Just a Man

Vayeshev

Gen. 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. 37:14-17 “And he (Jacob) said to him (Joseph), ‘Go and see how your brothers are and how the flocks are faring, and bring me back word.’ So, he sent him from the valley of Hebron. When he reached Shechem, a man came upon him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, ‘What are you looking for?’ He answered, ‘I am looking for my brothers. Could you tell me where they are pasturing?’ The man said, ‘‘‘They have gone from here, for I heard them say, ‘Let us go to Dothan.’’’ So, Joseph followed his brothers and found them in Dothan.”

            We see here a most unusual aspect of Torah text. Joseph encounters “a man.” While speakers are usually identified, this “man” is unknown (at least in the text). The Sages offer a variety of explanations: Rashi says he is the angel Gabriel. Maimonides also assumes that the stranger is an angel, just as the unnamed “man” struggled with Jacob/Israel. Nahama Leibowitz suggests that this brief dialog is here to show that God is working behind the scenes, so that the rest of the story could unfold. 

            But what if the “man” was simply a “man?” The traditional analysis is to the contrary, but let’s assume that the man was simply a stranger who Joseph encounters. His action – telling Joseph where to find his brothers – is a critical element in the development of the story, and, eventually, in the history of the Jewish People. This suggests that random encounters and random acts of kindness can have incredibly long-lasting impacts. Whether we are involved in congregational leadership, in family activities, or (perhaps even more important) in our interactions with strangers, we should remain mindful of the potentia impact of a small act of kindness to another.

What's in a name?

Vayishlach

Gen. 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 in childbirth. 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. 32:25–30 “Jacob remained alone. A man struggled with him until dawn. He realized that he could not overpower him, so he struck at his hip-joint, dislocating it during the struggle. The man said, ‘Let me go, for dawn has arrived!’ Jacob replied, ‘I will not let you go until you bless me.’ He asked him, ‘What then is your name?’ ‘Jacob.’ He said, ‘You shall no longer be called Jacob, but rather Yisrael, because you have struggled with gods and with men and prevailed.’ Jacob said, ‘Tell me your name.’ The man replied, ‘You must not ask my name!’ He then blessed him.”

Dr. Joshua Kulp reminds us (Torah Sparks, 11/29/17) of the following statement of the Sages:

“There are three names by which a person is called:
one which their parents call them, one which people call them,
and one which they earn for themselves.
The last is the best one of all.”

            Jacob begins his life grasping at his brother’s heel. As he grows, almost every episode shows his deceptive character (taking his brother’s birthright for lentils, securing the blessing of the first-born through deception, and mysteriously taking ownership of his father-in-law’s flocks.). As Kulp suggests, Jacob was an “identity-hider.”

            Now at this most critical moment of his life, he wrestles with another figure, having been left alone. With nowhere to hide, and no one to hide anything from. Jacob is finally struggling to form a new identity.

            Many of us live lives in which we hide our identities from others, and even from ourselves. Finding out who we really are involves our own kind of wrestling, and it is hard work. But this work can bring great confidence as well as blessing. Jacob prevails against his foe. More importantly, he has prevailed over his own fear of showing to the world his true character. While he may still be called Jacob, he is now earned the name Israel, a name which can be translated as one who struggles with God. Yisrael is the name destined to change the history of the world. We can earn our own names through fearless self-examination and struggle. That “name” may not change the world, but it can change the way in which we are regarded by those we love.

This Must Be The Place

Vayetze

Gen. 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 another 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.

Gen. 28:16 “And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not.'"

As a general rule, our text specifically identifies places of importance. In the stories of the march through the Wilderness following the Exodus from Egypt, it seems that every place or area is identified and often re-identified. In last week’s reading, Isaac names every place where he digs wells which Abraham had previously dug. In the cited verse above, “the place” (in Hebrew, “hamakom”) is left unnamed. This is despite rabbinic tradition that it is the same place where God made the original Covenant with Abraham and with Isaac, and now again with Jacob.

            When a location is important in our text, it is often given a name which connects to the experience there. Why is this not the case with the current situation, where it remains simple “the place?”

            A variety of answers are offered by the Sages. Some suggest that “the place” is a location for prayer, since one of God’s names is “HaMakom.” Others suggest that the name is left out so that we concentrate on what events occurred there. In other words, “the place” refers not to a location but to the experience which happens there. Jacob did not intend to stop at a particular place, but he stopped, slept, and unexpectedly dreamed.

            Jacobs realizes that God was there, but that he had failed to know it. At times, some of our most significant experiences are spontaneous and unexpected. This may arise when we have a religious encounter, a moment of true kavanah. Our text is asking us to be open to such occurrences, and to appreciate God’s presence in our lives. Be ready for the transcendent moment when (or where) we least expect it.

Keturah

Chayye Sarah

Gen. 23:1-25:18

Précis: The parasha begins with the counting the days 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 plot.

Gen.  25:1 “Abraham took another wife, whose name was Keturah.” 

            It may be more than a little interesting, although rarely talked about much, that Abraham remarries in his old age, and then proceeds to father 6 sons, all of whom become the fathers themselves of nations, helping to fulfill Abraham’s prophesized role as the father of “nations.”  The text tells us almost nothing about his wife, Keturah. As is often the case when our text omits particulars about which the reader would be interested, the Sages provide a rich set of Midrashim to tell us about this mysterious woman who becomes the wife (not concubine!) of Abraham. Many suggest that Keturah was in fact Hagar, mother of Ishmael.

            Rashi suggests through some Hebrew wordplay that this in fact is the case. The name “Keturah” has the same Hebrew root (k-t-r) as the Hebrew word for “incense” and the Aramaic verb “to bind.” He states: “She was called Keturah because her deeds were as pleasing as incense…. from the day she left Abraham, she did not couple with any man,” suggesting that Hagar remained “bound” (loyal) to Abraham. Through this display of loyalty, she received a new name. This idea is rejected by the Rashbam (Rashi’s grandson and an eminent commentator himself) who says that the plain meaning of the text tells us that Keturah is not Hagar.  

            But if we consider Hagar as Keturah, we can see another example of how the Sages stressed the importance and possibility of reconciliation, a theme displayed so often in our text. And that sense of reconciliation is enhanced by the concluding episode of this week’s reading, when Ishmael and Isaac together bury Abraham. A lesson on the need and hope for familial reconciliation, indeed.

Generations

Vayera

Gen. 18:1-22:24         

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They promise 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 family 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).

Gen. 22:13 “Abraham lifted his eyes: he could now see a ram caught by its horns in a thicket. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it as a burnt offering in place of his son.”

One aspect of the Akedah story which bears discussion is the connection between parent and child, between father and son. As a father of two boys, this story has always had great resonance with me (and, perhaps, with them as well). The story contains clues that all is not as it appears at first reading, in which  it appears that Abraham is hiding his intent from Isaac. This has led to Rabbinic midrash suggesting that Isaac knew what would transpire and was a willing participant. Others suggest that he was naïve and clueless.

            We see that Isaac fails to return with his father at the story’s conclusion. The father and son never again speak to each other. Is this an important omission of the text, suggesting that there was an emotional break between the two as a result of this traumatic experience? If we assume Isaac knew what would transpire, what is the rationale for the separation? On the other hand, if he was not aware of what awaited him on top of Mount Moriah, Isaac had serious cause not to forgive his father for putting faith before love. What a traumatic experience!

            One challenge all parents face is maintaining a connection with children who have different experiences, different lives, and different expectations than we might have had for them. On one hand, this is a story of a father and son who barely communicate beforehand, but on the other hand are deeply connected in an important way. Even if we assume that Isaac was not aware of his fate, surely, he had the ability to keep his 100 year plus father from tying him up and offering him as a sacrifice. Isaac seems to have been a willing participant on some level, evidence of a sense of shared connection with his father. They belong to different generations, as do we and our offspring, but a connection was and therefore could be maintained. Abraham and Isaac walk together to the mountain, but leave separately. Something happened there, but what it was is not exactly clear. Nevertheless, a remnant of a connection is maintained, as exemplified in the next parasha, when Abraham sends his servant to find a bride for Isaac, and that Isaac will attend the burial of his father along with his half-brother Ishmael.

            All relationships face trials and trauma. How we react and maintain a connection is the key to the viability of families and the People of Israel.

Judaism and Human Rights

Lech Lecha

Gen. 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 Abraham’s circumcision.

Gen. 12:1 “And Adonai said to Abram, ‘Go forth from your land and your birthplace and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’”

            Dr. Shaiya Rothberg, writing in Torah Sparks (10/20/18) asks a basic question: why was it necessary for Abram to leave his homeland in order for him to succeed as God’s herald? The Sages suggested that he needed to leave a corrupt environment, but we know that Canaan was also a corrupt environment (see, e.g., Sodom).

            Rothberg cites the Sforno, who offers another explanation: “...when it was apparent that there was no longer any hope that the human race as a whole would repent...God then chose a pious man from among the entire species, Avraham, and his seed, to attain through them the goal intended by God from the moment humanity had been placed on earth.”

            God knew that Avraham would teach his children to do justice and righteousness (Gen. 18:19). So when they endured the slavery of Egypt, they understood that an oppressed minority maintained its rights. The root sin of Egypt was its belief that slavery and oppression were legitimate. On the other hand, Jewish law and tradition are based on the concept that there is to be equality between the citizen and the stranger. The state does not grant human rights, but rather human rights give rise to the state.

            Today’s so-called “alt-right” anti-Semites believe in “blood and soil” as the basis of state authority. Nothing could be further from Jewish tradition and law.  It is also the reason why Abram left his father’s land: his new community would not be based on “blood and soil” but rather on the belief that all are created in God’s image and with it a commitment to human dignity.

            Our Founding Father George Washington, in his famous letter to the Jews of Rhode Island, renounced the concept that “tolerance” was the basis for recognizing the rights of “others.” It is indeed a basic human right of all of us. What is asked o us? Only that we pursue justice.

Nature, Morality, and Justice

Noach

Gen. 6:9-11:32

Précis: The story of Noah (Hebrew: Noach) and the Flood appear in this parasha. Noah, called by God, builds the Ark and collects the animals. It rains for forty days and nights. Noah and his family are saved, and afterward 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 with sexual overtones takes place with his sons. The story of the Tower of Babel is included in this parasha, and it ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, concluding with Abram.

Gen. 6:13 “The earth became corrupt before God; the earth was filled with lawlessness. When God saw how corrupt the earth was, for all flesh had corrupted its ways on earth, God said to Noah, ‘I have decided to put an end to all flesh, for the earth is filled with lawlessness because of them: I am about to destroy them with the earth.’”

             Mark Gary, writing in Torah from JTS (10/15/15) notes that these verses raise important questions about the relationship between the natural world, humanity’s morality, and God’s justice.

            At first, the story is simple: God is revealing his authority over nature to punish evil, while protecting the innocent (Noah and his family). This is a seminal Jewish belief, which we recite with the Shema every day: if we follow God’s law, the natural world will sustain us.  But if we don’t obey the mitzvot, the world will turn on us.

            Despite its significance, this is a troublesome theology, because it does not correspond with reality. It leads to fundamentalists blaming hurricanes or floods on sin. But it is not only modern folks who are troubled by this matter. Rashi saw the tale of Noah with more nuance. Rashi says, “Wherever you find sexual sin and idolatry, andralamousia [summary mass execution] comes to the world and kills good and bad [indiscriminately].” In other words, natural disasters do not discriminate between the innocent and the guilty; they ignore morality.

            Although Rashi concedes that natural disasters do not discriminate between the innocent and the guilty, he still insists that there is a connection between nature and morality. Rashi highlights the cause of the Flood as “sexual sin” such that there were no sexual borders relating to marriage, familial relationships, or even species. Such behavior is essentially narcissistic, and ignores the well-being of others.  In this light, Rashi sees the Flood as a Divine sentence resulting from the erasure of all moral borders.

            If there is a link between moral behavior and nature, it may be this: when we act only for ourselves and ignore the needs of others and future generations who will rely on our world, we bring humanity closer to the deluge.

Adam I and Adam II

Bereshit

Gen. 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 stories of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are included, as is the story of Cain and Abel.

            We begin the annual reading of the Five Books of Moses immediately upon its conclusion. Why? Perhaps it is because with each passing year, our experiences allow us to understand more of what life has to offer, and what the text has to offer. Yohanan Ben Bag Bag said (Pirke Avot 5:25), “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.”

Gen. 2:7 “The Lord God formed man from the dust of the earth. He blew in his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being.”

            In The Lonely Man of Faith, Rabbi Soloveitchik suggests that the first chapters of Bereshit offer two contradictory images of Adam. The first Adam is a “majestic man,” who uses his creativity to master his environment as mandated by God. The second Adam is a “covenantal man” who accedes to the will of God. Soloveitchik explains how a person of faith needs to unite both aspects described.

            Adam I (Chapter 1) is created with Eve. They are given the directive to control nature, a characteristic which the Rabbi calls “majestic.” Adam deals with the world in pragmatic, without much specific direction from God.

            Soloveitchik identifies Adam II (Chapter 2) as the “covenantal man.” While Adam I was told to rule the garden, Adam II is the keeper of the garden who tills and preserves it. This agrarian image of Adam II is introduced by God’s comment that “It is not good for man to be alone” and by God’s creation of Eve through Adam’s sacrifice of a rib. Unlike Adam I, this “covenantal” Adam needs the participation of the Divine. Thus, in the second Chapter, it is insufficient for Adam to be created in God’s image and given a fiefdom; Adam II is “the lonely man of faith” who seeks to engage with God. Soloveitchik does not declare one image of Adam to be right and the other wrong: the human struggle is both spiritual and material, both mystical and scientific.

            How does this apply to us today? Perhaps it is this: in our own struggle, we should not, like Adam I, focus solely on the material or be satisfied with our ostensible rulership over the earth. Instead, like Adam II, we need to devote ourselves to trying to be more humble, more concerned with the welfare of others, and to seek to enhance our covenant with God, with all that it implies, and as you understand it.

Be Joyful

Shabbat Chol Moed Sukkot

Ex. 34:6-7 “Adonai, Adonai, God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth; keeping mercy to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin…”       

            On Shabbat during Sukkot, we read passages from Exodus, just after the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses goes back up the Mountain, and returns with a second set of tablets. When he comes down, he recites the words of the verse quoted here

            It is no coincidence that the reading this week includes these words we repented often on Yom Kippur. I find this a profoundly hopeful concept: no matter how often we fall short of the mark, we can be forgiven.

                Perhaps this is why we are commanded to be joyful on Sukkot (the Hebrew phrase is “u’smach-tem”). While all holidays have commandments associated with them, this is the only one for which happiness is a requirement. Why Sukkot?

            First, this is a harvest festival. Coming so soon after Yom Kippur, a bountiful harvest was viewed as proof of God’s forgiveness and mercy. Second, when we live or eat in flimsy booths, we recognize that we can be happy with very little, and that we can rejoice with what we have.  We need not express the attitude that we wish things were better, or that problems cannot be overcome. Such an attitude ignores the blessings we experience daily.  

            I wish you and yours a Shabbat Shalom, and a happy and joyous Chag.

A Scary Verse?

Ha’azinu

Deut. 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 with 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. He 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. 32:52 “You may view the land from a distance, but you shall not enter it, the land that I am giving to the Israelite people.”

            Rabbi Arie Hasit, writing in Torah Sparks (9/22/17), connects this verse with the current season, when we are concerned about our fate and the “Book of Life.” He calls this verse “a scary one.” Moses’ great dream is denied, and his death foretold, despite his outstanding life of leadership, his face-to-face conversations with God, and his pleas for the welfare of the Jewish People. But because of a single act made in an instance of anger and frustration, he is denied t’shuvah and his fate is sealed.

            On the other hand, we can view this in a different light: Moses’ dream will be inherited by the People. He lives to see that his dreams will be fulfilled, albeit by others. This brings to mind the saying of Pirke Avot: “It is not your obligation to complete the task, but you are nevertheless not free to desist from it.” In other words, while we may not be able to perfect our families, our communities, or the world, we are not at liberty to stop trying.

            When chanting “U’ntaneh Tokef” during the Yamim Noraim, we were asking who will live and who will die. How do we make sense of the knowledge that good people will leave us in the coming year?  Hasit suggests that Ha’azinu gives us a clue. Death is not a punishment, because it makes us human. Even Moses cannot live forever. Our prayer should remind us of the unexpededness of life, and challenge us to think about how we will make the most of every minute we have with the people we love. 

The Second Mountain

Vayeilech

Deut. 31:1-31:30

Précis: The Israelites are instructed to annihilate the seven Canaanite nations and take possession of the Promised Land. 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.

Deut. 31:1-11 “Moses went and spoke these things to all Israel. He said to them: I am now one hundred and twenty years old, I can no longer go out and come in, for God has said to me, ‘You shall not cross this Jordan.’"

            Rabbi Jonathon Sacks has written about the challenge of aging (Covenant and Conversation 9/12/18), noting that it has become a growing problem with the expansion of life expectancy in most of the world. He asks us, “What will keep you young in spirit even if the body does not always keep pace?” This is a challenge I find particularly intriguing (as I become eligible for the 70+ softball league next spring).
            Moses, of course, is the case study for this challenge.  Sacks cites David Brook’s concept of the “second mountain.” Brooks found that people over 70 had early in their lives identified the mountain they were going to climb, whether personal or professional. By age 70, some had achieved it and were happy, others had achieved it and found it unsatisfactory, and others failed to achieve their mountain top. Brooks found, however, that at this stage of life, many saw the need to name a second mountain they wanted to climb. But this “second mountain” was not about achievement, but rather of giving in a spiritual, moral way, such as giving back to the community. Sacks maintains that this “second mountain” may in fact be more important that its predecessor.
            Moses is the paradigm. He had climbed the first mountain by being God’s servant and agent, and by leading His people from slavery to freedom. In the last stage of his journey he finally accepts the fact that he would not enter the Land. Moses now selects a “second mountain” by teaching Torah, warning the People not to stray. He provides what Sacks calls the “key verbs” of the Torah: “Remember, he says again and again; listen to the voice of God; rejoice in what He has given you.” Moses climbs his second mountain when he at last hands the leadership to Joshua.               

            On Shabbat Shuvah, when our thoughts turn inward to self-analysis, the “second mountain” suggests a life changing message for all of us:  what we have done in our lives so far is in the past; we have the chance to write another chapter. As Sacks says, “Hence the life-changing idea: Whatever your achievements, there is always a second mountain to climb, and it may turn out to be your greatest legacy to the future.”

            May you and yours be sealed in the Book of Life with health, prosperity, happiness, and the opportunity of finding your own “second mountain.”

Bring us together

Nitzavim

Deut. 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 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 Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life.

           

Deut. 30:2-3 “When you return to Adonai your God, and you and your children heed His command with all your heart and soul, just as I enjoin you this day, then Adonai your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where Adonai your God has scattered you.”

                As I have noted before, the first verb at the beginning of the verse (“return”) is in Hebrew “shav,” from a root meaning “turn back,” or “return.” The word “return” is repeated three times in the following verses, and this tells us much about the idea of repentance, or “t’shuvah” (from the same Hebrew root). Not coincidentally, the word, in one form or another, appears seven times in this chapter, and we read this chapter this year just days before Rosh Hashanah, when repentance is much on our minds.

            The conclusion of the second verse should be much on our minds: He will bring you together. As I write this week’s d’var, the hope for being brought “together” in Israel seems remote, with an inconclusive second election recently having taken place, and the struggle to form a new government under way. In addition, differences within the American Jewish community about the leadership of the U.S. Administration are divisive. Finally, we face the fact that Israel is in danger of losing its historical bi-partisan support in the United States, due in part to Netanyahu’s identification with a single U.S. political party, and with his warm, personal embrace by our President.

            A dark picture is indeed before as we approach the Yamim Noraim. We are not together in Israel, between the Jews of the Diaspora and those in Israel, nor among Jews in America. Yet, our tradition and our reading this week offers us the hope for unity, through t’shuvah. Self-examination is at the core of t’shuvah, and I personally plan on examining my own feelings about these issues during the coming weeks, and offer a prayer that Jews in Israel, in the United States, and around the world try, with God’s help, to come to an understanding of the need for unity. We have rarely needed it more than we do today.

            I wish all a Shanah Tovah, filled with personal health and happiness, and with new togetherness among k’lal Yisrael.

Until today

Ki Tavo

Deut. 26:1-29:8

Précis: The parasha contains numerous religious mandates 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.

Deut. 29:1-5 “Moses summoned all Israel and said to them: You have seen all that Adonai did before your very eyes in the land of Egypt…the wondrous feats that you saw with your own eyes, those prodigious signs and marvels. Yet until today Adonai has not given you a mind to understand or eyes to see or ears to hear. I led you through the wilderness forty years; the clothes on your back did not wear out, nor did the sandals on your feet….”

             An entire generation has witnessed God’s blessings and miracles, but fails to appreciate the source. The implication: God will protect us, just as he protected our ungrateful ancestors, despite their inability to learn from the past.

            These days, it seems that not learning from the past is not the real problem: we seem unable to learn from what happened yesterday, or earlier today! The text tells us that our ancestors were not able to appreciate God’s support because “until this day” God had not endowed them with the kind of self-awareness needed to appreciate His gifts or to learn from the past. But we have inherited this awareness. Our own sin is our failure to utilize it.

            As we approach the Yamim Noraim, perhaps we should add this to our confessional: for the sin we have committed by failing to learn from our errors.

The Lash?

Ki Tetze

Deut. 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.

Deut. 25:1–3“When there is a dispute between persons and they go to law, and a decision is rendered declaring the one in the right and the other in the wrong, if the guilty one is to be flogged, the magistrate shall have the person lie down and supervise the giving of the lashes, by count, as warranted by the offense. The guilty one may be given up to forty lashes, but not more, lest being flogged further, to excess, your brother be degraded before your eyes.”

               

                In these verses, we come face to face with corporal punishment, a practice which we reject in modern society. It may be that this “institution” was adopted because there were no prisons in ancient Israel, and some penalty short of death was required for relatively “minor” offenses.  Prison did exist in some other societies (as we know by Joseph’s imprisonment in Egypt). Here, we find concern for the criminal facing the lash. The lashes come only as a result of a sentence by a properly constituted court; they are limited in number; the offender had to be of sufficiently good health to survive the ordeal. Finally, the offender is referred to as one’s “brother” to indicate his essential humanity.

            In practice, lashes never exceed 39, to avoid the possibility of transgressing the numerical limit. Once punished, the offender returns to the community, in effect having paid his “debt to society.”

            In recent years, we have debated the impact of punishments which seem to exceed the limits of what the U.S. Constitution labels “cruel and unusual.” Those who rely on so-called “original intent” see no issue, inasmuch as criminals in the late 18^th century were often hung or received corporal punishment. (Aside: you might observe that this writer does not agree with the concept of “original intent,” but that’s for another d’var.) Those with a broader interpretation of our Constitution discuss the continuing validity of capital punishment; another argument concerns the question of whether prolonged solitary confinement should be barred.

            From a Jewish perspective, we should recall that the cited punishment was seen as a kind of retribution, but, at the same time, the offender was always encouraged to repent (“do t’shuvah). Jewish tradition reminds us also that a court that sentences someone to the death penalty more than once in 70 years is considered a “murderous court.”

            In our examination of criminal justice issues today, the ability of offenders to repent and “do t’shuvah” should certainly be part of the calculus in which we engage when we consider how our criminal justice system operates.

Teaching About Zionism and Justice

Shoftim

Deut. 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.

            This week’s Torah reading includes two remarkable and noteworthy concepts. In the 3rd verse we read this morning, we see a clarion call: Tzedek, Tzedek Tirdof: Justice, Justice you shall pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving to you.  And in Chapter 20, we read that in occupying the land, its inhabitants are to first be offered the opportunity to surrender, and if so, all of the inhabitants are to serve as forced labor. If they defy the Israelites, all the men are to be slain, and women and children made captives.

            How we can seek justice on the one hand, and on the other hand enslave or murder the inhabitants of the land? The idea of killing every male and enslaving the women and children during an occupation is abhorrent. How can this be just? 

            I am fortunate to teach middle and high school students at our community midrasha, Shoresh. It has always been a challenge to teach high school students about the distinctions among early Zionist thinkers, in large part because today’s students find the writings of 19th or early 20th century philosophers difficult to decipher. It was difficult 10 years ago, and has become increasingly difficult.  

            I believe I know why: they have lived their entire lives with images of Israel as the occupier and as the military juggernaut of the Middle East. These images are used, as we know, by the Palestinian propaganda machine, which seems to succeed in part because it allows no uncensored new coverage in its areas of control, while all of Israel appears open to TV and Internet reports. And Israel has failed to respond adequately. The BDS Movement has understood that a target audience of American Jewish Youth is fertile ground for enhancing its profiles at colleges across the country. So, at Shoresh we discuss why it is that other nations are not targeted like Israel, nations which commit atrocities which make Israeli actions pale by comparison. We ask where are the BDS movements against Syria? Against North Korea? Against China?

            How else do we encourage love of Israel? We continue to read important excerpts from the founders of the different streams of Zionism. Some students see resonance with their own feelings in Herzl’s belief in the need for sanctuary, or in Ben Gurion’s socialism, or Jabotinsky’ nationalism, or in Rav Kook’s religious imperative. In our study of history, we stress the essential fact that the Arab world has never agreed to the existence of a Jewish State in their midst. Only when Israel defeated its foes in combat were they grudgingly accepted by some of their neighbors.

            We analyze statements made by the PLA, Hezbollah, and Hamas about Israel, and deconstruct the falsehoods so often contained within them. Finally, I emphasize that there is a difference between love of Israel and support of its current government or its policies. They get this, because they love America but most, if not all, detest its president. 

            I remain hopeful. I still believe in the mitzvah of tzedek, tzedek tirdof, and will continue to seek justice, for Israelis as well as for Palestinians, and strive to instill this spirit in my students. 

Look in the mirror

Re’eh

Deut. 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 and 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: a prohibition against self-mutilation, the biblical basis of the laws of kashrut, tithing so that the needs are met for the Levites, the "stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.” 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. 11:26–28 “Behold I set before you a blessing and a curse this day; a blessing if you obey the commandment…and a curse, if you will not obey the commandments…”

Shlomo Ressler has noted (Weekly D’var, 8/10/15) that this week's parasha starts off with the word “Re’eh,” which means “See.” What are we seeing, and why do we need to see it? He cites Rabbi Yehoshua Wender who explains that in our lives we are all on a quest for truth. This search for truth is especially important these days. But in our search, we need to see things in their proper lights. In everything in this world there is truth, and there could be falseness, and it is our job to not be tricked by the lies.  So how do we know what's true and what's not?  
            Ressler suggests that Torah contains the ultimate truth and protection from falseness. (I might add that in this case “Torah” is more than the Five Books, but the sum total of all Jewish learning.) Living in today’s world is like being in a room of fun house mirrors. You walk in, and there are all these curvy mirrors that distort your image.  Some make you look fat, others make you tall, and others make you skinny.  The only way to get a true image of yourself is to look in a flat, uncurved mirror. Torah is such a mirror: one can look in Torah and find the truth, untainted, uncurved, and undistorted.

            I suggest that these days, it is ever more important to use the mirror of our tradition to find truth.

The Promise of fertility

Ekev

Deut. 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. He 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 follow the rebelliousness of their fathers, including the incident of the Golden Calf, punishment will occur.

Deut. 7:12-14 “And if you do obey these rules and observe them carefully, the Lord your God will maintain faithfully for you the covenant that He made on oath with your fathers: He will favor you and bless you and multiply you; He will bless the issue of your womb...You shall be blessed above all other peoples: there shall be no sterile male or female among you or among your livestock...”

            As noted by Rabbi Lauren Eichler Berkun (MyJewishLearning.com 7/27/10) the themes of fertility and barrenness are at the center of much of our biblical narrative. Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, and the Shunamite woman are examples of this theme. Here, the covenant between God and Israel is presented as one based on fertility, and within this parasha, the blessings of Birkat Hamazon and the Sh’ma both include references to fertility as well. The Exodus itself is a story of God’s leading the people from “barren” wilderness to a “fertile” new land.

            But the People, in their new land, would prosper only if they adhered to the commandments; even the rain depended upon their faithfulness. God is portrayed as fundamental to life and its survival, particularly with regard to fertility of both the land and its people. From this perspective, the biblical narrative’s emphasis on barrenness is a natural complement to the text here. We create human beings out of our own bodies, but it is God who opens the womb.

            The text is a powerful reminder that while we are God’s partner’s in the creation of life, it is God who brings life, and sustains it. 

Reconcile the stories

D’varim

Deut. 1:1 - 3:22

Précis: The Book of Deuteronomy (D’varim – “words”) takes the form of a series of lectures by Moses to the People as they prepare to enter the Land. Together, these instructions constitute Moses’ farewell address.  D’varim is sometimes called the “Mishneh Torah”, literally, the “second teaching of the Torah” (this is where we get the Greek name of the Book) because it contains repetitions of previously enunciated laws. The Book has a strong focus on the centrality of the Temple in the Promised Land, as well as many of other rituals found at the center of Jewish life. The Book is also sometimes referred to as the “Priestly Code” by those who ascribe its origin to the Priests of the First Temple era.

           

Deut. 1:22-26 “Then all of you came to me and said, ‘Let us send men to reconnoiter the land for us and bring back word on the route we shall follow and the cities we shall come to. It looked good in my eyes, and so I selected twelve men, one from each tribe… and they gave us this report: ‘It is a good land that the Lord our God is giving to us.’ Yet you refused to go up and…you sulked in your tents.”

Matt Plen, writing in Torah Sparks (8/12/16) notes that Moses’ account of the story of the spies differs from the version we read in B’midbar (chapter 13).  There God commanded Moses to send princes from each of the tribes, and here, Moses states that the idea came from the people. In B’midbar most of the spies return with a negative view of the Land, and actively spread pessimism among the Israelites.  In this telling, Moses states that the spies brought a short, positive report about the land, but the people sulked in their tents.  

            How to reconcile these two different versions? Nahama Leibowitz’s argues that rather than seeing these stories as contradictory, we should think of them in terms of chronology.  Moses' speech in D’varim comes 38 years after the sin of the spies, when the people of Israel are ready to take possession of the land. The first time, the people failed. Moses wants to make sure that they succeed this time. So he doesn't stress the sin of the various tribal leaders, but rather the personal responsibility of every member of the community. “The listener,” says Leibowitz, “has the choice of turning a deaf ear to evil words or of allowing himself to be misled by them.  It is his duty to resist.” 

Asylum Cities - and Sactuary Cities

Matot- Masei

Num. 30:2 - 36:13

Précis: Matot begins with a speech to the heads (matot) of the tribes concerning the importance and sacredness of vows. The parasha then returns to the war with the Midianites, including the purification of the warriors and division of the booty. The tribes of Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh express their desire to dwell east of the Jordon, and are permitted to do so, after promising to enter the Land to help the rest of the People defeat the Canaanites.

            The Book of Numbers ends with Masei. “These are the stages (masei) of the journey” which the Israelites made through the desert. In what amounts to a recapitulation, all of the stops along the way are identified. The Israelites are reminded to drive the Canaanites from the Land. Most of the parasha outlines the Israelites' entry to the Promised Land and sets out the first steps to be taken as they establish their national home, including the distribution of land among the tribes. The Levitical cities are described, as well as the cities of refuge. Just prior to their invasion of the land, the laws differentiating between murder and killing are repeated. The parasha ends with a summary of the commandments and ordinances. 

 Num. 35:9-10 “The Lord spoke further to Moses: ‘Speak to the Israelite people and say to them, ‘When you cross the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you shall provide yourselves with places to serve as cities of refuge to which a manslayer who has killed a person unintentionally may flee. The cities shall serve you as a refuge from the avenger so that the manslayer may be brought before a tribunal…”

            The concept of cities of refuge (“arei miklat”) was developed for a society in which revenge was the usual reaction to a murder, whether intentional or unintentional. Even today, there remain cultures in which physical revenge is used in reaction to a range of “insults” (from “improper” relations with a female relative to the killing of a relative). While the concept of a city of refuge was probably not a creation of the Israelites (there were similar concepts known in neighboring cultures of that era), it was a mark of a society in while the rule of law was to be supported.       

            The Hebrew word we translate here as “avenger” (go'el) literally means “redeemer,” as in one who redeems the honor of his clan. This shows just how important this concept of honor was in this society.

            The Torah rejects revenge and instead demands a system of tribunals to protect the accused from the vengeance of others. If found innocent of intentional killing, the accused would be permitted to live in the city, isolated from the community where he had committed the non-willful slaying.  For a civilization which had yet to invent prisons, this was an important development.

            Today, we have an on-going debate about the modern form of cities of refuge, more commonly referred to as “sanctuary cities.” The cause is certainly different (an escaped accused murderer on the one hand and a seeker of asylum on the other) but a common concept remains: the need for a system of law which recognize the need for justice. How we go about finding justice in the modern context is certainly an important is to consider. I personally am guided in this issue by our tradition which requires us to care for the orphan, the widow, and the stranger among us.

Facts and Perception

Sh’lach

Num. 13:1-15:41

Précis: Moses is ordered to “send out” (sh’lach l’cha) spies to examine the land. Representatives of each tribe go out, report on its bounty, but also report about its fearsome inhabitants. The People are frightened, and their “murmuring” turns into something close to panic. God tells Moses that He will destroy the People, but Moses intercedes; the People are sentenced to spend 40 years in the wilderness. The parasha then returns to matters concerning the Tabernacle, with a discussion of the offering for unintentional sins. Near its end, the parasha discusses the wearing of tzitzit, a paragraph which is part of the traditional recitation of the Sh’ma. This is the 27th of 54 parshiot, marking the half-way point in the yearly reading.

Num. 13:1-2 “And Adonai spoke to Moses, saying, ‘Send men and let them scout out the land of Canaan that I am giving to the children of Israel; send one man from each tribe, each a prince of his tribe.’”

This week’s reading tells us a lot about how our perceptions are influenced by our preconceptions.

            Moses send out 12 men, one from each tribe, to investigate the Land that they are about to enter. Ten come back with one story; the other two come back with a different account entirely. The all saw the same thing, yet some described fierce inhabitants and great dangers, including fearsome inhabitants who consider the Israelites as “grasshoppers.” The other two (Joshua and Caleb) report on the richness of the land and their assurance that they, with God’s help, they will surely succeed in their efforts.

            This is not a case of truth verses lies; it is a matter of perception. Each group reports the “truth” as they perceive it.

            It’s been said that one may argue about opinions, but we can’t argue about facts. At one time, this was the case in America. No longer. This is exactly what’s at play with American news outlets, be they newspapers of record or cable outlets or on-line sources of “facts.”  We have a President who has introduced the concept of “fake news” despite their truth.

            But even if the facts are facts, we, like the spies of our story, see them through our own preconceptions, through our “world view” if you will. How we understand the world depends not only on the facts, but upon our perception of those facts. Is it any wonder that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to communicate effectively with each other?  

Free Fish?

B’haalot’cha

Num. 8:1 - 12:16

Précis: The parasha begins with a description of the making of the seven-branched menorah, a central Jewish symbol. Next, the Levites are given specific directions for their duties. The parasha returns to narrative with a recounting of a second Passover celebration (required because some of the Israelites had been ritually impure when the first anniversary of Passover was celebrated). Following is a discussion of the making of silver trumpets. The cloud of God’s Presence lifts, and the march of the People through the wilderness of Sinai begins, led by the Ark of the Covenant. The people begin to murmur, this time about a lack of meat. God provides, but the People are struck with a plague. This time, even Miriam and Aaron seem to have complaints about Moses, cast in terms of their critique about his “Cushite woman.” Moses is stressed by the demands of leadership.

Num. 11:4-5 “The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic.”

Rabbi Daniel Goldfarb reminds us of a wonderful story which seems perfectly suited to these verses (Torah Sparks, 6/7/17)

            The story is told of a young monk who joins a silent monastery. The rules are simple, the abbot tells him. "You can speak two words every ten years." After ten years the young monk says "Bed hard." Ten years later, "Food bad." After 30 years he tells the abbot, "I quit." The senior monk looks at him and says, "I'm not surprised. You've been complaining ever since you got here."   Goldfarb concludes that the monk could not be Jewish: his first complaint was not about food!

            Complaining about the food, early and often, is a very old Jewish custom, and is certainly illustrated here. Even more incredible is the way in which their true history of hard labor, terrible taskmasters, and the rest, has been forgotten. They even “remember” being given “free fish.” While some commentators suggest that this was because fish were plentiful in the river, Rashi rejects this idea. “Free” (hinam) means to Rashi “free of the commandments.” In other words, having been given burdensome commandments at Sinai, the People looked back upon their time in Egypt as somehow easier.

            As we learn in Pirkei Avot (3:21), if there is no flour (material sustenance) there is no Torah, and vice versa.  Our tradition suggests we need both sustenance and Torah. We are not ascetic or pleasure-obsessed. As Goldfarb concludes, we need to strike the same balance today that the Jews faced at Sinai.