Names, names, and more names

Va’era

Exodus 6:2 - 9:35

Précis: God reiterates His intention to free the Israelites from bondage and to create a covenant with them. Moses goes back to Pharaoh to seek release of the Israelites. Pharaoh refuses and we see the first seven of the fabled plagues: blood, frogs, fleas, beetles, cattle disease, boils, and hail. Pharaoh relents after each plague begins, deciding to let the people go, but then God “hardens Pharaoh’s heart” and he refuses to allow them to leave.

Ex. 6:2-3 “God also said to Moses, ‘I am The Eternal.  I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob as El Shaddai, but by my name YHVH I did not make Myself known to them...’”

               I recently had an extended discussion with a congregant couple about baby names. They wanted to know if it was “permitted” to have a different Hebrew name than the English name they planned for their child. I explained that customs vary significantly, and that while many try to use the same name as an ancestor for the Hebrew name, there seems to be a much more relaxed custom when it comes to English names, with many parents selecting names with little or no relation to the Hebrew name. The congregants with whom I spoke were not satisfied with my answer, wanting  something more definitive. When it comes to names, many of us want to get it “right.” [For a fascinating recent article on the origin of Jewish last names, see http://jewishcurrents.org/the-origins-and-meanings-of-ashkenazic-last-names-12849.]

               This week’s Torah reading again brings the matter of “names” to the fore. In this verse, God tells Moses that He is to be known by a name previously not known to the Patriarchs. But the statement that they “did not know” the name YHVH is contradicted by the text itself. Abraham knew it (Gen. 15:7) when his covenant with God was made. Jacob knew it as well (Gen. 28:13) as we see in the story of his ladder dream. Nahama Leibowitz explains: “From this it emerges that the text is a pointer not to God’s name but to God’s essence” (Studies in Shemot p.133). This seems to mean that while the name may have been “known” to the Patriarchs, its “meaning” was being newly revealed to Moses.

          These first chapters of Exodus spend a great deal of time on God’s name. Only last week, we had the revelation of God’s name as “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh” [I will be what I will be (Ex. 3:13–14)]. Laura Geller has suggested (Reform Voices of Torah 1/11/10) that if “ehyeh” is the future tense of the verb “to be” than YHVH may be the present tense of the same verb: “is.” Someone famously once said that it’s important to know what the definition of “is” is. So it would seem here, since that definition defines the Creator.

               The Hebrew title of this Book in Hebrew is Shemot (Names). In the first parasha, we learned the names of Jacob’s descendants who “went down” into Egypt, and we learned the future tense name of God. In this second parasha, we learn the Name which “is.” Names are always important!

"A bridegroom of blood" - What's THAT supposed to mean?

Shemot

Exodus 1:1 - 6:1

Précis: With this parasha, we begin the second book of the Bible, Exodus. In Hebrew, the title for this book is “Shemot” (names) because the first verses begin with a listing of “names” of the Israelites who came down to Egypt with Jacob, to dwell in Goshen in response to Joseph’s and Pharaoh’s offer.  A new Pharaoh has arisen who “does not remember Joseph.” He enslaves the Israelites and orders the killing of all male children. A Levite male child is born, is hidden by his parents, and is sent down the river in a reed basket where he is saved by Pharaoh’s daughter. He is subsequently identified as Moses.

               Nothing appears in the text about Moses’ childhood, other than that he is raised in the house of Pharaoh. As an adult, Moses witnesses a taskmaster beating a Hebrew and slays the taskmaster. Next, he witnesses a fight between two Hebrews. When he attempts to intervene, one Hebrew mentions Moses’ killing of the Egyptian. Fearing disclosure, Moses flees to the desert.
               There, Moses becomes a shepherd in the camp of Jethro, a Midianite “priest.” He encounters the burning bush and learns God’s “name.” Moses receives his charge to free the Israelites and is provided with signs to authenticate his mission. Before leaving Jethro, Moses marries Zipporah and they have a child. Moses and his brother Aaron go before Pharaoh and ask that the people be freed to worship God in the desert. They are refused, and the burdens are increased on the slaves, who become angry with Moses for his interference. The parasha ends with God telling Moses, “You now will see what I will do to Pharaoh.”

Ex. 4:21-26 “And God said to Moses, ‘When you return to Egypt, perform before Pharaoh the marvels I have placed in your power. I will stiffen his heart so that he will not let the people go. Then you will say to Pharaoh, ‘Thus says God: Israel is my first-born son. I have said to you ‘Let My son go, that he may worship Me,’ yet you refuse to let him go. Now I will slay your first-born.’ At a night encampment on the way, God encountered him and sought to kill him. So Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched his legs with it, saying ‘You are truly a bridegroom of blood to me.’ And when He let him alone, she added, ‘A bridegroom of blood because of the circumcision.’”
               We have here two seemingly unconnected story segments. In the first several verses, God tells Moses to remind Pharaoh that Israel is His “first-born” son, that Pharaoh will not let the Israelites go, and that God will slay the first-born of Egypt. (Moses probably realizes at this moment that his assignment will be a much more difficult than previously he might have imagined!).
               The second story segment deals with a mysterious and ambiguous situation. The Hebrew is unclear, and to whom the pronouns refer is complicated. It is not clear whether God is seeking to kill Moses or Moses’ son; furthermore, it is not clear whose legs are touched with the bloody foreskin (again, it might be Moses or his son), and it is not at all clear what the statement regarding “ a bridegroom of blood” is intended to mean. The traditional interpretation has been that God sought to slay Moses (why?), and was prevented from doing so by the action of Zipporah to circumcise their son and to place the bloody foreskin against Moses’ legs. (Is this some sort of “magical” action which is used to prevent God from acting? This story seems to be so “un-Jewish”!)
               Even if the traditional understanding is correct, we are left with the question of why these two circumstances are juxtaposed. Former Chancellor Schorsch of JTS has suggested an alternative reading of these verses (Chancellor’s Weekly Parasha 1/15/94). He explains that the target of God’s nighttime visit was really Moses’ first-born son, Gershom. Schorsch believes that Moses had been “traumatized” when he was informed by God that He planned on slaying the first-born of Egypt. Because of this trauma, he again became reluctant to proceed. God in turn attacks Moses' own first-born son, perhaps to demonstrate His power. Zipporah’s intervention saves the son, while Moses looks on, unwilling or unable to intervene. Her act of circumcising Gershom saves him. Moses’ is “let alone” (by God) and proceeds with the mission.

               The juxtaposition of these story segments is an invitation to think about how the Bible can be interpreted and how we are heirs to a text we do not fully comprehend, despite 2,500 years of commentary and analysis. I am not disturbed by the fact that parts of the text remain so uncertain and unclear. Rather, I feel fortunate that we can continue to participate in this tradition of learning and study.

Finally Making Things Right

Vayechi

Genesis 47:28 - 50:26

Précis: As the Book of Genesis comes to a close, Jacob lived (vayechi) 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, Joseph also dies after exacting a promise that his remains also be brought to the land of Israel.

Gen. 50:15-17 “When Joseph's brothers saw their father was dead, they said, ‘What if Joseph stills bears a grudge against us?’ So they sent him a message, saying ‘Before his death your father left us this instruction: Say to Joseph, ‘Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers.’"

              The concept of familial reconciliation is at the heart of the Joseph saga as a whole as well as of this particular parasha. Despite the apparent reconciliation, it is not until the very conclusion of the story, long after their tearful reunion, long after they have settled in the land of Goshen, and after Jacob’s death that Joseph’s brothers actually apologize for their behaviors (Genesis 50:17). This particular verse leaves us wondering about the sincerity and completeness of the  reconciliation which took place when Joseph revealed himself to his brothers in the dramatic highlight found in Genesis 45.

               The Sages teach that reconciliation (a form of t’shuvah) requires confession, apology, and the making of amends to the one who has been wronged (Maimonides,  Mishneh Torah, “Laws of Repentance” 2:1). This story asks a question: must these elements take place in the order specified? Joseph’s reaction to the deferred apology is to weep (because of a sense of relief? out of thanks?  in anger or sadness because they still don’t trust him after their father’s death? We don’t know).

               We see that to complete a true reconciliation, all aspects of repentance must take place, but the order in which they are accomplished seems less important. The Joseph story ends, unlike most other stories of sibling animosity in Genesis, with a happy conclusion. While Joseph insists that what has transpired is the result of God’s will, the text itself shows that reconciliation is not a matter of God’s will but rather the result of human action.  So the first lesson to be learned here is that if we hope for reconciliation within our workplaces or families, it is up to us to take the necessary steps.

               There is a second and related point. Bereshit is a book about hope, not optimism. Optimism is the belief that things will get better, while hope is the faith that through action, we can make things better. Hope is the hallmark of Jewish tradition, and hope is what preserves us as families and as a People.

Finding Our Courage

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.

Gen. 46:33-34 “And it will happen that when you see Pharaoh, he will ask ‘What is your occupation?’ And you will say, ‘Your servants are keepers of cattle from our youth until the present, as have been our fathers’…for every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians.”

                We reach the dramatic apogee of the story of Joseph and his brothers with this week’s reading. All at last seems well between Joseph and his family and for the future of the clan in Egypt. And then, Joseph tells his brothers not to tell Pharaoh what their true profession is (shepherds, because, allegedly, shepherds are detested by Egyptians).  Nevertheless, when the brothers actually encounter the Ruler of Egypt, they explain that they are indeed shepherds.  Pharaoh not only fails to reject them, but actually offers to hire them to look after his own flocks.

               Why first did Joseph suggest that his brothers withhold the truth from Pharaoh about the source of their livelihood? Was he afraid of the embarrassment that a “noble Egyptian” would face when it became known that his brothers were simple shepherds? Was he a bit less secure in his position than we might have assumed? Whatever motivated Joseph’s suggestion, the brothers ignored it. They tell Pharaoh that they are shepherds and are assigned the best pastures in the land. Joseph’s potential concerns are revealed to be without merit.

               This lack of certainty about one’s status has been a common feature of Jewish identity in the Diaspora. Jews have almost always felt insecure; at those times when they felt most secure, the results were often horrendous. Even in the enlightened United States of the 21st century, we remain acutely sensitive to indications of anti-Semitism. Joseph dealt with his fears by securing land and opportunity for his family. We can deal with our own doubts by supporting the State of Israel and those organizations which remain vigilant against the curse of anti-Semitism. We can never be really safe, but we can be secure in our ability to fight the lies and injustice levelled against us.

Happy Thanksgivukah and Shabbat Shalom

Mikketz

Gen. 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 again with the still-unrevealed 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.

             

As we all know, this year we have an unprecedented overlap between Chanukah and Thanksgiving, with the first candle being lit on the Wednesday night prior to the national American holiday. (This is giving rise to something called “Thanksgivukah” and I continue to wonder why Adam Sandler has not yet issued a new recording to celebrate this “new holiday!) For many, Chanukah resonates with American traditions of rebellion against the oppressors, of success of the weak against the strong, and the restoration of a nation, based on tolerance and liberty. There’s another side to this story.

            New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote (12/10/09) about the historical facts of Chanukah which are usually overlooked in our annual telling of the story. He suggests that while we usually think of this holiday as primarily one for children, it is in fact a most adult observance. He notes that it is an occasion when we celebrate terrible actions by the “good guys,” (violence by the Maccabees against their fellow Jews) and positive acts by the “bad guys” (the beneficial impact of Hellenist culture on the development of rabbinic Judaism).

            Chanukah is not simply about a revolt against the Greek/Syrian rulers. It is a story of a Jewish civil war between, on the one hand, “reformers” who wanted to incorporate the Greek traditions of logic, reasoned argument, and scholarly debate into the Jewish faith and, on the other hand, what we might call “fundamentalists” who saw any deviation from the existing traditions as a threat to the survival of their faith. It was a fight between those in favor of pluralism and those who abhorred diversity. (Additionally, it was a fight about which family would serve as the High Priests of the Temple.)

            From this point of view, there is an uncanny parallel with the tensions existing today in the Jewish world. Different constituencies of the 21st century Jewish people have distinctly different points of view about Chanukah. The West Bank settlers see the Maccabees as a heroic minority fighting against a corrupt and collaborationist establishment. As Brooks suggests, other see the Maccabees as the first of “a bunch of angry, bearded religious guys [out] to win an insurgency campaign against a great power in the Middle East.” The success of the Maccabees, and their ascendancy to both the civil and the religious leadership of the time, led very quickly to a corrupt regime. The Hasmoneans would soon invite the Romans into Jerusalem to restore the civil order they were unable to maintain in a divided society, and this was the beginning of the end of the Jewish state. 

            From a religious perspective, deep divides remain between traditionalist-fundamentalist Jews on the one hand and those who perceive the need to reconcile tradition with the modern world in which we live. As we bring light into our homes with the chanukiah kindling, it’s my hope we can bring the light of tolerance and understanding to ourselves and all of k’lal Yisrael, the People of Israel. Happy Chanukah, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Speaking Peaceably

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 is married to the widow (“levirate marriage.”) The second son (Onan) dies, and 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 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.”

Gen. 37:4   “And when his [Joseph's] brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.”

As we all know, the Book of Genesis is filled with stories of sibling rivalry (Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Jacob and Esau, and here among the sons of Jacob). Joseph is given a special coat by his doting father, and is sent out to report on (spy on?) his brothers. The phrase here which merits closer inspection is the Hebrew “lo yachlu” (they could not speak peaceably with him). What does this mean?

               Rashi suggests that they simply held their silence. Other commentators state that they spoke to him roughly and angrily.  But the phrase certainly means that the brothers were agitated with Joseph and his favored status with their father. Joseph has not helped his own case by acting in a condescending and prideful manner (as he tells them of his dreams of dominance over them). This barely-contained emotional hatred by the brothers is an appropriate prerequisite for their subsequent plot to kill him, although they wind up selling him into slavery instead.

               Our text speaks to the pressures and strife of familial relationships. When we give in to our anger (even when justified) we reject our ability to see or act peaceably. The brothers could not speak peaceably to Joseph, and allowed their hatred to rule their actions. Even though the story works out well in the end (when Joseph says, in effect, “it was all God’s plan”), the family experiences grief, pain, and guilt. All could have been avoided by thoughtful and peaceable communications. But such communications were largely impossible in the context of antagonism which had its roots in familial favoritism.

               We need to be on guard at all times to avoid taking actions which interfere with or prevent our ability to communicate with others openly, freely and without fear of reprisal.

Facing One's Fears

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.

Gen. 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.”

Our Jewish texts teach us about the dangers of assuming that others have an evil intent, and acting according to our assumption.  Abraham assumes Pharaoh will steal Sarah (Genesis 12:11−20) and endangers his wife by allowing her to be placed in Pharaoh’s harem. Joseph’s brothers assume that he will exact revenge against them after he reveals his true identity to them (Genesis 50:15−21). In this parasha, Jacob assumes that Esau will attack him upon their reunion after a twenty year separation, and takes elaborate steps to avoid that anticipated outcome. However, Esau greets Jacob with warmth and tears.

               Jacob had spent much of his life running away from his brother Esau (who, after all, had threatened to kill him). Esau was a “man of the field” and impulsive (e.g., the story or the red stew and the sale of his birthright). But impulsive people live in the moment; they may forget their threats. Here, it appears that Jacob suffers one of the punishments of the Torah’s Tochacha (“Admonition”) [“You shall flee though none pursues” (Lev.26:17)].

               I ask a question: how frequently do we assume the worst in others, and take actions accordingly?  Do we separate ourselves from others – fellow congregants, friends, or family members - because we project our fears onto them and then assume that they will react in a way which we assume will be difficult or dangerous or painful? Do we “flee” without pursuit?

               Facing those whose reactions we fear takes strength. Jacob dithered, but eventually had the courage to face Esau. Things turned out well. May the same be true with each of us.

E pluribus unum

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. Jacob then works for Laban an additional six years, 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 28:11 “He took from the stones of that place and laid down his head.”

         

          Jacob, fleeing from his brother, arrives at the end of his first day’s journey, and finds rest on a pile of stone pillows. But when he wakens a few verses later (after the famous ladder dream), the text switches from the plural to the singular:  “Rising up early that morning, Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up as a monument” (Gen. 28:18).  

          Our sages of course could not allow this grammatical change to take place without commentary. One midrash tells a wonderful tale: the stones argued about which would be the one to have the honor of upholding Jacob’s head until they began to merge into one and became the single stone that Jacob slept upon.

               The moral to the story: some people can be as hard as rocks, being “stony” and unbending.  However, if there is sufficient need (and discussion), they can come together in unity.

               In recent weeks, we’ve all watched our governmental leaders act like a bunch of rocks: unbending and unwilling to join together. It’s been a challenge to see whether unity can be achieved, all the more problematic given that unity and agreement are so important to us right now. I wish that I could awaken tomorrow like Jacob, with a single stone pillow. Somehow, I doubt that will be the case, and I (and all of us) will need to continue dealing with a bunch of rocks that refuses to meld into one. Our American leaders have forgotten to look at the motto on the Great Seal: E pluribus unum, Latin for "Out of many, one.” Maybe they have rocks in their heads instead of under them! As for unity in the Knesset, I’ll leave that for another time.

Generations and Relationships

Toldot
Genesis 25:19-28:9

Précis: The introductory phrase to this parasha is “These are the generations (“toldot”) 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 visits 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, to where he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Gen. 25:19-20 “And this is the lineage of Isaac, son of Abraham. Abraham begat Isaac. And Isaac was forty years old when he took as wife Rebecca, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean, sister of Laban.”

We begin this week’s reading with this verse, telling us that this is the lineage of Isaac.  The Hebrew word, “toldot” comes from the Hebrew root, yud-lamed-dalet, which is a root connected to childbirth, and is the same root for the word we usually translate as “begot.”
               
It is interesting to note that the same word “toldot” is used in the creation story, where we read in Genesis 2:4 “This is the chronicle (toldot) of heaven and earth . . .” Obviously, the heavens and the earth cannot be “giving birth” so our English uses a different translation. But something is lost in that translation. To the listeners (not necessarily readers) of the text, the Hebrew word “toldot” is a marker meant to tell us that we are about to hear a story: this is the story of Isaac, this is the story of the creation, etc.             

With this understanding, we might understand a link between humanity and the physical world. Our own stories are inexorably tied to the world in which we live. This implies that there is the need to recognize a connection between the spiritual and the material world, and to emphasize that it is our responsibility to make sure we see to the earth’s survival.
                
On another level, “begetting” in our text involves a personal, intimate human relationship; it is the basis for the “story” which ensues. It’s only when we have an intimate, personal relationship with other human beings that our own personal “stories” happen best. 

A Special Love

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.

Gen. 24:63-67 “And Isaac went out to meditate in the field in the afternoon and he raised up his eyes, and saw that camels were coming. And Rebecca lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac, she got off the camel. She said to the servant, ‘What man is this that walks in the field to meet us?’ And the servant said, ‘It is my master;’ then she took a veil, and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all things that he had done. And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebecca, and she became his wife; and he loved her, and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.”
                Do you remember the first time you glimpsed the love of your life? (I do, and it was not long after that I knew that she was the “one” for me. Happily, that moment occurred almost 43 years ago.)
               For those who think that our Torah text’s comments on romance are limited to the Song of Songs, we read this week of a remarkable story of love, between Rebecca and Isaac. Rebecca has been “found” by Abraham’s servant, and brought a distance to meet her intended. As the long (and probably uncomfortable) journey comes to an end, she spots Isaac, strolling through a field, and he notices the arrival of a caravan. Rebecca "looked up; seeing Isaac, she got off the camel" (24:64). The translation “got off” may in fact be more accurately translated as “fell off, “meaning she was physically “falling" for Isaac.
               She then asks the servant the man’s identity, asking who “this” man is. The Hebrew word used here for “this” (halazeh) is unusual. Because the text uses the same word to identify Joseph, who is described as handsome and fair of form, Midrash suggest that Rebecca felt Isaac to be a man of unusual good looks (Bereshit Rabbah 60:15). Learning that it is indeed Isaac, she covers herself in a veil, perhaps out of modesty or perhaps as a precursor to modern marriage ceremonies. The servant relays to Isaac “all that had transpired” in efforts to gain him a wife; Isaac takes her to his mother’s tent, where she comforts him; the text tells us “he loved her” (24:67), which is the first use of the word between a man and a woman in our Bible. As readers of “what happens next” we know that there would be strife and struggle between the two; years of barrenness, troublesome twins, and separation from their son Jacob for decades.
               But there must have been something special to their love: unlike Abraham his father and Jacob his son, Isaac stayed with a single wife throughout his life.
               In contrast to most of my weekly comments, this one is not intended to suggest ways in which a communal professional can work better, how we can connect more closely with the Divine, or how we might act better to our friend and families. The message here is simple: if you are blessed to find true love, cherish it.

Keep the Guests Happy!

Vayera

Genesis 18:1-22:24         

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They promise of 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 innocents 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 18:8   “And Abraham took curd, and milk, and the calf which he had dressed, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree, and they [the angels] did eat.”

               From this verse, the only verse in which we observe angels eating, the Rabbis deduced that it is necessary to conform to the social habits of the people in whose midst one lives. It would have been “impolite” of the angels not to partake of what Abraham so generously offered. For an Executive Director, this underscores the need to make sure that he or she fulfills the social expectations of the congregation. Does the congregation expect the family of the Executive Director to play a role in the congregation's life?  Do they anticipate that he or she will participant in the ritual life of the congregation?

               From another perspective, this brings to bear an important principle. If the Executive Director is to live as part of the congregation, then the congregation needs to treat the Executive Director as a valued participant, meaning, that he or she should be encouraged (and supported in efforts) to study Jewish texts and live a rich, Jewish life.

               Also from this verse, a much more mundane lesson can be learned. Abraham stood by while his guests ate. It's not a bad idea for an Executive Director (or any host, in fact) to wait at congregational meals until others have been served, before partaking personally.  After all, if it was good enough for Abraham, it's good enough for us.

               (As a personal aside: I often noticed that my beloved grandmother, Wilma David z’l, who was a wonderful cook, would not eat until all of her guests had been served. When I asked why, she said that it was simply being polite. I believe now that she learned the lesson from this Biblical story!)

The Importance of Names

Lech Lecha

Genesis 12:1 -17:27

Précis: This parasha, “get you up” or “go yourself” (lech lecha) begins with “the call” of Abram to leave his home and depart for 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 she escapes without harm. They then leave Egypt, with Abram now a rich man. To avoid family squabbles, Abram separates himself from his nephew Lot (who moves to Sodom), but Abram is forced to rescue Lot and reaches a negotiated settlement with the locals. God promises him an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar), and Hagar gives birth to a son, Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai, to be his true heir. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of the new Covenant with God, which is then symbolized by circumcision.

Genesis 17:5 "No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.”

               

Names are very significant in this parasha, and show how important they were to text of the entire Bible. Near the end of the weekly reading, the cited verse recounts a change of Abram’s name to Abraham. Similarly, Sarai becomes Sarah. The name changes denote a status change. They also set the table for other name changes in our text (perhaps most significant is Jacob’s re-naming as Israel).

              

But it is more than a status change in each situation. It is a mark of the end of a significant part of a journey. We are all engaged in our own “Jewish journeys” on a (hopefully) daily basis. Abraham is of course the prime example of the journey: from his father’s house, from his clan, and from his country, to a land of which he didn’t even know the identity. His physical journey, and that of Sarah, was accompanied by a deepening spiritual journey, bringing him closer to a comprehension of the Divine. He does not encounter God and remain passive, but has the encounter and takes action, without even questioning the Divine directive. Also in this parasha (14:13), he is referred to as "Ha-Ivri" ("the Hebrew") which derives from the word "l'avor" (to cross over). It seems that in addition to being a father of nations, he is also the One who Crossed Over to a new relationship with God; he is the one who responds "I am here" when God asks him "Where are You?"  His is a life worth living, with all of its failures and disappointments along the way.

               

Each of us has the ability to hear the Voice and His challenge if we open ourselves to it. How can we be more considerate and caring towards those we work for and with, and with our friends and families? Our tradition holds us capable of much improvement, through prayer, acts of loving-kindness, and through the pursuit of justice. Perhaps if we follow the example of Abram becoming Abraham, we can change our own “name” in our own little circle of humanity.

Arks and Towers

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. Then it rains for forty days and nights. Noah and his family are saved, and afterwards 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 11:1-9 “All the earth had the same language…and as man migrated from the east they settled in the valley… and they said, ‘’let us make bricks….and let us build a city and a tower with its top in the sky, and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered all over the earth.’ Adonai came down and said, ‘If, as one people with single voice this is how they have begun to act, then nothing will be out of their reach. Let us go down and confound their speech.’ Thus Adonai scattered them across the face of the earth.”

               

This week’s reading includes details about two building projects: Noah builds and Ark (6:14 and following), and his descendants build the Tower of Babel (11:1−9). God orders the building of the Ark, but the people themselves decide to build the Tower. As the text tells us, the people (presumably all of humanity was living together at the construction site) were subsequently scattered across the globe, with different languages. This penalty (and what, exactly was the crime?) is long-lasting in impact. We still feel the ramifications of ethnic conflict today arising out of God’s judgment at Babel.

               

The traditional view is that while Noah worked at God’s behest and according to God’s plan, the builders of the Tower were acting alone, at their own initiative and for their own purposes. Early commentators suggested that the rulers of Babel used force labor to create the Tower in an effort to turn people away from God towards their human rulers. One suggestion for the building of the Tower was to provide an escape should God decide to flood the world again (although why they would build the Tower in a valley argues against this suggestion). Tradition tells us that God’s judgment was based on the fact that the humans behind the building were tyrants, that they were seeking immunity from God’s future wrath, and that they were acting out of a sense of their own importance. God, in effect, “learns” that the people building the Tower had not absorbed the lesson of the Flood. Because He would not flood the world again, He found another means to punish evil-doers.

               

The reading this week offers us once again an opportunity to examine our free will and the choices we have. We can act righteously and in accord with our understanding of what God intends (like Noah building the Ark), or we can act in disregard of what is right and just, like the builders of the Tower. Choices are available people!

Ending and Beginning

Simchat Torah is one of the most festive occasions in our yearly cycle, when we demonstrate the importance of Torah to us by beginning the re-reading of Bereshit immediately after concluding the final verses of D’varim.

               During the evening service (as well as during the morning service) the Torah scrolls are removed from the Ark and we engage in hakafot (parades around the congregation) accompanied by song and dance.

               The final parasha of the Torah, V’zot HaBracha (Deut. 33:1-34:12) is read only on Simchat Torah (and not on Shabbat). The reading tells us that each Tribe receives a blessing from Moses, and that he then ascends Mt. Nebo, from which he sees the Land he will not enter. Moses dies, and is buried in an unknown grave (according to Midrash, by God Himself).The People mourn Moses for 30 days, and Joshua assumes command. According to one traditional source, Joshua penned the final lines of the parasha, which record Moses’ death and burial, and the statement that since the death of Moses, no prophet of his greatness has ever arisen.

               Moses dies without achieving his dream, and another takes up the burden of leadership. This brings to mind a verse from Pirke Avot (2:21): "It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it." This is a message for all of in Jewish communal work, and it is also an excellent metaphor for Simchat Torah. The reading (and studying) of the text will never be completed, but we are not permitted to abandon it.

Immediately following the Simchat Torah reading, we begin with Genesis again, and we will read it in full this coming Shabbat. Here is a brief d’var on Bereshit:

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, and God rests on the Seventh. The story of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are included, as is the story of Cain and Abel.

Genesis 4:8 “...And when they were in the field, Cain set upon his brother Abel and killed him.”

               The killing of Abel by Cain shows a remarkable revolution in human behavior. While Adam and Eve had sinned against God directly, and were punished directly, the death of Abel at Cain's hand showed that thereafter, choices of good and evil were to be made in the context of human relationships.

               For the Executive Director (as well as other readers of these words), choices of "good or evil" are made in the context of a community. We happen to work (usually) in a community of faith and caring.  It is important to keep in mind that when we interact with others, it is more than "dealing" with "customers." How we treat our congregants, friends and family is a reflection on how we relate to God.

Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom.

A time for seeking and a time for losing

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 5-6 "A season is set for everything, a time for every experience under heaven...A time for embracing and a time for shunning embraces; a time for seeking and a time for losing, a time for keeping and a time for discarding."

      On Sukkot, we read the Book of Ecclesiastes (in Hebrew, Kohelet, meaning “one who convenes a gathering”). The English name is a Latin translation of a Greek word meaning “gatherer” but is usually translated as “preacher” or “teacher.” King Solomon is by tradition considered to be its author, although many believe it was written in the 3rd century BCE, as part of the “Wisdom Literature” which was written at that time.

     Kohelet appears at first glance to reject much of life as empty and meaningless (“all is vanity”). On another level, it can be viewed as a search for wisdom by its author, who concludes that the only purpose of life is to live according to God’s commandments, while enjoying God’s gifts during one’s lifetime as well. This dichotomy may be why we read the Book on this holiday: enjoy what God has given us, even while we dwell in temporary huts which remind us that all can be taken from us so easily.

     Erica Brown has written on this verse (Weekly Jewish Wisdom, 8/29/13), “Ecclesiastes is reminding us that sometimes we fail in the arena of intimacy. We fail to embrace when we should. And in other aspects of our relationships, we are stuck in drama or toxicity and have not made the space to move away.”
     
     If there is indeed a time for seeking and a time for losing, perhaps we should really think hard about what we are seeking (success? love? health? thanks?) We should also be thinking about what we should be losing (anger? laziness? frivolity? insecurity?).

     Kohelet’s demand to evaluate what we are looking for and what we are trying to lose occurs in connection with the festival of Sukkot, when we are commanded to be joyful. Our evaluation of what to find and what to lose needs to take place in a joyful context. It serves as a reminder that while the Book of Life may have been sealed on Yom Kippur, the search for how to live a life with recognition of God’s gifts has not ended.

Jonah's Ambiguity, and ours

    At the afternoon (mincha) service on Yom Kippur, we read the Book of Jonah. Jonah is an unusual prophet. He is reluctant and tries to avoid God’s instructions. He addresses his message to non-Jews. After succeeding, he becomes distressed that the citizens of Nineveh actually listen and sincerely repent.

            Most of us assume that the story is read to stress the possibility of repentance: the people of Nineveh repent from their sins and are saved from destruction. But there may be another reason we read this book on Yom Kippur, just before the gates begin to symbolically close during the ensuing Neilah service: Jonah represents us. Like Jonah, we are reluctant to face up to the demands that are made of us, even when they are proper and appropriate. Sometimes it seems that the responsibility is too great, but other times we become fearful of failure, or fearful of success.

            We are like Jonah when we are filled with doubt, and we are like Jonah when we brood about the consequences of our own actions. Like Jonah, our faith is tested, and our faith does not always receive a passing grade. We are like Jonah when we are forced to confront our fears. We may try to run, but Yom Kippur forces us to stop and look inside of ourselves, and ask, as the sailors ask Jonah, “Who are you?”

            Like the Book of Jonah, Yom Kippur does not end with certainty.  At the Book’s conclusion, Jonah repeats that he would rather die than live. He remains unclear why his mission was undertaken and uncertain as to why it succeeded. At the very end of the Book, God instructs Jonah on the need for mercy ("Should I not spare the city of Nineveh with 120,000 inhabitants?") We do not hear Jonah's response; the Book ends with ambiguity.

            We, too, are left with ambiguity. How will we be judged? Jonah didn’t know, and neither do we. However, we do have something which Jonah lacked: hope that things will be for the best. I offer my own hope to you and yours that  the coming year will be for all of  us one of health, happiness, sustenance, and a growing awareness of who we are and who we want to be.

Shana Tovah and Shabbat Shalom

Rosh Hashanah starts tonight, but I also wanted to send around a d'var for this coming Shabbat. Have a wonderful and meaningful holiday, and Shabbat Shalom.

Ha'azinu

Deuteronomy 32:1-52

Précis: The parasha, the shortest in the Five Books, containing only 52 verses, 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.

Deut. 32:1   “Listen, skies, so that I may speak and let the earth hear what my mouth says.”

                Yael Splansky teaches [10 Minutes of Torah (9/24/12)] that Moses’ speech abilities were transformed during the 40 years in the Wilderness. The man who was reticent about speaking to Pharaoh in Exodus 4:10 ("Please, O my Lord, I have never been a man of words… I am slow of speech and slow of tongue”) has been transformed into a loquacious and elegant speaker of words (Deuteronomy’s Hebrew name means “Words”). In the cited verse, the introduction to his final speech to the people, he utters a prophetic poem to the People which has also been translated as “Give ear, O heavens, let me speak; let the earth hear the words I utter! May my discourse come down as the rain, my speech distill as the dew, like showers on young growth…” Words are important, as Moses clearly understands in this final speech. 

               The same is true of hearing, or listening. Words may have meaning and weight, but they are nothing unless they are heard. Our Jewish world is inculcated both with words and with listening, as attested to by the recitation of the Sh’ma, which is a demand that we pay attention and really listen to the words presented to us.

               At this season, the words we recite are said together, publicly, and out loud. While we “say” and “speak” the words, we also need to “listen” and “hear” them as well. I’d suggest that speaking and listening are the distinguishing characteristics of our Jewish lives, and are, in addition, essential elements for maintaining a positive relationship with all of those around us.

               In this New Year, I hope we can all speak with intention, authority and wisdom, and that we can listen carefully, attentively, and with clarity.

Our busy season continues!

Nitzavim- Vayelech
Deut. 29:9 - 31:30

Précis:  In Nitzavim, 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 by observing 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. In Vayelech, the death of Moses approaches, and he transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua. 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.

Deut.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 woodchopper to water drawer, to enter into the covenant of Adonai  your God…”
             This year, the week’s Torah reading takes place at an extraordinary conjunction of events. We have just observed the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington, Shabbat approaches, S’lichot services will be held, Labor Day observed, and Rosh Hashanah will arrive, all within a few days.
          When Dr. King spoke of his dream, “deeply rooted in the American dream” it was also “deeply rooted” in the Jewish dream of Deuteronomy, with its emphasis on justice for the weakest members of society.
            The imagery of this verse, with all the people standing together, has implications for all of the events which crowd the coming days. Those who regularly attend Shabbat services know the particular sense of unity one may find with fellow congregants and worshippers, reminding us that it is our tradition alone among the religions of the world which requires public communal prayer.
            S’lichot, the service which bridges the end of Elul and the New Year, reminds us of the traditional themes of the season, when we seek, together, forgiveness for the sins WE have committed.
            On Labor Day, we are reminded that in unity there is strength, and that while unity among workers has done much for American society in the last 100 years, we now face a great challenge to its continuity, with an ever-widening divergence between the “haves” and the “have somes” and the “have nots.”
            We feel a unique sense of Jewish togetherness which spans the world on Rosh Hashanah. Jews in every country, from every ethnic and racial group, with markedly distinct and diverse ways of praying, all stand together as if at Sinai, and can experience a sense of “klal Yisrael” if only we allow ourselves the opportunity to feel it.

            May the unity we seek come to past in our lifetimes. May you and yours be blessed with a year of health and happiness.

Living with Fear and with Hope

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 of 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.

Deut. 28:66 “The life you face shall be precarious; you shall be in terror, night and day, with no assurance of survival.”

             This week’s reading is comprised of blessings and curses. The curses, called the "Admonition" or “rebuke” (tochacha) are so frightening that in many congregations, it is customary for the reader to recite the verses very rapidly, in a soft undertone, almost inaudibly to the congregation. With fifty-four verses of curses, this is not an easy task.

            This particular verse, however, is a curse with which we all live in the modern world. Life is precarious, and we are faced with terrors. Sudden death and illness spring up all around us. Loved ones unexpectedly and suddenly pass away. Reading the obits becomes a daily challenge. In the natural world, we experience storms like Hurricane Katrina or Superstorm Sandy; terrible floods and droughts occur, wild firestorms seem to be increasing, and the climate itself is changing. Add to these fears are concerns about terrorist attacks, be it the latest threat from Al Qaeda, unrest in the Middle East, or attacks on Israel.

            Economic anxiety is there as well. On a personal level, the past decade has taught us that no matter how well we prepare financially, there is always the threat of unemployment and financial loss. For those in congregational life, many face similar financial uncertainty with declining rates of affiliation and changes in demographics. We all walk around under a cloud of “precarious” uncertainty. How are we to overcome this modern curse, so well-articulated 3,000 years ago in our Torah?

            First, we need to acknowledge that we cannot control everything. We must prepare for the worst and pray for the best. 

            Second, we need to find strength in each other. Whether it is our family or our neighborhood or synagogue community, we can overcome hurdles only with the support of others, and we must lend support to those in need of our help and understanding.             

            Third, we need to reject fear, and recognize that fear is a contagion. We must inoculate ourselves against it by learning more about the world, by listening carefully to those wiser than ourselves, and by understanding that this too shall pass.

            Finally, we need to maintain hope. Yes, there are 54 curses leveled at us by this parasha. But there are blessings in the text, too, which are promised to those who live a life of concern and care for others. Shabbat Shalom

Parents and Children

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 social network. 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 21:18–21 “If a parent has a stubborn and rebellious son, who does not heed his father or mother and does not obey them even after they discipline him,  his father and mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his town at the public place of the community. They shall say to the elders of his town, ‘This son of ours is disloyal and defiant; he does not heed us. He is a glutton and a drunkard.’  Thereupon the residents of his town shall stone him to death. Thus you will sweep out evil from your midst: all Israel will hear and be afraid.”
                We have here every parent’s nightmare, and every parent’s experience.  Every child, at one time or another, displays some aspect of this nightmarish child. There are even times when parents would love to pursue this penalty.
               Once we calm down and think this through, we understand that this kind of punishment cannot be effectuated. Modern parenting seems to reject physical acts of punishment and substitute the “time out”   or perhaps a visit to a therapist (maybe many visits!). A mom who swats her son on the rear end in a grocery store will be stared at best, and accused of child abuse at worst.
               The rabbis understood this passage in light of the need for discipline of children, but agreed that the execution of a child who is “stubborn and rebellious” was highly problematic. They established a long list of prerequisites to the imposition of the sentence (BT Sanhedrin 68b–72a: the child must steal from his parents must be tried by twenty-three judges, and both parents must agree to the death sentence. The child needed to be both a glutton and a drunkard. Additional requirements were added as to the child’s age, warnings, and previous punishments. So many restrictions were added by the rabbis that, according to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 71a) “There never was, nor will there ever be, a child who meets all of the legal qualifications of the ‘wayward and rebellious son.’ Hence, this punishment was never inflicted.
               Why does this commandment appear in our text, if it was never and can never be enforced? One answer may be that the Torah is teaching us that parents are limited in their ability to discipline a child; it certainly teaches that there are better ways of instilling positive values than stoning to death! It may also be a subtle way of reminding us that parents are supposed to set boundaries for the behaviors of their children and that children are supposed to observe them, but that reality tells us that boundaries are ignored from time to time.

               The Talmudic explanation and exegesis of these verses also teaches us that parents need to speak with one voice, and that they need to convey their expectations of behavior clearly and unambiguously to their children. But even then, no child is “perfect.” If the child remains “stubborn and rebellious” should we blame the parents? I think not. The Torah teaches us that each person is responsible for his or her own actions. If we as parents do the best job we can in communicating and modeling our beliefs and values to our children, we can only hope that they will incorporate their values into their own personalities. Today, we may be living in a society of delayed maturation, but there comes a time when our children, of whatever age, become responsible for their own actions. If you are a parent, the month of Elul offers an opportunity for a “teaching moment” about accepting responsibility of one's actions.

Do not fear

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 posed by mortal kings. The parasha 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.

Deuteronomy 20:1-3 "When you take the field against your enemies, and see horses and chariots, forces larger than yours,  have no fear (lo tira) of them, for the Eternal your God, who brought you from the land of Egypt, is with you. Before you join battle, the priest shall come forward and address the troops. He shall say to them: 'Hear, O Israel! You are about to join battle with your enemy. Let not your courage falter. Do not be in fear (al tir'u!), or in panic, or in dread of them'.”

                

Yael Splansky has examined the phrase “do not fear” with a very revealing analysis (10 Minutes of Torah 8/20/12) on how that phrase is used often in the Bible. The command or statement appears frequently, and we find it in Exodus 14:13, with the Israelites at the Red Sea as Pharaoh’s army approached, and again when Joshua prepares for the battle of Jericho (Joshua 8:1). This statement is not restricted to the battlefield: Avram is told not to fear as he sets forth to a new land (Gen.15:1-5); Hagar, ready to die after being expelled from Abraham’s household, is told "Have no fear" (Gen. 21:17); when Jacob prepares for his reunion with Joseph in Egypt, God encourages him not to fear (Gen. 46:3). In every generation, it seems, God’s reassurance is required. As is stated in Isaiah 41:10, "Fear not, for I am with you; do not be frightened, for I am your God".

               

The frequent repetition of this commandment tells us that our heroic biblical figures were, in fact, human: they had fears. It also tells us that God is greater than the sum of all human fears, and can support his fearful followers with a quiet whisper or a strong command.

               

But there is another “fear” in Jewish tradition, namely, the “fear of God” (yirat Adonai) which is distinct from the repetition of statements of comfort. While this “fear” is sometimes translated as reverence or awe, it remains a complex concept, both simple and profound. We conclude our Shabbat morning service with the hymn “Adon Olam,” the last line of which includes a phrase taken from Psalm 118, “Adonai li v’lo ira" (God is with me, I shall not fear). Is this a statement of real belief, or is it aspirational or hopeful? Do we really believe it? The new month of Elul began on Wednesday; we are entering a season when we “return” again to examine our inner-most beliefs and thoughts. Yirat Adonai means that not only our actions are called into question, but our beliefs as well.