Coming Near

 Vayigash

Gen. 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. 44:18–34 “Then Judah came near to him, and said, ‘Oh my Lord, let your servant, I pray of you, speak a word in my Lord’s ears, and let not your anger burn against your servant, for you are the equal of Pharaoh…. Now, therefore, let your servant, I pray of you, stay here with you instead of the lad as your slave, and let him go back with his brethren. For how shall I go up to my father if the lad is not with me?’”

            Judah has shown true t’shuvah: by offering himself as the substitute for Benjamin, he refuses to commit again to the abandonment of a brother (Joseph).

What has been the cause of his transformation? Perhaps we can discern it in the words of this verse: “and Judah came near to him.” Judah, who had taken no action to save Joseph from slavery, now “steps forward” to initiate a reconciliation.

In America today, we are in dire need of a reconciliation: of a recognition that we have more in common than what divides us. We can pray that we have the sense of t’shuvah shown by Judah, and “come near” those with whom we have quarreled and disagreed with politically, socially, economically, and personally. “Coming near” is the first step for true reconciliation.

-- 

Dreams and Solutions

 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. He accuses the brothers of spying, and sends them home after they leave one brother hostage and promise to return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. Upon their return, the brothers (including Benjamin) meet the still-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 would return to their homeland. On this cliffhanger, the parasha ends.

 

Gen. 41:15-16 “And Pharaoh said to Joseph, ‘I have had a dream, but no one can interpret it. Now I have heard it said of you that for you to hear a dream is to tell its meaning.’ Joseph answered Pharaoh, saying, ‘Not I! God will see to Pharaoh's welfare.’”

 

            Rabbi Andy Shapiro Katz has suggested that our tradition has a skeptical opinion of dream interpretation (Torah Sparks 12/8/18). Many commentators wonder why Pharaoh could not find among his advisors anyone who could make sense of his dreams.  Rashi summarizes Midrash Rabbah in this verse, which suggests that Pharaoh’s advisors focused on Pharaoh’s own personal future, and thus he turned to Joseph because he believed that the dreams were about his nation.

            Katz then cites Shmuel David Luzzatto (Italy 1800-1865) that Pharaoh’s advisors did understand the nature of the dreams, but all failed to offer any suggestions for how to deal with the outcome. Pharaoh wanted more than an interpretation: he wanted a solution. This is reinforced by the fact that the word used for “interpretation (“pitron”) in contemporary Hebrew is “solution.”

            If we read the story this way, when we are faced with a difficult vision of the future, our goal is not only to understand it, but to make plans for overcoming that evil vision. As Katz suggests, “the goal is not only to understand it, but also to come to grips with it without being paralyzed. This requires making a compromise between idealism and pessimism, between the future we hoped for and the dark truth in front of us.”

            The United States today faces a bleak future of pandemic, hopefully to be tempered by a vaccine in the coming year. But we also face serious economic and political divisions, a loss of confidence in our institutions, racial strife and inequality, and rising anti-Semitism. We can hide our heads in the sand, or we can work and plan on ways and means to overcome the darkness ahead. Joseph tells us in this verse that interpretation (which can also mean solution) comes from God. We only have to listen to that still, small voice to eventually prevail.

Silence in the face of evil

 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. 37:32-33 “…. We found this. Is this your son’s tunic or not? He recognized it, and said, ‘My son’s tunic! A savage beast devoured him! Joseph was torn by a beast!’”

           

            Joseph’s brothers present “evidence” of his death, which Jacob accepts. They never tell their father the truth. Rachel Farbiarz reminds us (MyJewishLearning.com, 12/9/14) that midrash says that there actually was one person who was aware of their conspiracy of silence: their grandfather, Isaac. Isaac had been the object of trickery in the matter of the blessings between Jacob and Esau, and he could spot the deception (even though he was aged and blind).

            What is the purpose of this midrash? Farbiarz suggests that Isaac remained silent because of the trauma of the Akedah. He would not break his silence, and he assumed it to be the “will of God” because he felt that the violence done to him by his father was also God’s will. The midrash may teach us that those who suffer at the hands of others are loath to air their grievances, and fail to support others who suffer.

            On the other hand, the midrash can be looked at in an entirely different way. Isaac’s silence caused real harm to his son Jacob, who grieved for decades over the assumed death of his beloved son. Silence in the face of knowledge of wrong-doing is wrong. It is not "accepting God’s will," nor the will of a political leader. It is cowardice. 

We, not I

 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. 32:27 – “Send me away (shalheni) because the dawn is breaking.”

 

Rabbi David Hoffman, writing in JTS Parashah Commentary (12/4/14) , cites Rabbi Sholom Noach Berezovsky (z'l), the Slonimer Rebbe, who suggested that this week’s reading emphasized this idea of a unique personal mission, represented by Jacob. Jacob wrestles and his assailant cries out in the words of this week’s verse above.

            Why does the adversary demand to be sent away now that dawn is breaking? The Rabbis suggest a dialogue between Jacob and his foe. Jacob demands to know, “Why must you run away at daybreak? Are you a thief or are you a kidnapper who fears the dawn?”

            At this moment, the adversary confesses his angelic nature, and Jacob demands a blessing.  The Slonimer Rebbe builds on this Talmudic midrash. This angel, like other celestial beings, was created by the Divine and tasked with a particular mission; the angel becomes worthy of singing to God only after the mission is accomplished.  This angel’s task was to test Jacob, and to try to keep him from meeting Esau to make peace with his brother and fully commit to his (Jacob’s) allegiance to God. As daybreak approached, the angel realized he had completed his mission and could now come before God and sing a song of praise to Him.

            But the Slonimer Rebbe next makes an audacious claim: what is true for angels is true for human beings. Each of us – every human being – has a role to play in the world as an agent of God. We each have an individual mission which each of us alone can accomplish. Each of us is therefore unique and irreplaceable.

            I add that our individual mission may be difficult to understand, just as Jacob’s wrestling was difficult. But one way in which we may uncover our individual mission is to grasp that it is part of a greater whole. As Rabbi Sacks (z’l) notes in his final work, Morality: Restoring the Common Good in Divided Times:

            “Societal freedom cannot be sustained by market economics and liberal

            democratic politics alone. It needs a third element: morality, a concern for

            the welfare of others, an active commitment to justice and compassion,

            a willingness to ask not just what is good for me but what is good for ‘all of

            Us together.’ It is about ‘Us,’ not ‘Me;’ about ‘We,’ not ‘I.’”

Climb the Ladder

 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. 28:10 “And Jacob left.” 

 

Bill Shackman remarks in Torah Sparks (11/17/18) that this reading begins with Jacob fleeing family violence, having a brother who wants to kill him and a father who cannot protect him. He will need to rely on the kindness of strangers. Sleeping with a rock pillow, he dreams of a ladder, and upon awakening, realizes that we are all moving along the rungs of the ladder. Behind is fear and division. Up ahead are hope, empathy, and understanding.

            Here, states Shackman, the Torah imprints on our national psyche the trauma of being a refugee. Since being banished from the Garden of Eden, our ancestors were continually strangers. Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, and then the entire people in Egypt. This was followed by the Exodus through a desert, and thousands of years of moving from place to place, sometimes welcome, often not. This underlies the Torah’s repeated support for the weak among us: for the stranger, the widow, and the orphan.

            Jacob himself is exploited by his uncle. But his redemption after more than 20 years of servitude shows that hope is always the next rung up the ladder, and despite our history as a persecuted people, we can dream of our own redemption as a people and as individuals as well.  

A Blind Eye

Toldot

Gen. 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 the narrative. We learn that Jacob is a quiet man while Esau is a cunning hunter, that their mother Rebecca prefers Jacob, and that Isaac prefers Esau. Esau sells his birthright 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 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, and he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Gen. 27:1 “And it came to pass when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, and he could not see, he called Esau, his older son, and said to him ‘My son’ and he said to him ‘Here I am.’”

 

As is noted by Rabbi Michael Dolgin (10 Minutes of Torah, 11/16/22), we can easily construe the text to indicate that Isaac knew who was getting the blessing, asking Jacob on more than one occasion who he really was. Dolgin suggests that his physical blindness led to another “blindness” of his surroundings and of truth. He was accepting of deceit.

            This demonstrates, once again, the timelessness of Torah, and the fact that its ancient stories are still relevant to our own societies. When we turn a “blind eye” towards injustice, our society falters. When we dismiss anti-Semites as unthreatening to us, we endanger ourselves as a Jewish community (the FBI this week reported a 14% increase in religious-based hate crimes, almost all of which were directed at Jews). When we ignore hatred, we contribute to its success.

            As Rabbi Dolgin concludes, "Willful blindness is not a curiosity. It presents a profound danger to all we hold dear."

 

Continuity

 Chaye Sarah

Gen. 23:1-25:18

 

Précis: The parasha begins with the counting the days of the life of Sarah (Chaye 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. 24:1-10 “Abraham said to his servant, the elder of his house, that ruled over all he had...that 'You shall not take a wife for my son from among the daughters of Canaan, where I dwell, but you shall go to my country, and my kindred, and take a wife for my son Isaac.’ ... And his servant swore to him concerning the matter."

 

These are Abraham’s final words recorded in our text. The statement is about continuity after his death, highlighted by marriage for his son, necessary for the continuation of the covenantal relationship between God and the descendants of Abraham.

            

Americans this week are experiencing the fact that the current President of the United States seems more intent on his personal future than upon the continuity of our national character and democratic ideals. He argues, entirely without any evidence, that he somehow was deprived of a fair election, and that President-elect Biden, the Democrats and the media (including Fox News!) “stole” or “rigged” the election. He has forbidden the Director of the General Service Agency from providing the Biden team with transition assistance (access to files, access to employees, and office space) which has been the law since 1963. He is reportedly considering ways to void state ballot counts and have GOP legislatures appoint Trump delegates to the Electoral College. If you think this is impossible, look up the Hayes/Tilden election.

            A Presidential transition is at the best of times difficult, tedious, and vitally important. With record numbers of unemployed Americans, with a raging pandemic claiming ever-increasing numbers of lives here and abroad, and with potential challenges around the world, a failure to assist in continuity of our government is astounding (although in truth not unexpected).

            This week, when we recite a prayer for our country on Shabbat morning, I will be praying that the next weeks result in an acceptance that transition to new leadership in the White House is a “fact” which will be recognized and acted upon properly by those currently in leadership positions of our beloved nation.

Here I am

 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 1-12 “Sometime later God tested Abraham. He said to him, ‘Abraham!’ ‘Here I am,’ he replied. Then God said, ‘Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you’…. Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, ‘Father?’ ‘Yes, my son?’ Abraham replied. ‘The fire and wood are here,’ Isaac said, ‘but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?’ Abraham answered, ‘God will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.’ And the two of them went on together… Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. But the angel of the Lord called out to him from heaven, ‘Abraham! Abraham!’ ‘Here I am,’ he replied. ‘Do not lay a hand on the boy,’ he said. ‘Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from Me your son, your only son.’”

 

            There is probably no story in our foundational saga better known – or more debated – than the tale told in these verses. Why is Abraham “tested?” Why does he not resist as he did with Sodom? Where is Sarah? Why is Isaac so compliant? Is Abraham a hero or a villain?

            Erica Brown has written on some of these issues (Weekly Jewish Wisdom,12/24/15) She recalls a “joke:” Why is it when I talk to God it's called prayer, but when God talks to me, it's called schizophrenia? Our text in Genesis has God speaking to many individuals, and the response is often “hineni” - here I am.  She explains that the meaning of the word should be interpreted to mean that I am fully present in this moment in time and poised to take on my assignment.

            Hineni shows a readiness to accept a mission or task which usually entails danger.  It’s used not only between God and an individual, but sometimes in response to an angel or a parent. She notes that in the Book of Esther, the response is from one person to another.

            The text is usually seen as a “call” rather than a request. But the Torah invites us to ask: if you want to get someone to do something, you have to ask. Hineni is a call to action, and within it contains the power of invitation. When we are in a “hineni moment,” we need to understand the importance of the invitation and act upon it.

            What must we do? I submit that when faced with challenges we need to say, “Here I am. Send me.”

The first survivor

 Noach

Gen. 6:9-11:32

 

Précis: The story of Noah (Hebrew: Noach) and the Flood appear in this parsha. 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 parsha, and it ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, concluding with Abram.

 

Gen. 6:14 “Make thee an ark of gopher wood.”

            Of course, we look at the story of Noach and the Ark and say, “it’s a myth.” After all, other non-Israelite corollaries are legion, but as Rabbi Ephraim Z. Buckwald notes (My Jewishlearning.com, 11/1/16) a close reading of these other accounts reveal important differences.

            The most well-known alternative story (which some critics say form the basis of the Noach story) is the Epic of Gilgamesh, where the world is flooded out of caprice, but the gods save Utnapashim because he is their favorite.

            In Noach, we see a moral imperative instead of arbitrary favoritism. Our God decides to destroy the world because of its corruption, and Noach is saved not because he is a favorite, but because he is righteous. When the waters recede, Noach is reluctant to leave the Ark. Why? Buckwald cites Elie Wiesel, who calls Noach the “first survivor.” The entire world had been turned into a graveyard, and Noach couldn’t face it. When he does emerge and offers sacrifices to God, Noach’s first step is to plant, an act of hope. But Noach plants a vineyard, and cannot face the world without his drug of choice: alcohol.

            Some Holocaust survivors adopted different strategies to deal with their experiences: some maintained silence, some denied God, some became alcoholic, and some were merely unable to continue living as the lone survivors of their families.

            The story of the Flood is not a myth: it is a narrative we have repeated time and again. Its real focus is about the nature of survival when faced with overpowering loss. Noach, at bottom, was a failure whose familial relations could not withstand his own reaction to the horror he witnessed. But our Torah holds out hope, with the end of the parsha reciting the connection to Abram.

        

One Day

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 1:5 “And God called the Light "Day" and the Dark "Night." And there was evening and morning, a first day.”

            Rabbi David E. Levy, writing in ReformJudaism.org (10/23/16) made note of two different sources of insight which I personally find interesting. One is a podcast called “99% Invisible” which has a premise of “uncovering ... all the thought that goes into the things we don't think about — the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world.” The second was a work by Thomas Cahill, “The Gift of the Jews” (Anchor Books, 1998).

            Levy notes that our usual translation for “a first day” is incorrect. The Hebrew says “yom echad,” literally “one day.” All of the other days are listed as “the second day, the third day, etc.”

            Why this discrepancy between a cardinal number and ordinal numbers for the following days? He cites Rambam’s explanation: “... it is not possible to say, 'the first day,' since the second one has not yet been made; as ‘the first’ is before the second in counting ... [only] when they both exist ...” Rambam is suggesting an additional “invisible” creation: the concept of linear time. This is precisely the kind of analysis one can frequently find on the podcast I noted at the outset: something which is apparent only when one thinks closely about the specifics.

            Thomas Cahill notes in his book that the concept of linear time was something new to humanity, introduced by Jewish thought. All other peoples thought nothing ever changed (it’s always been that way”), or that time was somehow circular. As Cahill says, “Since time is no longer cyclical but one-way and irreversible, personal history is now possible and an individual life can have value.”

            What does this small difference really mean to us? By recognizing that time is linear, we are reminded first that this is a New Year, and that we and our world can change. Progress is possible. A new future is possible, and we need not repeat the errors and mistakes of our past. 

Assembly

     This coming Shabbat, we observe the festival of Shmini Atzeret, probably the least known or observed holiday on our calendar. It lacks the intensity of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It lacks the joy of Sukkot, and the singing and dancing of Simchat Torah. Chanukah gets more play at home, and Purim is perhaps the most fun-filled day of the year. Pesach is a time for serious storytelling and eating. Shavuot gets a bit more notice because of its link to Sinai. 

    If you ask 100 Jews what Shmini Atzeret is about, I’m guessing that perhaps 1 in 100 will actually know. A couple will probably say that it somehow is tied to the end of Sukkot. Some may know that many Jews (those in Israel and many Reform Jews) celebrate Shmini Atzeret on the same day as Simchat Torah. Some may know that the day before (this year, Friday) is the last day of Sukkot, called Hoshanah Rabbah, which is not really a holiday at all, but is a day for special prayers, and the last day we are obligated to sit in the sukkah. 

    One meaning of “Atzeret” is “assembly,” from the Hebrew root meaning to gather together. Rashi tells us that the holiday demonstrates God’s reluctance for us to depart from His Presence which began on Rosh Hashanah. 

    This year, I focus on the meaning of assembly. We were, for the most part, unable to “assemble” together in any traditional sense. Some scattered few were able to attend socially distanced services, and others watched synagogue services through streaming.

            I wanted to make a special mention of my friends of many decades, Neal Meiselman and his wife Terry, who have organized what we call the “Accidental Chavurah” using Zoom, at first every Shabbat, and once our congregation began streaming, occasionally for services. But on all occasions, we enjoyed a “JFK” (just for kiddush), when we have virtual conversations with friends and acquaintances, sometimes theme-based and other times just keeping tabs on each other. Neal and Terry always ask us not to thank them, but Todah Rabbah to both of them. 

    On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we divided our on-line experience between the congregation’s stream and our own Zoom, with participants of our “chavurah” taking major and minor roles in our virtual service. Neal’s recitation of Unitanef Tokef was incredibly stirring, given that we wonder more now than at other times “who will live and who will die.” It was wonderful to hear the youngest leading Ein Kelohenu or Ashrei. Reciting Yizkor and saying kaddish together in our “Accidental Chavurah” was memorable and meaningful.

            As we come to the conclusion of this run of holidays, I give thanks that we have had the ability to form and maintain our “assembly” together, and hope that we can assemble together soon, person to person, praying together as we have always done. Bimhera biyamenu (May it be immediately in our days).

Hag Shavuot Sameach

 

Writing in MyJewishLearning.com (10/16/16), Rabbi David Golinkin lays out a variety of reasons for why we are commanded to live in the sukkah. He notes the agricultural reason cited in the Torah: “After the ingathering from your threshing floor and your vat, you shall hold the Feast of Booths for seven days…You shall hold a festival…in the place that the Lord will choose, for the Lord your God will bless all your crops and all your undertakings, and you shall have nothing but joy” (Deut. 16:13,15).

            A historical reason is also found in the Torah: You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths. In order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt… (Lev.(23:42-43).

            Tradition adds additional reasons: Philo, the first century Egyptian-Jewish philosopher,  suggests that “it should remind us of the long wanderings of our forefathers in the depths of the desert... and to remember your poverty….”

            There is more to this line of thought. Most of us have the ability and the means (the privilege) to live in far better conditions than our ancestors. Thus, the sukkah becomes an ironic statement of gratitude. Philo says that it’s a pleasure for a prosperous person to remember the “bad old days.” He adds one additional factor: sitting in the sukkah leads us to thank God for all the kindness He has bestowed upon us.

            At a time of plague, physical separation from our community, racial strife, the rise again of anti-Semitism and political division, it may be difficult to remain grateful for what we have received. I believe that the act of putting up the sukkah in my backyard is one of hope that with God’s kindness, we can overcome the difficulties we face.

Why Jonah?

Maya Bernstein has written about the four traditional reasons why we read the Book of Jonah on Yom Kippur at the afternoon  mincha service (MyJewishLearning.com, 9/25/17).

            The first is that the story of Jonah’s travel and disobedience  reminds us of God’s infinite mercy. If God could forgive Jonah, of course God can forgive us.

            The second Rabbinic response is related to Yom Kippur’s most profound theme of teshuva. Again, the people of Nineveh offer a paradigm of repentance, a model for us as we struggle through the day.

            Third, the Book of Jonah reminds us that the entire world is in God’s hand. The wind, the kikayon plant, the sea, and the great fish are all used by God in this story.

            Finally, according to the Mishnah in Brachot 6a, mincha time is believed to be especially poignant for having our prayers answered.  As we read of Jonah being answered from the belly of the fish, we are reminded that we too can be saved, even as the day begins to wane.

            Bernstein points out that there is something more to this book and Yom Kippur.  Much like life, it is a book of contradictions and ends in an unanswered question.

            The Sages themselves question who Jonah really was, and when the book was written. Was he swallowed by a big fish, or is that a metaphor of imagination?  There is constant tension in this brief book: between sleep and wakefulness, up and down, an acceptance of God and an evasion of Him, an acceptance of mission and an evasion of mission, good and bad, compassion and hate, a desire for mercy, and a desire for truth.

            We read this book as we stand before God in the hours just before Yom Kippur concludes. We are hungry, we are thirsty, and we are tired of facing down our fears. At this time during the Yom Kippur experience, we are all Jonah. We long to be undisturbed, to be left alone. But we know that the Gates are closing and that we cannot give in to the desire to cease our self-examination and prayer.

            Jonah’s riddles remain unsolved. And so, we, Jonah-like, enter the service as he entered the fish, and insecurely call out to our Creator for salvation. Perhaps our call will be heard.

            May all of us be sealed in the Book of life, health, prosperity, and hope. 

Hope

 Ha’azinu

Deut. 32:1-52

 

Précis: The parsha, 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 enter, as he prepares for his death. This is the last parsha read on Shabbat in the annual cycle: the final parsha (V’zot Habracha) is read traditionally on Simchat Torah.

 

Deut. 32:49-50. “Ascend these heights of Abiram to Mount Nebo… and view the land of Canaan…. You shall die on that mountain.”

          Moses’ place in Jewish history is unique. Born to slaves, he was raised in ultimate privilege. He gave up that privilege to free a people from slavery.  His most important title was “Rabbenu" (“our Rabbi).”  Never a king, he is defined by his humanity. He feels despair, he displays anger, he loses faith, and is denied his life-long goal of entry into the Land of Israel. We do not worship him, but hold him up as a role model who is flawed, human, but endowed with moral quality.  

            On the evening before his assassination, Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. recalled Moses’ own struggle. He said, God “allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.”

          Moses and King shared a vision and a hope: that despite the struggles confronting us, we can and will reach “the Promised Land” of a better future for all.

          I’ve decided that my “mantra” for the coming year will be “hope.” It is my “hope” that you can all share the belief that the future can, must, and will be better for us, for Israel, and for all of those created in God’s image. 

Shanah Tovah

Erica Brown has written about the key issues we face this Rosh Hashanah. (Weekly Jewish Wisdom, 9/28/11). The question she asks: Who’s in Control?     

During the “Unitanef Tokef” passage in the Musaf service, we humble ourselves: the coming year will bring births and deaths, poverty and wealth, restlessness and peace. We cannot know our fate, which is “to be written” in the “the Book of Life,” a talmudic metaphor attributed to Rabbi Yohanan [BT Rosh Hashanah 16b]. We all have a chance through repentance, prayer and charity to affect our outcome.

Brown suggests that the haftarah on Rosh Hashanah, describing Hannah’s struggles with infertility, and then her offering of a prayer to God for a son is similar to Unitanef Tokef: God deals in death and gives life.  

            

This year, we face a future filled with potential perils. Just as the words state in Unitanef Tokef, people are indeed dying by fire, people are dying by flood, people are dying by earthquake both in our nation and around the world. We face the other perils of an unprecedented pandemic and political divisiveness we have not witnessed in anyone’s living memory. Will God guide us to vote for leaders who will help heal the wounds we face in our society? Will He provide the intuition and courage our scientific community needs to mitigate the disease which ravages us? Can we do our own repentance, prayer and charity to help those who are afflicted by joblessness, isolation, hunger, and despair? Can He remind us of the Torah’s demands to see to the needs of the widow, the orphan, and the stranger among us? Can He imbue us with the will to maintain the communal institutions which have kept the Jewish People flourishing during our lifetimes, both here and in Israel?

          

In a Washington Post column this week, opinion writer E.J. Dionne, Jr. wrote, "What in the world happened to hope?" He reminds us: "Hope is not a feeling. It's a virtue." He was writing about politics, but it applies to all parts of our lives.

            

That is how I will try to focus my thoughts and prayers this year, albeit through social isolation and electronic media.

            

May the coming year be a better year: a year of health, of restored prosperity, a year of peace at home and abroad, and a year of renewed hope.

 

A Time for Unity

 Nitzavim-Vayeilech

Deut. 29:9 -31:31

 

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

            In Vayeilech, 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. 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 week we read Nitzavim-Vayeilech one week before Rosh Hashanah. We have traditionally gathered together around the world in our congregations, reminding us of the essential unity of the Jewish People. But, sadly, that is not to be the case this year because of the Covid Pandemic. How can we find a feeling of unity through our screens, or davening in pods?

            There is a famous statement from Kohelet (Ecclesiastes): “There is nothing new under the sun” (1:9). At first, today certainly seems to be something "new." But I suggest that while the current situation may indeed be new it is not unprecedented. The Jewish People have experienced life during plagues before, as well as pogroms and oppression. Yet, somehow, we survive. Challenges to our sense of unity have existed as long as we have been a people.

            The reading here reminds us: we all, from the greatest to the least, are part of a unique Covenant with God. Even as we gather in socially distant ways or via electronic media, we can rejoice in our unity through our Covenant. 

Above the law

 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 parsha is devoted to ways to create a just society in the Land of Israel.

 

Deut. 17:18 “When he (the king) is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Teaching written on a scroll by the Levitical priests. Let it remain with him and let him read it all his life…”

            Written thousands of years ago, our Torah remains a vital source for how modern societies are to act. Here, we see that the Jewish king is to have a scroll of the law beside him. Clearly, the intent is that the King is bound by that law. The king is to study -and be held to - the same law as that which applies to all of the people.

            We live in a world which, increasingly, appears to be led by rulers who are ignorant of the law, or merely believe that the law does not apply to them. As Chief Justice Roberts has recently opined, no one – including the President of the United States – is above the law.

            While the Chief Justice did not cite this verse, it is clear that our nation is (at least) in theory identical to the government envisioned in the Torah: a government of laws, applicable to all.

 

Kashrut

 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. 14:2-3 “For you are a people consecrated to Adonai, your God; your God chose you from among all other peoples on earth to be a treasured people. You shall not eat anything abhorrent.”

 

I will admit it. In recent years, I have had increasing trouble with the concept of kashrut. The principle reasons the Sages offer for its observance (it was God’s command, it keeps us separate from other peoples, it limits our passion by recognizing that there are limits) seem less relevant to me today than they once were. Nevertheless, I persevere in my current level of observance.

            Perhaps it is because I no longer have parents or grandparents whom I wish not to anger.

            Perhaps the rationales offered by the Sages do not resonate with the same frequency or dynamic that they once did.

            Perhaps it is because some of the kashrut certifying entities are corrupt, and perhaps because producers of kosher products do not all observe appropriate standards of ethical behavior viz a viz animals or their employees.

            Nevertheless, I still have an emotional tie to this tradition which translates into higher priced meat and poultry, multiple sets of pots and dishes and silverware. I am not sure why I still do this.

            It’s been said that to be an Israelite is to literally wrestle with God. I continue to wrestle.

Stiff-Necked

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. 9:6 “Know that it is not for any virtue of yours that Adonai your God is giving you this Land to own, for you are a stiff-necked people.”

 

We are, most would admit, surrounded by stiff-necked people these days. Indeed, many of those reading these words fall into that category, at least politically. Rashi tells us “They turn the stiff back of their necks toward those who would rebuke them and refuse to listen.” And the Sforno adds, “Hence there is no hope that they will repent, but follow the stubbornness of their hearts as before.” After they built the Golden Calf, God refers to the People of Israel as am k’shei oref (stiff-necked). Despite multiple warnings, the people are susceptible to idolatry and are too stubborn to change their ways.

            Commenting on am k’shei oref, Nachmanides notes that being stiff-necked can earn positive results. He explains: “God is in their midst because they are a stiff-necked people” (Ramban on Exodus 34:9). Throughout the years of wandering in the wilderness, the People Israel were rebellious and wayward children, always getting into trouble. God could have simply sent an angel to accompany us on the way, but God drew even nearer, kept an even closer watch on us. Because we are a stiff-necked people, we require even more of God’s attention and care. And God does not give up on us.

            Perhaps Nachmanides’ concept can provide hope to Americans in this incredibly difficult time of epidemic, political division, unemployment, and fear. God does not give up on us, and perhaps we should not give up on ourselves.

P.S.: I'm attaching a link to a terrific article which discusses Jewish views of why evil persists in the world. Worth a read:

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/a-traditional-jewish-approach-to-the-problem-of-evil/?utm_source=mjl_maropost&utm_campaign=MJL&utm_medium=email&mpweb=1161-21781-94782  

Standing idly by

Korach

Num. 16:1 - 18:32

Précis: Korach foments a rebellion, claiming that Moses and Aaron have taken too much power for themselves. Datan and Abiram also attack Moses’ leadership, claiming that Moses has brought them from a land of milk and honey (Egypt!) only to let them die in the wilderness. A test of fire offerings is arranged, and Korach and his followers are destroyed as the earth opens and swallows them. The People continue to complain, God threatens to destroy them once again, but Moses and Aaron intercede. A plague takes the lives of 14,000 people. A final test, that of staffs, is performed, and when Aaron’s staff miraculously blossoms on the following morning, it is clear that his status as High Priest is secure.

           

Num. 16:21-22 “Whereupon Moses and Aaron fell on their faces and pleaded with God: ‘O God, Source of the breath of all flesh! When one man sins, will You be wrathful with the whole community?... ‘Speak to the community and say, ‘Withdraw from the abodes of Korach, Datan, and Abiram.’”

            In the initial confrontation between Moses and Korach, only the principals are named. Here, in the subsequent confrontation, all of the people are present and are threatened by God. Moses intervenes, and the devastation is limited to Korach and his followers.

            But why does God want to destroy the entire nation ? After all, the threat was only by the rebellious followers of Korach, Datan, and Abiram. Perhaps it is because the others were indifferent to the evil surrounding them. 

            This is a reminder: for evil to triumph, all that is required is that people of good will stand idly by. 

The Edah

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. 14:27 “How much longer will that wicked community keep murmuring against Me?”

Here, God complains about the “murmuring” by the people following the dour report of 10 of the spies. The word for “community” in Hebrew (“edah”) which here numbered ten was used by the Rabbis as the basis for creating the requirement of a minyan, the Jewish quorum needed for communal prayer and observance. This fact has been powerfully driven home in recent months by the pandemic, when “virtual” services have been attempted as substitutes for the communal acts we would ordinarily engage in together.

The Conservative Movement has recently issued a legal opinion (t’shuvah) stating that certain rituals, including Shabbat and holiday services, may be conducted virtually. Some congregations, such as my own, have decided that they will begin to stream services provided that a minyan is present in the sanctuary. Some members of my congregation (including myself) have already been participating in “Zoom” services on Shabbat together, with the kind of substantial two-way interaction which a one-way stream does not offer. This is a matter of deep concern to those who feel torn between the need for observance of traditional halacha and the real need for “edah.”

I would also note that this week’s reading takes place during a time of heightened awareness of institutional racism which is part of America’s DNA. “Murmuring” about its impact is not sufficient. We, as a community - an edah – need to be outspoken and supportive of equal rights for all.

Humility

 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 began 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.12:3 “Now the man Moses was very humble, more than all the men that were upon the face of the earth.”

        This verse comes after the People grumble about food, are provided meat, and continue to murmur through a subsequent plague (perhaps from overeating). Moses complains that he’d rather be dead than continue to lead such an ungrateful people. His brother and sister criticize him about his marital relationship. (Footnote: while some say the “Cushite woman” was actually Moses’ second wife from Ethiopia, other suggest that the “Cushite woman” is in fact his original wife, Zipporah, who had a dark complexion, and that therefore Miriam’s critique was racist.)

            After this compilation of trials, we are reminded that Moses is “very humble.” What does humility mean? Humility (“anavut”) is highly prized in our tradition, but comes with a warning: too much humility means that one lacks faith that he or she can accomplish anything: ​"​I am nothing! What can I possibly do?​"​

             Here Moses could have remained silent and ignored Miriam (and Aaron’s) condemnation. Instead, he prays for Miriam’s recovery when she is stricken with a plague by God. Sometimes, humility requires us to act.

            My generation of American Jews has enjoyed privilege: relative wealth and security, access to education, jobs, and housing. Jews throughout history have not been similarly treated, and anti-Semitism still exists in America and elsewhere around the world. But by comparison with most of Jewish history, we have been truly blessed and have lived in exceptional times.

            Just as Moses’ left his life of privilege for a greater cause, we have the ability to speak and march to support the cause of racial equality, to protest police brutality where it exists, and to resist the erosion of our First Amendment rights. Like Moses, this would be an ultimate expression of humility.  

A Matter of Trust

Nasso

Num. 4:21-7:89

Précis: The parasha (the longest of the weekly readings) opens with a continuation of the listing of the Levitical families and their duties regarding the transportation of holy vessels. This is followed by a brief commandment concerning restitution for wrongs. The parasha then turns to a mysterious procedure for testing a wife’s fidelity when questioned by her jealous husband. Next, we have a discussion of the laws of Nazerites, and the recitation of the “Priestly Benediction.” The parasha concludes with the presentation of identical gifts by each tribe for the dedication of the Altar.

Num. 5:11-29  “…If the spirit of jealousy come upon him, and she be defiled, or … not be defiled, the man will bring her to the priest, and shall bring an offering for her...And the priest will set her before Adonai…and take holy water in an earthen vessel, and of the dust on the floor of the tabernacle, and put them in the water…and the priest shall cause the woman to…drink the water of bitterness….and if she be not defiled… then she shall be cleared and shall conceive.”

            These verses describe an “ordeal” undertaken against a woman accused of adultery by her husband. [The practice was abolished early in the rabbinic period.] Why should we study it now?

            One rationale for its relevance is that the practice was illustrative of our tradition’s insistence of trust in any relationship. Trust must be earned, and once lost, can be enormously difficult to restore. This is certainly true in familial relationships, and I suggest it is true in our more public relationships as well.

              Two matters spring to my mind this week. It is evident that many in communities of color (as well as many in the white community as well) have lost faith in our police forces. All should acknowledge that the vast majority of police officers are dedicated to the public they are sworn to protect and defend, but a small number of those officers have acted in a way which people of good conscience must find offensive and unacceptable.

            While we have experienced periodic episodes of violent protests following police officers who engaged in despicable behavior (the beating of Rodney King was only one example), this may be the first time when “citizen journalists” have photographed developments and spread them virally through social media. There is an old adage in journalism: “if it bleeds, it leads.” So, we get an overemphasis of the relatively few who engage in acts of police misconduct or of looting, and precious little appears about quiet, determined, and nonviolent protests, or of the officers who express support for those who protest instances of abuse by their fellow cops. How we can restore the trust is a conundrum, but one which leads to the second point I would like to raise.

            The Presidency of the United States has been called “a bully pulpit,” a phrase usually attributed to Theodore Roosevelt. With the twin plagues we are experiencing in our country today, we are sorely in need of a President who can lead with reason and compassion, and remind us that we have more in common than those things which divides us. Unfortunately, the pulpit is empty.

            Our President lashes out at imaginary conspiracies, claims that these riots are organized by a secret cabal of radical Democratic left-wingers. He makes no distinction between peaceful protestors and a small violent minority engaged in looting. He repeats racist phrases: “When there’s looting, there’s shooting.” He talks about using “vicious dogs” as if the memory of their use by Bull Connor in the 1960’s has not been burned into the memory of all who lived then.  

            He ignores the recommendations of his own administration officials about dealing with the Coronavirus pandemic, and undermines their credibility with the American public. This President displays a remarkable lack of empathy for those in need. He lashes out at minorities and immigrants, calls those engaged in protests “bad people” but calls people carrying the treasonous Confederate battle flag “good people.” How can we trust him with anything at all, let alone with the future of the American People?

            I recognize fully that every leader makes mistakes, and many in fact have lied to the American People. But where is leadership like Ronald Reagan after the Challenger disaster, or George W. Bush after 9/11, or Barack Obama singing "Amazing Grace" at a memorial to victims of racism? We had leadership we could trust, whether we agreed with the specific policies those Presidents stood for or not. That is sadly not the case with the current incumbent, the political yes-men he surrounds himself with, or with those members of his party who previously have tried to speak truth to power, but have abandoned this effort, to their shame. How can this Presient regain the trust of all Americans? I cannot imagine any scenario in which this is possible.