Can we find unity?

Vayechi

Genesis 47:28 - 50:26

Précis: As the Book of Genesis comes to a close, Jacob lived (yayechi) in the land of Egypt for 17 years and dies after giving a final, poetic, individualized ethical testament to each of his sons. In a great funeral procession, Joseph, his brothers, and Pharaoh and his court bring Jacob’s body to Machpela to be buried. At the end of the parasha, which is also the end of the Book of Genesis, Joseph, too, dies, after exacting a promise from his brothers and children to (eventually) bring his remains to the land of Israel as well.

            This week's reading ends the story of Jews as a family/clan, since we begin with the creation of the Jews as a nation in next week’s reading (Exodus).     

Genesis as a whole has a focus on family matters in general, and on sibling rivalry in particular. At the outset, we see that Cain and Abel, the first siblings, have a rivalry that results in murder. There are family rivalries explicit in the text (among Noah’s sons, between Lot and Abraham, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers) and there are additional rivalries hinted at as well (Rachel and Leah, Isaac and Ishmael). Most of these rivalries result in what we might call a “cold peace.” The Joseph story, however, seems different, as we see sibling rivalry overcome by repentance (t’shuvah) when the brothers offer themselves in place of Benjamin, and when at long last they apologize to Joseph for their treatment of him and the apology is accepted by Joseph as God’s will.

            Reading this parasha just a few weeks after celebrating Hanuka, when rivalry between Hellenist Jews and the Hasmoneans led to war, we can see a reason why the Sages were so focused on the family conflicts of Genesis, since these stories predicted the reality of a history of internal Jewish conflict.

            Sadly, despite our aspirations for “klal Yisrael,” we observe continuous religious disputes between and among our Jewish denominations in the United States.  The religious/political animosity we observe among the various contending constituencies in Israel is both horrifying and dangerous.  But if the sons of Jacob could peacefully reconcile, perhaps all of the current Children of Israel can find the unity which has so far eluded us. Is this foolish optimism, or is it a matter of hope? Optimism may be an aspect of one’s disposition, but hope is a matter of faith.  I prefer to hope for a new sense of unity among the Jewish People.

Joseph the Slave Master

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’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, making serfs of the Egyptian people, in exchange for the grain stored during the seven years of plenty. The Israelites prosper and multiply.

Genesis 47:14-21 “And Joseph collected all the silver to be found in Egypt and in Canaan in return for provisions they were buying…and all Egypt came to Joseph, saying ‘We cannot hide that the silver is gone and the animal stocks are now yours. Please take possession of our farmland…and we will be slaves to Pharaoh.’ And Joseph took possession of all the farmland of Egypt for Pharaoh…and one-fifth of the produce was for Pharaoh.’”

            In this week’s reading, when the famine he had predicted arrives, Joseph oversees the sale of the grain to the hungry Egyptians. They first pay cash for the grain, but their savings are soon gone. Joseph next collects their property as payment for food: their livestock and then their land. When even their land becomes Pharaoh’s personal property, the Egyptians offer to become Pharaoh’s slaves. 

            While today we recoil from the concept of accepting slavery under any circumstances, the text does not criticize Joseph as the organizer of this enslavement. In fact, the text makes the Egyptians responsible for their own slavery: they suggest in the quoted verses above the idea of their service, and later express gratitude when it is accepted (see 47:25: “You have saved our lives,” they said. “May we find favor in the eyes of our lord; we will be in bondage to Pharaoh”).

While our tradition considers Joseph to be righteous, there is a thought that the subsequent enslavement of the Israelites by the Egyptians was made easier because Joseph introduced the concept of slavery to Egypt, and this was turnaround as fair play. Moreover, the Egyptians become inheritors of a new inter-generational debt: the land is Pharaoh’s, and 20% of all produce is to be given to Pharaoh as part of a never-ending payment. Today we call this practice “share cropping” and in America it was a system which kept the poor in poverty for generation after generation. It's also a system which keeps many impoverished around the world today.

Joseph solved the problem of hunger by turning Pharaoh into an absolute ruler of a nation of slaves. In today’s world, control of food remains a tool of dictatorial authorities. When the world is awash in foodstuff, all too many remain hungry. Joseph’s response to hunger cannot be our own. Our choice should be to feed the hungry with a generous spirit, teach them to raise marketable crops, and support local and sustainable agriculture.

ISO Discernment and Wisdom

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 wine steward 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 promise to return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. Upon their return, the brothers (including Benjamin) meet the still-revealed Joseph. Joseph has their bags filled not only with grain but also with the money used to purchase the grain and has a gold cup hidden 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.’”

            Pharaoh’s dreams cannot be explained by his courtiers, and so Joseph is recalled from prison. Joseph foretells seven years of plenty, followed by seven of famine; he suggests that Pharaoh appoint a man of discernment and wisdom ("navon ve-hakham") to see Egypt through the ensuing years. Why two attributes? Ramban suggests that these terms relate to distinct kinds of learning: (1) the ability to set goals and (2) how to apply knowledge to achieve those goals.

Leadership is more than the exercise of power; it also requires knowledge that can be applied properly and thoughtfully to appropriate circumstances.

The United States now faces a “fiscal cliff” and our economic future is uncertain. Israel has a temporary truce with Hamas and faces threats from all sides; the correct course of action to take appears unclear.

In both nations, we can hope that leaders of all parties and factions can come together and display the kind of discernment (through mutual goal setting) that Joseph demonstrated when he warned of the need to save surplus grain for seven years. We can pray that our leaders display the kind of wisdom Joseph showed to find ways to achieve the goals we so desperately seek.

Unfortunately, we do not seem to have a modern-day Joseph in either the United States nor in Israel who can stand up and make Joseph-like pronouncements. We have leaders in both nations who are seeking what is best, in their eyes, for each nation. Whether they can overcome the obstacles they face and attain real wisdom remains to be seen. During this celebration of Hanukah, we recall that a “great miracle happened there.” Miracles can still happen, both here and there.

Real Courage

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, creating additional concern (jealousy) on their part. 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.” 

            We then have an intervening story about Judah. He marries off his first son to Tamar. The son soon dies, and, the next son (Onan) is married to the widow (“levirate marriage”) and also promptly dies. Judah is loath 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 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.”

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….  A long time afterward… 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…{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  [third] son Shelah.’"

Rabbi Chaim Landau (MyJewishLearning.com, 12/12/11) asks why it was that the kings of Israel are descended from Judah, and not through Joseph’s offspring Menachem and Ephraim, or even through Reuvain, Jacob’s first born son.

            In these verses, Tamar assumes the dress of a prostitute and seduces her father-in-law Judah after the death of her two husbands. Judah succumbs to temptation. Joseph, you may recall, when propositioned by Potiphar’s wife, refused her advances. Judah gives in to temptation while Joseph resisted.  Earlier in the narrative, Judah suggests selling Joseph from the pit into which he had been cast to passing slavers. He is the leader of the brothers, but does not try to save Joseph and return him to their father. These hardly seem to be the actions of a proper leader, let alone the father of future kings.

            Given these faults, why did Judah’s descendants merit the kingship of Israel? The rabbinic literature suggests that a great leader is not one who is perfect, but rather is one who fails, repents, and then recovers. Midrash teaches that Judah’s admission of his relations with Tamar was received with blessings in Heaven, with the angels intoning "Blessed are you, Lord, who is gracious and forgives repeatedly" (a phrase which has been incorporated into the daily Amidah). One who truly repents has the courage to admit failings, and to emerge the stronger for it.

            We live in an age where leaders (congregational and political) rarely own up to their faults. From “I am not a crook” to ”no crime was committed” we have observed time and again a refusal by leaders to admit errors.  Great leaders demonstrate the courage that is needed to acknowledge when they have erred. This is the rabbinic explanation for Judah’s claim to royalty. This is the kind of courage for which we all need to strive.

Jacob & Esau, Hamas & Israel

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 he 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 33:4   “And Esau ran to meet Jacob, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him; and they wept.”

            After decades of contention and separation, Jacob and Esau reconcile. They may not be close, but they have found a modus vivendi, a way to coexist. What has changed? How can these two, who have been at odds since birth, embrace and weep together?

            During childhood, they were rivals for their parent’s love and attention. They lusted for what the other possessed (Jacob wanted a birthright, Esau wanted Jacob’s porridge; we can safely assume that Esau longed for his mother’s approval with equal fervor to Jacob’s pursuit of a blessing from Isaac).  When they meet after a 20 year separation, they have each become men of substance, wealth, and power. They no longer seem to want what the other has. The ritual offering and refusal of gifts which follows their reunion is more than Middle Eastern niceties; they no longer desire what the other possesses. The sin of envy they shared long ago has been replaced by a new contentment. They understand the statement of Pirke Avot: "Who is rich? One who is happy with his portion."

            The story of Jacob and Esau is one about the power of reconciliation. Jacob’s fear that reconciliation was not possible evaporates in a mutual embrace and shared tears. 

            In recent weeks, we have seen another round of fighting between Hamas in Gaza and Israel. It’s not too far of a metaphor to compare the two to Esau and Jacob, since both sides claim Abraham as an ancestor. While Israel stands ready to reconcile as Jacob (Israel) was, Hamas is not able to come to terms with Israel in the way Esau did in our text. As PM Netanyahu was recently quoted, “If Hamas puts down their weapons, there will be peace; if Israel puts down its weapons, there will be no Israel.”

            On a more personal level, we often fear attempts to reconcile, perhaps because of another fear: the fear of being rejected once again. Yet, when we find the inner strength to ask for forgiveness from another, we may be surprised when our feelings are reciprocated by those we have wronged.

Climbing the Ladder

Vayetze

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 Rachel’s hand. After the 14 years, Jacob works for Laban for another 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 28:12 “And he dreamed, and behold, a ladder was with its bottom on the earth, and the top reached towards heaven; and angels of Adonai were ascending and descending on it.”

The ladder of Jacob’s dream is a metaphor for a deeply important message: God is connected to the world. The ladder is a connection between heaven and earth, and the angels going up and coming down act as God’s messengers between the two realms.  Jacob’s dream gives a glimpse of what we desperately hope to be true: that God cares about what transpires in our mundane world.

            As my teacher Rabbi Lyle Fishman has often suggested, one’s life as a Jew should be looked upon as a ladder as well. Ladders call for climbing. One rung, and then another. One step and then another to follow. This can be true in our ritual lives, when we decide to adopt a ritual from our tradition which we have not previously observed. It is just as true in our “ethical” lives, as we strive to be better leaders, children, parents, spouses, and community members.

            A ladder’s structure serves to hold it together while providing us with a way up.  The ladder of Jacob’s dream is not only for angels, but for us. All we have to do is climb.

Ancient Hatred

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. Their childhood is omitted from narrative. We learn that Jacob was a quiet man while 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 (or lentils). 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 threatens Jacob and Rebecca urges Jacob to escape to her family in Haran, towards which he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Gen 25:25 – “The first to come out was red, and his whole body was like a hairy garment; so they named him Esau.”

Esau has been regarded as a villain by the commentators. But this view of Esau is not necessarily supported by the text itself. 

The text begins with a bitter rivalry between the twins, starting from their birth when it appears that Jacob was already seeking superiority by grasping the heel of Esau. Rashi, noting that the text describes Esau as “reddish” considers this a sign that he would be one to shed blood. The Hebrew word for “red” also connects Esau to the traditional opponent of Israel, Edom. The terse text defines Esau as a skillful hunter, which the Sages find as a basis for a negative portrayal (especially when contrasted to Jacob, a man of the tents. (Question: does this say more about the characters or about the rabbis who wrote midrash about them?) The text is not explicitly negative towards Esau. It does not portray him as deceitful, but rather as the victim of deceit. He loves his father, and provides him with food (Pirke Avot praises such support of aged parents as a high ethical principle). Jacob forces a “sale” of the birthright for a bowl of lentils (is this even a lawful transaction when Esau is famished? Can a birthright even be “sold”?). It is Jacob who deceives his father by disguising himself as Esau at the time of the blessing. Esau’s only reaction is a pitiful request to his father: have you no blessing for me?

Why has our tradition chosen to treat Esau so negatively? One response is that Jacob becomes the true inheritor of the birthright after struggling with the angel and receiving a second blessing and a new name. History is written by (or for) the victors. Jacob’s name is changed to Israel, the name we share today, and Esau is now a footnote. In other words, Jacob is too great a figure to be diminished by commentary. Esau, on the other hand, leaves the story arc almost entirely, except to welcome back Jacob after his sojourn with Laban (when Esau bestows a kiss of welcome on his brother’s neck, which midrash claims was an attempt to bite the neck of his sibling!). Jacob returns a rich man. Esau, although powerful and wealthy himself, becomes the ultimate outsider. The Esau/Edom connection is subsequently transformed by the commentators when Edom becomes the metaphor for Rome, another enemy of our people.

Esau, the rejected one, is the alienated outsider to our tradition. How easy it is to castigate those we don’t really know, to relegate the stranger to disrepute, to accept the negative evaluations of others regarding strangers. We see this today, when we imagine whole races or ethnic groups as sharing negative stereotypes, in direct opposition to the Jewish ethical demand of treating the stranger with respect and equality. This is precisely the terrible failure of the terrorists of Gaza who use awful, hateful assumptions about Israelis and Jews to justify their horrendous inhumane actions. 

Emotional Intelligence

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 become man and wife.  The parasha ends with the death of Abraham, and his burial by Isaac and Ishmael in the family burial cave.

Genesis 23:1 “And the life of Sarah was a hundred and seven and twenty years; these were the days of the life of Sarah.

Rabbi Evan Moffic taught about the importance of temperament – “hishtavut hanefesh” in Reform Voices of Torah (11/9/09).It is usually defined as “equanimity, inner calmness, maintenance of an even keel.” According to commentary, Sarah, about whose death we read in this parasha, was a paragon of the concept.

The weekly reading begins by telling us that she lived for 127 years, and then seems to repeat itself by adding ”these were the days of the life of Sarah.” As we've noted often, every repetition offers a new opportunity for commentary. Rashi is quoted as saying that the repetition reminds us that all of Sarah’s years were for the good. But we know from the text that this is not self-evident. There were many “downs” in Sarah’s life: she had to leave her kin with Abraham to journey to a new land; she was endangered in Pharaoh’s court when Abraham passed her off as his “sister;” she went childless for decades; she dealt harshly with Hagar out of apparent jealousy; and finally, her beloved son was the object of the Akedah (whether she knew or not of this was a matter of midrash). Rashi’s comment means that despite these hardships, her character remained unaffected as she maintained “hishtavut hanefesh.”

This quality was greatly prized by commentators throughout the ages. As is so often the case, a traditional rabbinic observation has a modern corollary: today, we call it “emotional intelligence." We should be are aware of our feelings and emotions, but not ruled by them. The traditional understanding of Sarah’s character is a model for all of us in our dealings in the workplace and with our families. It is also a model for those of our political leaders who are faced with issues of the gravest concern in coming months.

Noah, Abraham, and God

Noah

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. Then it rains for forty days and nights. Noah and his family are saved and 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, makes wine, and becomes drunk. An odd incident takes place with his sons. The story of the Tower of Babel is included, and the parasha ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, ending with Abram.

Genesis 6:9 “...Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age.” 

The Torah reading in this parasha is interesting in its portrayal of the human characters and perhaps troubling in its portrayal of God.

First, the text strikes a note of ambivalence: Noah is praised in our parasha as "a righteous man; blameless in his age." Is Noah really righteous, or just better than those in his wicked society? How would he measure up to other people in other societies? Second, the text tells us that Noah "walked with God" (as opposed to Abraham, who "walked before God"). What is the difference between the two characters? 

Noah is silent and does not complain about God’s plan, in stark contrast with Abraham at Sodom, when Abraham engages God in debate about the fate of the city. Here is the major difference between Noah and Abraham, hinted at in the text: Noah walks "with" God, and does not question Him. Abraham walks “before” God, the adverb indicating a degree of independence or even leadership, a difference emphasized by Abraham's argument about the fate of Sodom ("Will not the God of Justice act justly?" Gen 18:24). One human being simply follows orders; the other argues with God. 

While we might wonder at this difference, what are more problematic are the different portrayals of God in the two stories. In the story of the Flood, God simply declares that the earth is wicked and states His intent to destroy the world and start anew with Noah. When humans build a Tower, they are dispersed, again without a chance to atone for whatever sin they have committed.

In the story of Sodom, God engages in an investigative process ("I will go down and see for Myself" (Gen 18:20)), and then debates with Abraham about His plans before making a decision to destroy the city. Clearly, the God of Noah is not the same as the God of Abraham. Is this because Noah and Abraham occupy different levels of ethical awareness, or is it that God has “matured” in His understanding of human nature? If we are endowed with free will, do humans have the ability to “surprise” God (cf., omniscience vs. omnipotence)? What does it say about us, and what does that say about our conception of God? 

Those who believe that the text is best understood as a compilation by a Great Redactor believe that the different portrayals of God in the Flood and Sodom stories is because the tales have different, divergent, and contradictory sources. Those who read the text as a unified whole see a suggestion that there was growth and change in the relationship between human beings and the Creator, and that the nature of the relationship is dynamic.

Does this have relevance to us today? Perhaps. The text is a mirror of our understanding of God and God’s role in human affairs. History seems to indicate that we are really "on our own" and the God has removed Himself from us. In addition to being a sign that He will not destroy the world again, the rainbow could also be a sign of the withdrawal of His Presence from day to day human affairs. 

In a more practical manner, Abraham, who walks “before" God and shows God the “right” way to do things, is a role model for all of us who might help lead others: a human being who demands justice, even from God. 

A New Year Begins at the Beginning

With this week's d'var Torah, I start my 13th year of sending our such messages. It's been a very rewarding experience, not only for the study itself but also in learning from the wonderful comments I receive in return. While the focus was originally on how the weekly parasha could be interpreted to impact congregational management, I've expanded over time to talk about other issues, from relationships in families to our relationship with Israel and, on occasion, to political matters and current events as seen from what I can glean from the text. Thanks again for your comments and support. Shabbat Shalom to all.




Bereshit
Genesis 1:1 - 6:8

Précis: The first Book of the Torah, Bereshit (Genesis, literally “in the beginning” or “When God began to create”) begins with the 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 is included in this weekly reading, as is the story of Cain and Abel. We begin again the annual reading of the Five Books of Moses immediately upon its conclusion. Why? With each passing year, our understanding changes as we experience more of what life has to offer. Yochanan Ben Bag Bag said, "Turn it, and turn it, for everything is in it. Reflect on it and grow old and gray with it. Don't turn from it, for you have no better standard of conduct." (Avot 5:25)


Genesis 3:11-12 - “And the Lord said, ‘Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree that I commanded you should not eat of?’ And the man said: ‘The woman you have given me to be with me, she gave me of the tree and I did eat.’”

Adam, when confronted by God about his failure to follow the single prohibition that God had commanded him to observe, first attempts to place the blame on Eve, and then on God Himself. It’s human nature that when one errs, one may defend one’s actions, or blame another. Adam refuses to acknowledge his responsibility. It was because something God did. When Eve is confronted, she responds that the snake made her do it. Were they banished from the Garden (and consigned to a mortal existence) because they violated God’s prohibition, or because they refused to accept responsibility for their own actions? There is a midrash that it was only after Cain killed Abel that Adam learned of the possibility of repentance (t’shuvah), and bitterly complains that had he only known of the possibility of atonement, he could have done so and remained in the Garden.


The bottom line for Executive Directors (and everyone else, perhaps) may be as follows: admit your own mistakes and take responsibility for them. An attempt to blame another, be it a staff member or a volunteer or a family member, will inevitably result in the loss of your credibility. We all make mistakes; it's what makes us human. Striving for perfection cannot obscure the fact the errors happen. Our mandate is to take ownership of our mistakes and accept responsibility for them clearly and unequivocally, and then move on!

Doom and Gloom, or Redemption

For Shabbat Chol Moed Sukkot:

As has happened so often during the long history of the Jewish People, this year as we celebrate Sukkot, the Jewish People face a threat  which some have characterized as “existential” (particularly with regard to Iran’s nuclear threat to Israel). Our tradition has its own apocalyptic motifs within it which are part of our readings this Shabbat. 

During Sukkot,  it is customary to read the Book of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes). Among its themes are the need to accept the realities of life, recognizing that life's struggles are nothing but a form of “havel” (vanity or emptiness). Many read the book, attributed to Solomon, as downbeat and despairing. The haftarah for Shabbat Chol HaMoed Sukkot contains explicit horrors, but ends with a promise of redemption. In it we read Ezekiel’s description of a future battle against Gog in the land of Magog which will take place just prior to God’s ultimate victory and the inauguration of the Messianic era. His vision suggests a world entirely engulfed in war, with earthquakes, storms, hail, and fiery brimstone. He states that it will take Israel seven months to bury the dead invaders! 

Why did the Sages select this reading for the Shabbat during Sukkot?  Ordinarily, it is not too difficult to see a connection between the Torah reading (here about the Sukkot sacrifices) and the haftarah. But here, the tone of the two are strikingly different, at least on the surface. Sukkot is a time of joy, while the haftarah is grim and downcast. Why do we have this discussion of Gog and Magog, who in rabbinic thought become ultimate symbols of destruction?

It has been suggested that we read this haftarah because it is a tale that will be well-received by the oppressed. Through two millennia, the Jewish People were often oppressed, and Gog and Magog became symbols of the oppressors who could not be named without fear of retribution. The eventual prophesied triumph was a promise of Redemption to a people who experienced only pain and subjugation, and the promise came at a time when their continued existence was as flimsy as a Sukkah.

When we link Sukkot to Ezekiel’s vision, we are expressing our hope that the “doom and gloom” we read in Kohelet is to be replaced by an ultimate triumph, of a time when war is no longer learned, and when spears are turned into pruning hooks.

It is also a reminder that the struggles we face day to day in our relations with others, or in our relations with the community and fellow Jews, should not blind us to the potential of good we can perform. Despite Ezekiel’s predictions of destruction, we need to keep in mind that Sukkot is “z’man simchatenu” – a time of our joy.

The Past, the future

Haazinu

Deuteronomy 32:1 -52

Précis: The parasha begins with the “Song of Moses,” a hymn sung by Moses within sight of the Promised Land. The song contrasts God’s fidelity to the faithlessness of the People and the need of the People to learn from their history under God’s care. Moses predicts that Israel’s enemies will be overcome. Moses is told to climb a mountain to see the Promised Land he will not to enter, as he prepares for his death. This is the last parasha read on Shabbat in the annual cycle: the final parasha (V’zot Habracha) is read traditionally on Simchat Torah.

(Deuteronomy 32:7) “Ask your parent, who will inform you…”

(Deuteronomy 32: 46) “Take to heart all the words with which I have warned you this day. Enjoin them upon your children, that they may observe faithfully all the terms of this Teaching.”

             In his final speech to the People, Moses presents them with two different visions. He first castigates them for their failing during the years in the desert, reminding them that they must learn from their errors. (Deuteronomy 32:7). Look to the past and learn the lessons of your pious ancestors!

But then Moses instructs the People that they are responsible for looking forward, to teach their children about the need for fidelity to God and to fulfill the terms of the Covenant. Is this indeed a dichotomy, or is there a more subtly message being presented?

If one looks at the entirety of the Bible, from the Five Books of Moses to the prophets and to the writings, we see a steady separation of God from humanity. The God who walked in the cool of the evening with Adam in the Garden has become ever more remote. Moses may have spoken with God, but after Moses, God’s Voice comes in dreams or through visions, when they come at all. Our tradition insists, however, that a Messianic Redemption will come some day. Thus, while the historical God seems remote, we maintain a belief in His promise of future salvation.

In his deft way, Moses’ final pronouncements hint at the duality of our tradition: reverence for the past, and hope for the future. To use another metaphor, we are links in a chain, relying upon the strength of those who have come before, overcoming struggle, facing danger, yet surviving with a belief that a better day lies ahead of us: for our people, our families, our congregations, and all of Israel.

Time for Change

Va Yelech

Deuteronomy 31:1-31:30

Précis: The death of Moses approaches, and 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 31:7 “Then Moses summoned Joshua and said to him in the presence of all Israel, ‘Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into the land that the Lord swore to their ancestors to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance.’” 

We read this parasha on the Shabbat (Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of Return) before Yom Kippur. The concept of change is at the center of our thoughts. The story of the transition from the leadership of Moses to that of Joshua offers some guidance about change. In the verse cited above, Moses models how change is made by a great leader. He gives his blessing to Joshua, his successor. He encourages his successor, and does so in public. Moses gives Joshua some direction, but critically leaves it to Joshua how to achieve his mission. Moses demonstrates for us all of the important external parts of change for a leader.

We may recall that Moses previously had bitterly complained to the People that it was “their fault” he could not lead them into the Promised Land. Now he understands that the time for a change is now, and he makes his peace with it graciously.He has changed within. The verse teaches us that in order to be real, human change must be both internal and public.

Benjamin Disraeli once remarked that “Change is inevitable. Change is constant.” But is change really “inevitable?” Is it “constant?” Change has been constant for the last 100 years, but prior to that, change was never constant at all. It was the norm for hundreds if not thousands of years for the grind of daily life to remain unchanging. Recently, anthropologists have found evidence of human cave art that is at least 40,000 years old. This means that for tens of thousands of years there was no significant change in the human condition. In the last hundred years or so, of course, the pace of change in the world has been stunning and even overwhelming.

So the rate of change is not constant. But is change inevitable? In terms of human leadership (like Moses), some change is certain, since all human life comes to an end. But what about the kind of change we are seeking during the Yamim Noraim? Internal change is not inevitable unless we make it so.

Here is the test of real change for us: can we become more gracious, more accepting, and more caring of those who need help? Can we become better parents and children and spouses? Can we help our communities even more than we do? Can we accept the kind of change which our tradition offers us? With faith in God and faith in our ability to change, perhaps we can. May you be sealed in the Book of Life for a year of health, happiness, and prosperity.

A New Year Prayer for Unity

Nitzavim

Deuteronomy 29:9 -30:20

Précis: Moses continues to address the People: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. In his final words to the People, Moses recounts the wonders Adonai had done for them, and calls upon them to remain loyal to God through the Covenant. The extent of the 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. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and they are to make a choice. Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life, so that they may inherit the Land which God has sworn to their forefathers.

Deuteronomy 29:9 -11 “You stand this day, all of you, before Adonai your God -  your tribal heads, your elders, your officials, all the men of Israel; your children, your wives, even the stranger in your camp, from wood chopper to water drawer, to enter into the Covenant of Adonai your God…”

This week we read Nitzavim just a few days before Rosh Hashanah, one of the great gathering holidays for the Jewish People. Joined together in congregations, we have a powerful example of what can be: a sense of Jewish unity.  The verse we review here is a reminder of that unity: k’lal Yisrael. All stand together before God, from the highest to the lowest. It is a Jewish ideal, and is also an American ideal. It is also unfortunately true that our grasp often exceeds our reach. 

Unity is just as important for America, and for now seems beyond our grasp as well. As I write these words, we are just 11 years removed from "9/11." The spirit of American national unity which appeared possible at that time now seems somehow quaint, perhaps lost for good. Consensus and compromise, once the hallmarks of our democracy, have become highly charged negative words in the current American political patois.  

            Israel is not much more better off, with deep political divisions of its own.The nature of coalition government in the State of Israel requires at least some cooperation, but the price is high. Recent events have underscored the deep divides between different parts of Israeli society, religiously, socially, and politically.

            Finally, there is an unfortunate growing lack of unity between Israel and the Jews of the Diaspora. Polls indicate a decrease in support for Israel among Jews who live outside of the Land, and among the more politically active, the importance of Israel has lost priority all too frequently to other issues.

            There is a famous statement from Kohelet (Ecclesiastes): “There is nothing new under the sun” (1:9). Divisions among Jews is nothing new. It is so ingrained that it is a source of humor (two Jews, three opinions). Severe challenges to unity have existed from our earliest days and continue today. But as this verse reminds us, we Jews have also managed to stand together before God to accept a Covenant. Our upcoming High Holy Day liturgy is imbued with the concept of unity: we confess, publicly, and acknowledge the sins which “we” have committed.

This verse reminds us that unity among the Jewish People remains a possibility. This is also true for America, for our congregations, our families, and our communities. May the coming New Year be one of increasing unity for all of us. 

Connecting to the Natural World

Ki Tavo

Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8

Précis: The parasha contains 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 the two - and take the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that God had done for them in bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land.

Deuteronomy 26:1-11 “And it shall be, when you come into the land which Adonai has given you, and dwell there, that you will take the first fruit of the ground…and place it in a basket...and go to a place that Adonai will choose…And you will come to the priest…and say to him, 'my father was a wandering Aramean, and he went to Egypt, and there became a great nation…And the Egyptians dealt harshly with us…and we cried to Adonai…and He heard our voices…and brought us forth with a strong hand…and brought us to this place, flowing with milk and honey…and now I have brought the first of the fruit of this land which You, Adonai, have given me' ...And you will rejoice in all that Adonai has given you…”

We set the stage: the Land has been (or will have been) conquered, and each tribe has been allocated its holdings (except, of course, for the tribe of Levi). The farmers have spread over the land, sown their crops, and planted their trees. The harvest approaches, and they are now commanded to bring those first fruits to the Temple as a thankful expression to God.

            These Israelite farmers recite a specified prayer of thanksgiving that ties their sacrifice back to their Exodus from Egypt, now complete with the bestowal of Torah, the gift of the Promised Land, and the success of their initial harvest. The scripted prayer is an historical reminder, and also serves to remind the community of their essential continuing dependence on God.

            Rabbi Avraham HaKohen Kook, a principal leader of the Religious Zionist Movement in the early 20th century, taught that agriculture in the Land of Israel has the ability to unify the Jewish People. He explains that the ceremony of the first fruits makes the connection of the People to the Land, and that the farmers are due the praise of their fellow citizens. Rogers and Hammerstein taught us in Oklahoma that” the “cowboy and the farmer should be friends.” Rav Kook taught us that the urban dwellers had to respect the farmers and recognize their contribution to the national enterprise. It’s not surprising that many of the “intellectual class” among early Zionist immigrants also thought that getting one’s hands dirty in agriculture was an activity in which all should be engaged.

            Today, most of us in America (and Israel) are separated from the sources of our food. We go to supermarkets and purchase canned or packaged produce; the butcher provides us with trimmed and wrapped meats and fowl. Excerpt for the occasional trip to a farm stand or apple picking, we have lost most real connections to the land.

In this light, I’m so proud that my daughter Liz, currently a culinary student, has taught me the importance of farm-to-table food preparation. While it’s not necessarily a direct corollary to Rav Kook’s guidance, there is a theme: it’s a Jewish ethical mandate to recognize the connection between ourselves and the natural world, and it is our responsibility to thank God for His fruits and the farmers who toil to provide the bounty to us. It’s also a reminder for those of use with close connections to synagogues that an understanding of where the food we serve comes from (and how it is produced) is a matter of real importance.

Recognizing Labor's Contributions

Ki Tetze

Deuteronomy 21:10 - 25:19

Précis:  The parasha might be subtitled “entering society” because it describes the creation of a just and moral society. It begins with the phrase “when you go forth” (ki tetze) to battle. This parasha, according to Maimonides, contains 72 mitzvot (commandments). Although they seem unrelated, they all deal with the morals and values that God wanted to be deeply implanted in the Israelites' society. They cover a wide variety of topics, from family life, human kindness, respect for property and animals, the safety of others, sexual relationships, escaped slaves, financial loans and charging interest, keeping promises, and remembering to blot out the name of one of Israel's greatest enemies. This assortment of commands included 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.

Deuteronomy 24:14 “You shall not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger in one of the communities of your land.”

             

            This year, we read this verse on the Shabbat immediately prior to Labor Day.  This is a proof text governing the Jewish tradition of treating employees in a respectful and honest way. At a time in American history when the role of organized labor is once again under attack, it may be worth thinking for a moment about the contributions of the Labor Movement to our society.

Perhaps ironically (given the current political stance of the two major parties), more than 100 years ago, a Republican President publicly supported the legalization of unions (which the courts had found to be an unconstitutional limitation on one’s right to contract), as well as a plethora of legislative proposals to limit the number of hours of work in a week, prohibit child labor, enact a minimum wage, and break the power of powerful corporate interests in the political process. This was, of course, Theodore Roosevelt, whose reputation as a “trust buster” and as a big game hunter sometimes obscures his progressive pro-employee agenda.

His progressive nature was confirmed when he left the Republican Party and ran for President on the “Bull Moose” ticket, coming in second to Democrat Woodrow Wilson. Roosevelt left the GOP because his protégé and successor, William Howard Taft, had failed to follow through on TR’s agenda. It would be another 25 years before the Wagner Act was adopted, creating the National Labor Relations Board to protect the rights of employees to engage in concerted action (with or without a union).

            However, during the interim years, most of the elements of the Roosevelt program had been adopted by individual states, lead by New York (following the terrible Triangle Fire in 1911). The remainder of organized labor’s social agenda was eventually adopted over the coming decades: the Fair Labor Standards Act (minimum wages), bans on child labor, unemployment compensation statutes, retirement (Social Security and ERISA), workplace safety (OSHA), and health coverage for many Americans (Medicare and Medicaid).

Today, it seems that many of these programs are under attack by at least those who would like to return to a constitutional interpretation which renders these programs an unwarranted and unconstitutional governmental intrusion against the rights of corporations to contract with individual employees. And yet, many of those who so strongly protest against “big government” also say, “keep your hands off my Medicare.”

As I write this commentary in 2012, union membership has fallen to about 7% of the private sector work force. Public sector unions are under attack, based upon a theory that their so-called powerful negotiators and lobbyists provide them with higher pay and better pensions than those in the private sector have. Many workers in the private sector, who have experienced a steady erosion of pay and benefits in recent decades often support this rationale: why should “they” get more than “me?” Perhaps they should be asking why their take home pay and benefits have eroded, and that they should be demanding a restoration of pay levels and pension security which they previously enjoyed!

The coming election offers a stark contrast between, on one hand, those who believe that the decline in middle class income and the decline in union membership rates over the past decades is not a coincidence, and on the other hand, those who believe that organized labor is a threat to the entrepreneurial future of America. Regardless of which side of the argument you find yourself, on Labor Day it is appropriate to tip one’s hat to a movement which has been the source for so much good in our nation’s history, with a social agenda reflecting essential Jewish concern for the widow, the orphan, and the stranger among us. As VP nominee Ryan so aptly reminded us, a country is measured by how it treats the neediest among us.

Considering Capital Punishment

Shoftim

Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9

Précis: The parasha Shoftim (literally, “judges”) is devoted primarily to various themes of justice, and includes warnings against false testimony, idol worship, and the dangers of mortal kings. The parasha includes regulations for rulers, and also warns the people against false prophets, magicians, soothsayers and witches. It establishes requirements for cities of refuge in the Promised Land. In short, the parasha is devoted to ways to create a just society in the Land of Israel

Deut. 17:7 "Let the hands of the witnesses be the first against him to put him to death, and the hands of the rest of the nation thereafter."

The verse in question assumes the legitimacy of capital punishment, as do many other verses in the Bible.  We read in Deut. 19:21 that we take a “life for life.” The rabbis tried to limit the circumstances under which the penalty could be imposed, but never were able to declare the concept invalid. (There is a similarity here to the U.S. Supreme Court’s capital punishment cases, where the how and the when of capital punishment have been circumscribed, but a majority has never considered the concept to be unconstitutional.)

            This week’s reading presents a complex view of the matter. This verse, after all, states that the witnesses to the act must throw the first stones, and thus directly take responsibility for the punishment. When they are joined by the rest of the community, there can be no cause for a blood feud; all of the community bear responsibility for the death. As mentioned, rabbinic authority circumscribed the penalties, and as is noted in the Mishnah (Makkot 7a) "A Sanhedrin that executes once in seven years is destructive. Rabbi Eliezer ben Azariah says, 'Every 70 years.' Rabbi Tarfon and Rabbi Akiba say, ‘If we were in a Sanhedrin, no man would ever be executed.’"

The great commentator of medieval times, Maimonides, opined (Sefer Hamitzvot, negative commandment no. 290) "It is better and more satisfactory to acquit a thousand guilty persons than to put a single innocent one to death." Recent developments in DNA matching have demonstrated how often innocent individuals are sentenced to death, adding weight to the teachings of Maimonides. We should understand that all human systems of justice are at best imperfect, and that so long as capital punishment is imposed, some innocent will die.

Proponents of capital punishment suggest that while such erroneous deaths are unfortunate, they are somehow balanced by the necessity of exacting justice (or revenge) from those who are sentenced to the ultimate recourse. Our Jewish tradition appears to side with those who would eliminate capital punishment. That the State of Israel has executed a single individual in its history (Adolf Eichman) shows us that it is in fact conceivable within current Jewish legal thought to support the death penalty in extraordinary circumstances. But how do we define “extraordinary?” 

There is not just one way

Re’eh

Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17

Précis: Moses begins by quoting God, saying “Behold (re’eh), I set before you a blessing and a curse this day.” The blessing flows from observance of the laws; the curses result from violations. A concern with idolatry permeates the following verses. The parasha explains that there will be a single 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 laws of kashrut, and tithing so that the Levite, the "stranger, the fatherless, and the widow” are taken care of.  Remission of debts, freeing of Hebrew slaves, and the dedication of firstborn cattle are discussed, as are the commandments for the observance of Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot.

Deut.12:8 “You shall not act at all as we now act here, each of us as we please . . .”

           

A major focus of this parasha is the centrality of the Temple and the Pilgrimage Festivals, where it is assumed that the People will gather together in worship. The cited verse suggests that there would be a need for a transition from the movable Tabernacle to a fixed Temple in the Promised Land. 

           

          Not only would the place of worship be fixed, but the rituals associated with the sacrifices would be codified.  Nachmanides opines that sacrifices made during the 40 years of the Wilderness experience were essentially unregulated, in contrast to the highly fixed requirements of the Temple sacrificial system.

            

          And yet, despite the specific demand here, a single place for Jewish worship and a single method for of Jewish ritual never came to be. The Book of Judges, set prior to the establishment of the kingship in Israel, tells us about the years prior to the building of the Temple,  “when every man did what was right in his own eyes” (Judges 25:22). Even after King Solomon dedicated the first Temple in Jerusalem, the prophets repeatedly castigate the people for making sacrifices in “high places” and at other locations. Prior to the destruction of the second Temple in the first century C.E., Jewish religious practice was morphing into something different. We have archaeological evidence of the existence of synagogues during the Second Temple period in Israel and in other locations outside of the land, so we know that the Temple sacrificial system was not the only place (or means) of conducting Jewish ritual life.

Throughout the centuries, there has been continuing tension between individual and communal Jewish worship. Judaism is, of course, a quintessential communal faith, requiring a religious quorum for most significant worship ("minyan"). Today, we have an extraordinary wide range of Jewish practices and rituals, to the extent that it seems increasingly difficult (if not presumptive) to label any one form of Judaism “normative.” Even within the most traditional segments of the community, serious differences exist about how to live a “torah life.” 

I would suggest that this verse teaches us that diversity in Jewish practice and ritual is perhaps the one “normative” aspect that transcends 3,000 years of belief.

Giving Thanks

Ekev

Deuteronomy 7:12 - 11:25

Précis: Moses continues his recapitulation of the commandments to the people, reminding them to be obedient to God’s laws in their forthcoming struggle with the Canaanites. Moses describes in detail all of the blessings which God had already provided them, and reminds 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 8:10 – “When you have eaten and are satisfied, give thanks to Adonai your God for the good land which He has given you.”

In the reading this week, we are informed of the blessings and punishments which follow from the observance (or failure to observe) God’s commands (mitzvot). In the cited verse, we learn that we will be fed (and be satisfied) but that it is then incumbent to express thanks to God for His largess. But it is noteworthy that we are not commanded to thank God for the food, but rather for the land. Why this indirect distinction? Perhaps it is a matter of the forest and the trees.

The performance of some of the mitzvot can become almost automatic and unthinking (the trees), a complaint sometimes leveled against some traditional Jews who seem to be mumbling blessings constantly. On the other hand, when we thank God for the land, we are offering thanks not for the food itself (the tree) but recognizing His gift of the entire world, which in turn allows us to eat (the forest). This simple mitzvah is an important reminder to think about what we are doing, however mundane or ordinary, and find within it a basis for thanksgiving.

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 their sinful ways, and therefore was refused permission to enter the Land. Moses continues with a restatement of the Ten Commandments, and follows with an articulation of the basic element of Jewish theology: the Sh’ma. Moses then warns the people against the perils 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 the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might”

           

How can we be commanded to love? How can we be commanded to do or feel something that is not within our control? After all, “love” is a human emotion, which arises mysteriously, and can vanish mysteriously as well. (Aside: how fortunate are those of us who celebrate a lifelong love!). But despite our inability to understand what love is, or how to control it,  the text tells us that we must love God.

            The Sfat Emet (Rabbi Judah Aryeh Leib Alter, 1874-1905) said that the potential to love God exists within each of us, and that the intent of this commandment is to encourage us to take actions which bring the potential to the surface.

            This concept bridges emotion and action. We “love God” when we are motivated to honor God’s goodness through the observance of those acts of loving-kindness which bring aid and comfort to other human beings. We “love God” when we express our love to others. We “love God” when we commit to the study of our texts, and we "love God" when we participate in the support of Israel and the Jewish People.

            In sum, the love of God referred to in this verse, which we repeat every day, is not a mere directive to "feel." It is a call to action. Shabbat Shalom