The Book has a strong focus on the centrality of the Temple in the Promised Land, as well as many of other ritual activities which became the center of Jewish life: recitation of the Sh’ma, birkat ha’mazon, Shabbat observance, wearing tallit and t’fillin, reciting kiddush on Shabbat, and placing mezuzot on doorposts.




The Book is also referred to as the “Priestly Code” by those analysts who ascribe its origin to the Priests of the First Temple era. However, in addition to descriptions of sacrifices and Temple routine, D’varim has two other significant themes: the cosmic relationship between God and the People Israel, and the pursuit of social justice in terms of care for the “poor, the widow, and the orphan.”


The metaphor of the journey on display in this Book is an ancient one. Classical narratives (for example, The Iliad, The Odyssey) use the heroic struggles of an individual, facing grave dangers and travails, to examine the development of a human being. The central figure is usually alone, frequently tested by the gods, and, if he (almost always a “he”!) ultimately succeeds, he becomes a role model for what a person might hope to accomplish. These ancient sagas, found in cultures throughout the world, suggest that the greater the struggle, the more impressive the triumph.


What we have in this Book is a “foundation account” – a story that sets out the archetype that future generations are expected to live with and understand. In our “saga”, instead of the external challenges examined in other ancient stories, our account focuses on the dangers of lacking faith, of lacking trust in God, and of being willing to quit the struggle. The premise of the Book - that God will, in the end, redeem the People and bring them (or restore them) to the Promised Land – is as important to us today as it was to the ancients. And for modern readers, understanding what has come before us – what our own history is, and what kind of culture has developed from those historical imperatives - is a key to understanding the environment in which we work, and live.



On yet another level, we can look at this as a kind of archetype homecoming saga. Like the Odyssey, or the Gilgamesh saga, or the Wizard of Oz, much of this Book is about “getting home.” What distinguishes this Book, however, are the detailed instructions about how to create a civil society once we do get home: how we are to relate to each other (especially the most vulnerable in our society) how we are to relate to God, and how we are to relate to the Land.


The first parasha recounts the four decades of travel through the wilderness, repeats the story of the spies, deals with the appointment of judges, victories in the wilderness against enemies, and how the conquered land is to be divided. This parasha is read every year on Shabbat Hazon, the Shabbat prior to the fast of Tisha B’Av. Since looking at history is a major theme of the parasha, it is certainly an appropriate reading prior to this holiday.



Deut. 1:17 – “You shall not be partial in judgment: hear out low and high alike; fear no man, for judgment is God’s.”


In recent weeks, many of us have been paying close attention to the confirmation hearings of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the United States Supreme Court. Issues of the role of the Court viz a viz Congress, basic constitutional issues, so-called “judicial activism” and how judges should find justice were talked about at length, through the lens of political posturing that is part of the American system. (I know it’s bad, but as has been said in another context, it’s better than all of the rest.)


The verse we read in this week’s parasha cited above tells us the Jewish principle of judging: hear out both sides, regardless of status. It doesn’t take a brilliant judge to decide a dispute between two parties who are essentially equal in status, wealth or claim of right. Special skills are needed, however, in the real world, where few disputes are of such a kind. A truly just society makes sure that equality is observed in its judicial functioning.


The Rabbis of the Midrash, writing in the first centuries of the Common Era, address the conflict between “equal justice” and the fact that there will always be societal members who are various points along the scale of honor, status, and wealth. In Sifrei D’varim 17, they note:

Lest one say: “How can I damage the honor of this rich person for a mere dinar? I will rule in his favor and then when he goes outside I will say to him, ‘Give the poor man the dinar because you really owe him.’” Scripture therefore teaches, “Hear out low and high alike.”




The passage suggests that a judge has been faced with a dispute between a rich man and a poor man, and has determined that the poor man is, in fact, entitled to recover a “dinar” in damages (a very trivial sum). The judge knows, however, that entering a finding against the rich man could damage his honor (“kavod”) even though it would be the right thing to do. So the judge considers a “work-around.” Maybe he can protect the rich man’s reputation and make sure that the poor man gets his due compensation “off the record!” The rabbis reject this concept. The verse they site requires them to treat all parties to the dispute alike, regardless of background or status.


The rabbis are not ignoring the “kavod” of the rich man: they are, in fact, assuring the “kavod” (dignity, or reputation) of the poor man by requiring the judge to abide by the Biblical command. Achieving the correct result is a necessary but insufficient definition of justice; without maintaining the dignity of all parties, regardless of status or wealth, the Jewish ideal of justice cannot be achieved.




I would suggest that this standard is indeed an appropriate one for those in the United States Senate to consider as they go about their constitutional duties of advice and consent to the President’s nomination to the Supreme Court. Hopefully a "wise Latina" understands the need to maintain the dignity of all who are affected by her decisions.

Honesty, Honesty You shall pursue

My title this week is a take-off on the famous phrase from Leviticus, "Justice, Justice You shall pursue." Honesty is an essential - perhaps the essential - basis for all human interaction, and for the creation of a civil society.


Matot- Massei
Numbers 30:2 - 36:13

Précis: Matot begins with a speech to the heads (matot) of the tribes concerning the importance and sacredness of vows. The parasha then returns to the war with the Midianites, including the purification of the warriors and division of the booty. The tribes of Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh express their desire to dwell East of the Jordon, and are permitted to do so, after promising to enter the Land to help the rest of the People defeat the Canaanites.
The Book of Numbers ends with Massei. “These are the stages (massei) of the journey” which the Israelites made through the desert. In a recapitulation, all of the twenty stops along the way are identified. The Israelites are reminded to drive out the Canaanites from the land. The Levitical cities are described, as well as the cities of refuge. Just prior to their invasion of the land, the laws differentiating between murder and killing are repeated. The parasha ends with a summary of the commandments and ordinances.

Numbers 30:2-3 “And Moses spoke to the heads of the tribes of Israel, saying: ‘This is a thing that Adonai has commanded: ‘When a man vows a vow to Adonai, or swears an oath to bind his soul with a bond, he shall not break his word, but will do according to what comes from his mouth.’”

These verses are very rich in potential teaching and discussion.



First, why is it that these instructions are made to the heads of the tribes, and not to the People as a whole, as is usually the case with commandments? The notes in Etz Hayim, citing Hatam Sofer, give a rationale: “People in high public office are more often tempted to make promises that they cannot keep.” We all, unfortunately, have knowledge of public officials who promise more than they can delivery, or who simply lie to the public.

Another aspect of this interpretation is that when our leaders fail to keep their promises, the people are more willing to accept subsequent failures. In such cases, the leaders lessen the respect that the people have for honesty. (Is this why America is the land of the second, third, and fourth chances?)

On yet another level, think about our Jewish institutional settings. I would submit that these verses provide a tremendously important lesson for those who are in the leadership of any Jewish organization: never make a promise you can’t keep – it’s the surest way to lose one’s credibility.

Second, the text explicitly concerns vows made to God. It may also include, according to the sage, Ibn Ezra, vows made between people based on God’s name (“bind his soul”). The seriousness of these vows was so great that tradition counseled against making them. For us, these verses are a reminder of the importance of keeping one’s word. Honesty is the basis of all successful human relations, whether personal or in the work place. There is an obvious lesson for modern politicians, for Jewish communal employees, and for parents and children as well.

Pinchas: July 11, 2009
Numbers 25:10 - 30:1

Précis: This parasha begins with a reward for Pinchas’ zealotry in slaying the offending adulterers at the conclusion of the previous parasha. (His reward: the hereditary High Priesthood for his family). The parasha continues with a second census conducted by Moses, with war being declared against Midian. The laws of inheritance are amended to provide, at least in certain cases, for daughters to inherit their fathers’ estates. Joshua is appointed the successor to Moses as leader of the People. The parasha then shifts to details of daily sacrifices, offerings for the new moon, and Festivals.


28:1-2 “And Adonai spoke to Moses saying, ‘Command the children of Israel, and you shall say to them, ‘You shall bring forward my sacrifices to me, my food, for my offering by fire, my pleasant smell, at its appointed time.’”

Do we really believe in a God who needs “food?” Who enjoys a “pleasant smell?” Have Jews ever really believed so? The anthropomorphic nature of these lines is quite obvious, and was a cause of concern for the earliest rabbinic interpretation. Former Jewish Theological Seminary Chancellor Schorsch calls this expression a "linguistic fossil” - a phrase which is embedded in language but no longer has a current meaning. We have examples of this in the English language as well, such as our “going to the ends of the earth.” Even when anthropomorphic language was used in the Bible, he maintains, the language had already become a “fossil.” He argues that Jews had already left behind the idea that a God needed the sustenance of a sacrifice.

Do we believe in a God who needs ritual sacrifices, even after the termination of animal sacrifices almost 2,000 years ago? What do we make of those among the traditional Jewish community who pray for the restoration of animal sacrifices at a re-established Temple in Jerusalem?

The concept of “linguistic fossils” implies that over time, our rituals and words may have changing inflections, purposes or even meanings. Yet, the fact that the same words or rituals are still used imbues them with a direct link to an earlier time. In other words, the linguistic “fossil” provides an important sense of tradition and connection.

Chukat-Balak: July 4th, 2009

Numbers 19:1 – 25:9
This week, we read a double parasha. We also celebrate America’s independence, which serves to kick-off this particular d’var.

Précis: In Chukat, the parasha begins with a discussion about the Red Heifer, used for ritual purification after one comes into contact with a dead body. The reading returns to narrative with the death of Miriam, and the mourning for her by the people in the wilderness of Zin. With her death, the well of water disappears, and Moses strikes a rock to provide water to the People. Soon thereafter, Aaron also dies. The Israelites engage in warfare with the Canaanites in a series of battles which conclude the parasha.

In Balak, the King of Moab is fearful because of the success of the Israelites against other Canaanite peoples, and he hires a local magician named Balaam to curse the Israelites. Balaam begins the journey riding upon his ass, which refuses to proceed and actually talks to Balaam, protesting Balaam’s foul treatment of the poor beast. Balaam then sees an image of an angel, and refuses to complete Balak’s mission. Balak reiterates his command to Balaam to curse the Israelites, but instead Balaam pronounces a blessing. The parasha ends with an interesting brief episode: Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, sees an Israelite having sexual relations with a Midianite woman (a violation of a commandment not to fraternize with the Canaanites), and he slays both of them and, in the process, staves off a plague that had been threatening the Israelites.

Numbers 24:5 “How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel.”
Balaam, called upon to curse the Jewish People, instead pronounces a blessing. These words form the basis for the traditional prayer one says upon entrance into a synagogue (Ma tovu….). In the text, the expression is one of astonishment at the encampment of Israel in the wilderness. In our prayer books, the words form a prayer of gratitude for the sustenance and maintenance of the congregation.
This week, we celebrate the best that is America. In important ways, the United States has been a source of sustenance and maintenance for the Jewish People. Without overstating it (and without total disregard for the negatives which are certainly part of our American-Jewish experience), few can doubt that America has come closest to being the “Goldena Medina (Golden Land)” than any other location in the long Diaspora of the Jewish People. Here we are free to worship as Jews, live our lives in amazingly different ways, and to love, criticize, defend and support America according to our own hearts.
When we as Jews celebrate America’s birthday, we should make it a particular point to realize how fortunate we really are. In the long history of the Jewish People, we have rarely been so free to be what we want to be. One can say without hesitation, “How fair are your tents, O America.”