Singular and Plural

 Vayikra

Lev. 1:1 - 5:26

 

Précis: The title of the Third Book of the Torah, Vayikra (“And He called”) is usually translated as “Leviticus” in English, from its Septuagint (Greek) name, because much of the Book concerns ritual sacrifices performed under the auspices of the Levites.

            The introduction to this Book in Etz Hayim reminds us that the “central concern” of the ancient Israelites was “how they were to express their loyalty” to God. The answer from Vayikra: they were “to be holy, for I Adonai Your God, am holy.”   Etz Hayim also reminds us of the importance of ritual: “…[S]omething in the human soul responds to ritual, whether it be the formality of a traditional wedding or the rituals of a sporting event…”

            The sacrificial ritual in Vayikra is expressed in terms of actions which ended with the destruction of the Second Temple. While we often use the word “sacrifice” for the described rituals, the word has a deeper meaning in the Hebrew. “Korban” (offering or sacrifice) is from a root meaning “to draw closer.” The system of sacrifices (“korbanot”) was designed to allow the Israelites to “draw closer” to the Ineffable.

            With the end of the sacrificial system, the instructions of Vayikra for centuries remained an important area of study because of the belief that a restoration of the sacrificial cult would occur. Subsequently, we have tried to understand the underlying meaning behind those rituals in terms we can apply to our present lives.

 

Lev. 1:2 – “When any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, he shall choose his offering g from the herd or from the flock.”

The first parasha of Vayikra includes an overview of the laws of sacrifice: the offerings of animals, fowl, meal, oil, and fruits. We have general descriptions of burnt offerings, sin offerings, peace offerings, offerings made by individuals, communal offerings, and offerings from common people, from rulers, and from priests.

As is noted in Etz Hayyim, the opening words in the Hebrew are singular, but the Torah soon shifts to the plural. This suggests the core of the religious experience. A Hasidic teacher taught that we enter a synagogue as individuals but that the experience of worshipping together leads us to go beyond our separateness and become part of a community. It is not just a Rabbinic dictum which demands that certain prayers can only be recited in the presence of a minyan. This is an essential tenet of our religious life: while we may certainly engage in Jewish worship individually, it is only when a community comes together that true belonging can take place.

Dolphins?

 Vayakhel-Pekudei

Ex. 35:1 – 40:38

Précis: In Vayakhel, Moses instructs the People again on the laws of Shabbat and asks for a donation of gifts (both of material and service) for the construction of the Tabernacle. The appointment of the construction leaders is also included, and the construction begins. There are again specific descriptions of implements, articles, and of the Ark itself.

            Pekudei is the final parasha of the Book of Exodus. It begins with an inventory of the items used in the construction of the Mishkan, as well as the vessels and clothing collected by Moses and Aaron. When the accounts are squared, the completed structure is blessed. The Ark is placed within, as are the various holy vessels, and a cloud of glory descends and covers the tent.

 

Ex. 35:5-7 “Take from among the gifts to the Lord; everyone whose heart so moves him shall bring them - gifts for the Lord: gold, silver and copper; blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen and goats’ hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood…”

            So how do the Israelites in the Sinai wilderness gather dolphin skins for use in building the Mishkan? The Hebrew word is “tachash” and is translated by the Jewish Publication Society as “dolphin,” but they note that the meaning is “uncertain.”

            There are a great variety of interpretations as to the meaning of the word: a joyful color, a colorful worm, an animal with a single horn, soft-dressed skin or beaded leather. The word appears 14 times in the Bible, most of which relate to the building of the Mishkan, where the material is used as a covering for holy materials. (It also appears in Ezekiel, where it appears to be a material used in sandal making.) Another midrash suggests that the “dolphins” were connected with the miracle of the Red Sea splitting and served as fish herders, keeping the sea life safe behind watery walls (and some fell through and were preserved for the use described here).

            Most modern interpreters suggest that the word is borrowed from an Egyptian word meaning to stretch out leather in a frame. I prefer a metaphor: the tachash was rough and strong on the outside but protected the sacred within it. In that way, it seems similar to the sabra, a plant whose prickly exterior but sweet inside gave its name to native-born Israelis.

            We are left with a definitional ambiguity, but an idea to which we can all aspire: be tough, but maintain holiness within.

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The Death of a new Haman

 Ki Tissa

Ex. 30:11-34:35

 

Précis: The parasha begins with a census of the people, accomplished by the collection of a half shekel. We then return to a description of Tabernacle items, including the basin, anointing oil, and incense. The holy work of building the Tabernacle is to be interrupted by Shabbat. Then we return to narrative. Moses is given the two tablets and he descends from Mount Sinai. There he sees the people worshipping the Golden Calf. He smashes the tablets and the evil doers are punished. Moses returns up the mountain, and we next have the articulation of the 13 Attributes of God. Moses carves a new set of tablets, and returns to the People, his face radiant.

 

Deut. 25:17-19 “Remember what Amalek did to you as you came out of Egypt; how he struck those in the rear when you were faint and weary. Therefore, when Adonai your God has given you rest from your enemies in the Land… you will blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; you will not forget.”

Given the events of this past week, I’ve chosen not to look to this week’s reading, but instead to that of last week, when we observed “Shabbat Zachor,” the Shabbat of Remembrance (which takes place on the Shabbat before the holiday of Purim). It is one of the special Shabbatot leading up to Passover. The verse above is an important one when we consider our response to evil in the world.

            Others have noted that there is also a connection between Haman and Khameni. Both were Persian, and both sought to exterminate the Jewish People. Both died because of their fomentation of genocide.

            Our tradition has another connection to current events. Haman is a descendant of Amalek, and we remember them to blot them out. Khameni was a de facto Amalekite and richly deserved his fate at the hands of Israel. In so doing, the IDF was following the Jewish obligation of destroying evil in the world, particularly when they threatened the Jewish State. We should remember that for more than three decades, Khameni led the chants of “Death to Israel, Death to America.” These were not idle threats. Iran’s support of terrorists across the Middle East and across the world were designed to lead to the goals of their death chants.

            I fully support the results of the actions undertaken to eliminate the threats of Iran to Israel and perhaps to the United States. But as a believer in the rule of law, I cannot forget that under current American law the President is precluded from initiating military action unless there is an “imminent threat” to our nation.  Such a threat has not been articulated let alone demonstrated.  As an additional connection to the Purim story, even King Achashverosh’s actions were limited by Persian law, since he could not revoke Haman’s orders made under the king’s seal. Our President should be similarly bound by law.

Finally, successful national building in the Middle East by foreign powers has never been successful. We can only pray that such efforts will be successful this time around.

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Righteous Judgement

T’tzaveh

Ex. 27:20-30:10

 

Précis: The parasha continues with a description of ritual items in the Tabernacle, including oil for the lamp, priestly clothing, the ephod, breastplate, robes, plate, and miter. Aaron and his sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eliezer and Ithamar are designated as Priests and are consecrated with sacrifices and ceremony. The parasha concludes with a description of the daily sacrifices and incense to be offered at the Tabernacle.

 

Ex. 28:17 “And thou shalt set in it settings of stones, even four rows of stones: the first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle: this shall be the first row.”

This verse starts the discussion of the 12 gems found on the “breastpiece of decision (or justice)” (hoshen mishpat) worn over the heart by the High Priest. The 12 stones, each inscribed with a tribe's name, symbolized both the unity and diversity of the People and reminded the high priest to intercede for all the tribes collectively. This priestly accoutrement seems to have been a cloth folded over to form a kind of pouch holding the “urim” and “thummim” (a pair of stones used to seek Divine guidance for particularly difficult decisions).

As suggested in Etz Hayyim, the stones were of various colors, representing differing stages of human existence. They could be considered part of a spectrum, from mere survival to a full human existence filled with moral and ethical behavior. When the priest wore all of the colors together, it was a reminder that he represented all of the individuals within the Jewish People, regardless of circumstance.

The breastplate and the use of the “urim” and “thummim” once emphasized the role of the high priest as a bridge between God and God’s People, but the practice ended long ago, most probably with the destruction of the First Temple (Ez. 2:63). Today it serves as a continuing symbol of the importance of the need for righteous judgment by the leadership of Israel. 

A Single Piece

T’rumah

Ex. 25:1-27:19

Précis: As the Israelites continue their journey through the wilderness, God tells Moses to ask the people for gifts to build the Tabernacle. “T’rumah” (voluntary donations) of fine metals, yarns, skins, and woods are offered by the People. God gives Moses precise instructions as to the interior and exterior construction of the Mishkan (tabernacle). Specific items include an altar for burnt offerings, a curtain (parochet) to separate the main room from an inner sanctum, elaborate candlesticks, incense burners, and other tools. There will be a special Ark to be placed in an area called the Holy of Holies to house the tablets of the Ten Commandments. Precise measures are given for all spaces as well as specific materials designated for the composition of the Mishkan.

 

Ex 25:31 “Make a lampstand of pure gold. The whole lampstand, including its decorative flowers, must be made from a single piece of hammered gold.”

 

My friend Shlomo Ressler has written an interesting d’var about the fabrication of the Menorah (Weekly D’var, 2/26/25). He notes that most of the objects connected to the Mishkan were made of multiple parts, including the Ark itself. Why, then, must the Menorah be created out of a single block of gold?

            Observing that the Menorah had seven separate branches, he cites authority suggesting that each of the seven branches of the Menorah branch represents a different segment of the Jewish People, and that the ornaments on each branch represent different understandings of Torah. Each branch and each ornament contribute in its own way to a single illumination of the world. We are all different, but we are also made of a single piece of hammered gold. When we remember our common origin, we can remain united and strong.

Which is it?

Mishpatim

Ex. 21:1 - 24:18

 

Précis: Having received the Ten Commandments in the previous parasha, Moses now reveals ordinances (mishpatim) needed to implement a comprehensive system of laws. The first group of commandments (mitzvot) relates to the rights of servants (slaves), followed by rules about murder, crimes against parents, personal injury law, offenses against property, and bailment. A list of moral offenses follows, including seduction, witchcraft, sexual perversion, polytheism, and oppression of the “widow, the orphan, and the stranger among you.” The parasha also includes the command to observe a sabbatical year, the Shabbat, and then lists the requirements for the observance of the pilgrimage festivals (Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot). The command not to boil a kid in its mothers’ milk (a key proof text for the laws of kashrut) is mentioned, and at the conclusion of the parasha, we find a ceremony where the People, represented by Moses and 70 elders, have an encounter with the Divine Presence and accept the laws and the Covenant.

Ex. 22:21 “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.

Ex. 23:30 “Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land.”

           

Rabbi Sarah Bassin has posed a critical question illustrated by the following statements:

(1) Religion is the source of most atrocities in the world.

(2) Religion makes us better people.

 “Well, which is it?” she asks (Ten Minutes of Torah, 2/18).

 We can look to sacred texts in our tradition (and in others) and find statements which condone violence, and we can also find those that urge compassion for others. Many believers are reluctant to acknowledge violent passages, while nonbelievers pretend that texts calling for compassion are lacking. In this week’s reading, we have texts of both kinds, almost adjacent to each other. We can’t mistreat or oppress the foreigner, but the natives of the Promised Land will be driven out (initially by God but subsequently by Joshua and the Israelites). In other words, love the stranger and kill the nations. Our tradition is not as neat as we would like it to be.

            This is actually a deeply accurate analysis of human nature. We may take pity on any individual and feel compassion for him. But a group? We often ascribe to a group a stereotypical understanding. As Stalin reportedly said, “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.”

            Will we see people as individual strangers or as part of a group which threatens our safety or security? We must acknowledge that this is at the bottom of our concerns about “others” here in the United States and in Israel. As Rabbin Bassin notes, “Both impulses exist. Both serve a purpose.”

In a democratic society, we certainly prefer the rhetoric of the stranger over the rhetoric of wiping out the other nations, yet we cannot ignore our need for the preservation of our security. But if preservation becomes the definition of our societal identity, what are we preserving?

            It is an oversimplification to claim that religion is all about compassion, or that religion is the primary reason for evil. These extremes miss the point. Judaism in particular gives us the context to wrestle with our own nature in a complex world.

By offering contradictory teachings, this parasha makes us examine ourselves: how do we treat strangers and who do we want to be? The questions are hard, and the answers don’t come easily. But our tradition’s emphasis on treating the less fortunate among us with compassion (the single most repeated commandment in the Torah) leads us in the right direction. 

Faith

Yitro

Ex. 18:1 - 20:23

 

Précis:  Following last week’s trip through the Red Sea, Moses is reunited with his father-in-law Jethro (“Yitro”) and with his family. Yitro acknowledges God, gives wise advice to Moses about delegating responsibility, and Moses appoints assistants (judges). The Israelites come to the foot of Mount Sinai where, in the ultimate experience, Revelation takes place as the “Ten Utterances” (Commandments) are spoken to the People by the very Voice of God.

 

Ex. 20:2 “I the Lord am your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, the house of bondage.”

            The Ten Commandments begin with an affirmation of God’s reality. Almost by definition, this requires “faith” in something which is transcendental (beyond the understanding of human beings). It is interesting to note that our “faith” is based on an implied quid pro quo: we recognize God because God took us out of slavery.

            Traditional analysis suggests that “faith” or “belief” is an essential element of Judaism. For many, this has been expressed in the undertaking of mitzvot; for others, this has been expressed in terms of hope, either in this world or in a “world to come.”

I am uncertain what “faith” means in a Jewish context and what it means to me personally. When I was young, “faith” seemed to be linked to some Being to whom one could ask for things and hope that  one's wishes would be fulfilled. The I/Thou relationship as expressed by Heschel (although in truth quite a complex notion) was to the younger version of myself rather simple: I can ask, and God can deliver. Another quid quo pro.

 As I’ve aged, I’ve observed, in the words of Kohelet, that all is “vanity,” meaning unpredictable or even meaningless to human senses. The quid quo pro exists in the land of hope, but not always in the land of life. Therefore, I’ve come to see that “faith” cannot be based on hope. At the same time, I have learned that faith can be based on gratitude. After all, as is implied in this week’s parasha, it is gratitude that is demanded of us.  

Nachshon

B’shalach

Ex. 13:17-17:16

 

Précis: And when Pharaoh “had let them go” (b’shalach), the story of the Exodus from Egypt is almost concluded. Carrying with them the bones of Joseph and the “spoils of Egypt,” Moses leads the Israelites by way of the Red (or Reed) Sea. They cross the sea ahead of Pharaoh’s pursuing army, which subsequently drowns in the returning waters. Moses sings his triumphant Song of the Sea, and Miriam’s song of joy follows. The Israelites begin to murmur against Moses and Aaron because of a lack of food and water. God provides heavenly “manna” to eat and provides water as well. The Shabbat is introduced as a day of rest, even before it appears in the Ten Commandments. In their first battle led by Joshua, against Amalek, the Israelites are successful as long as Moses’ hands remain in the air, and with the help of Aaron and Hur (who support Moses’ arms), they prevail. 

Ex. 14:21-28: “Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left. The Egyptians pursued them, and all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots and horsemen followed them into the sea…The water flowed back and covered the chariots and horsemen—the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed the Israelites into the sea. Not one of them survived.”

            This is a story imprinted on us from ancient times to modern storytelling. Brave Charlton Heston Moses raises his arms and the seas split. But there is a midrash which tells another story (BT Sotah 36b-37a). There, the Sages imagine the Israelites standing in terror at the water’s edge, with Pharaoh's army ready to pounce upon them. Moses raises his hands and nothing happens! With Moses’ apparent failure to produce another miracle, one individual, by the name of Nachshon steps into the water and begins to walk. The water rises to his knees, his waist, his chest, his neck, and up to his nostrils. Suddenly, the Sea recedes as we are told in the text itself.

            The moral is simple: God may act in mysterious ways, but it is incumbent upon us to take the first steps.  Freedom may be God’s gift, but it is obtained by courage, faith, and risking danger. As I have written before, my generation was raised and has lived in a Golden Era for American Jews. That was achieved through the toil and efforts of those who came before us. Our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents dreamt the American Dream of freedom and took action to fulfil those dreams.

            Nachshon had faith but also saw that faith alone was insufficient. Personal action, however dangerous and seemingly impotent, was needed. Can we do less than Nachshon to protect our American Dream?

Principles

Bo

Ex.10:1-13:16

 

Précis: God sends additional plagues (locusts and darkness) and alerts Moses that the 10^th and final plague will follow. God instructs Moses on the institution of the Passover. Then, the final plague, the death of the first born, is wrecked upon Egypt. The Israelites, accompanied by the “mixed multitudes,” leave Egypt, carrying with them the “spoils of Egypt” given to them by the Egyptians. The parasha ends with a repetition of the laws regarding Passover.

 

Ex. 10:8 “How long shall this one be a snare to us? Let the men go to worship Adonai, their God! Are you not yet aware that Egypt is lost?”

            Pharaoh’s servants plead for Pharaoh to allow the Israelites to leave. He continues to defy God, and as a result all of the Egyptians are struck with the deadly final plague.

            We have long admired leaders who “stand by their principles.” But when does such adherence become a dangerous disregard for consequences? A traditional Jewish text advises that “Those who stubbornly refuse to learn from the negative consequences of their behavior will suffer doubly for their stubbornness.” Pharoah learned this lesson only after the devastation of his country by the death of all of the first born in the final, terrible plague.

            Today, we see in the United States and in Israel leaders who ignore the potential disaster of continuing to stick to their “principles.” Can Israel find peace through a dream of a “Greater Israel” which annexes the West Bank? Is the “ownership” of Greenland more important than NATO which has protected us for 75 years, and is the use of masked para-military in our country’s cities turning our country into an autocratic state?

Truth and freedom

Vaera

Ex. 6:2 - 9:35

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

 

Exodus 8:27-28 “Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron and said, ‘Go, sacrifice to your God here in the land.’ But Moses said, ‘That would not be right. The sacrifices we offer the Lord our God would be detestable to the Egyptians. And if we offer sacrifices that are detestable in their eyes, will they not stone us? We must take a three-day journey into the wilderness to offer sacrifices to the Lord our God, as He commands us.’”

            Why did Moses not tell the whole truth to Pharoah? Not just here, but throughout the Exodus narrative, Moses never states that the Israelites would be leaving forever. As Rabbi Sacks has noted (Rabbi Sacks Legacy, 1/23/25), Moses makes it seem as if all he is asking for is permission for the people to undertake a three-day journey, to offer sacrifices to God and then (by implication) to return to Egypt. It is only after the Israelites have left does Pharaoh understand the full truth, when he asks (Ex. 14:5) “What have we done? How could we have released Israel from doing our work?

Commentators throughout the ages have offered a variety of suggestions: it was impossible for Moses to tell the truth to a tyrant like Pharaoh; technically, Moses did not tell a lie; God told Moses deliberately to make a small request, to demonstrate Pharaoh’s cruelty and indifference to his slaves; this was war between Pharaoh and the Jewish people, and in war it is permitted to deceive.

Sacks notes that the interactions between Moses and Pharoah are part of a pattern of half-truths and deceit in Genesis: both Abraham and Isaac present their wives as sisters; Jacob claims to be his brother to receive a blessing; he also leaves his father-in-law secretly, and gives a false excuse to travel behind Esau following their reunion; and Jacob’s sons are deceitful about Joseph’s death, and deceitful again by stating that they are merely seeking circumcision from the inhabitants of Shechem to avenge their sister’s rape.

These episodes are not accidental or coincidental. As Sacks notes, the implication seems to be that outside the Promised Land, Jews in the biblical age are in danger if they tell the truth and are at constant risk of being killed or enslaved. Why? Because they are powerless in an age of power.

Nevertheless, in Judaism, truth is the essential precondition of trust between human beings. The Torah in the interchange between Moses and Pharaoh is not justifying deceit. Rather, it is condemning a system in which telling the truth may put one’s life at risk. Judaism is a religion of dissent, questioning, wrestling with God, and making “arguments for the sake of heaven.”  Every Amidah ends with the prayer, “My God, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from deceitful speech.”

            The Torah in this vignette is telling us about the connection between freedom and truth. Where there is freedom there can be truth. Without freedom, there can be no truth. 

We are not free to do less than we are able to accomplish

Five years ago this week, on January 6, 2021, I wrote the following d’var Torah, which I reiterate today with an important PS at the end.

Shemot

Ex. 1:1 - 6:1

Précis: With this parasha, we begin the second book of the Bible, Exodus. In Hebrew, the title for this book is “Shemot” (names) because the first verses begin with a listing of “names” of the Israelites who came down to Egypt with Jacob, to dwell in Goshen in response to Joseph and Pharaoh’s offer. 

            A new Pharaoh has arisen who “does not remember Joseph.” He enslaves the Israelites and orders the killing of all male children. A Levite male child is born, is hidden by his parents, and is sent down the river in a reed basket where he is saved by Pharaoh’s daughter. He is subsequently identified as Moses.

            Nothing appears in the text about Moses’ childhood, other than that he is raised in the house of Pharaoh. As an adult, Moses witnesses a taskmaster beating a Hebrew and slays the taskmaster. Next, he witnesses a fight between two Hebrews. When he attempts to intervene, one Hebrew mentions Moses’ killing of the Egyptian. Fearing disclosure, Moses flees to the desert.

            There, Moses becomes a shepherd in the camp of Jethro, a Midianite “priest.” He encounters the burning bush and learns God’s “name.” Moses receives his charge to free the Israelites and is provided with signs to authenticate his mission. Before leaving Jethro, Moses marries Zipporah and they have a child. Moses and his brother Aaron go before Pharaoh and ask that the people be freed to worship God in the desert. They are refused, and the burdens are increased on the slaves, who become angry with Moses for his interference. The parasha ends with God telling Moses, “You now will see what I will do to Pharaoh.”

 

(From Jan. 6, 2021) Yesterday’s attempted coup and invasion of the Capitol by a mob, many carrying Trump banners, others American flags, and others toting the Confederate Battle flag of traitors reminded me that our Jewish tradition can be a source for solace at this awful time.

            Michelle Missagieh, writing in MyJewishLearning.com (1/17/17) talks about the excuses Moses makes in attempting to reject his responsibilities of leadership. She cites three instances. First, Moses is instructed to gather the Israelite leaders, and when he demurs, God promises to smite the Egyptians (presumably with plagues) in Exodus 3:15-22. Moses says he will lack proof, but God tells Moses how to turn a rod into a snake as evidence of his competence (Ex. 4:1). Moses again offers an excuse: he is “slow of speech.” God reassures him once again. God pushes Moses, Moses pushes back. Moses is the opposite of our current President: he rejects his right to leadership. Missagieh suggests that Moses’ hesitation comes from the common human fear of failure. She cites Buber’s account of the Hassidic Rabbi Zusya, of the late 1700’s, who before his death said, “In the coming world, they will not ask me: ‘Why were you not Moses?’ They will ask me: ‘Why were you not Zusya?’”

            All Moses needed to do was to be himself. What is important is not overestimating oneself with the sin of narcissism, and what is equally important is not unduly humbling oneself. What is important and necessary is knowing one’s place in the world and understanding one’s obligations. We are not challenged to do more than we are capable of or permitted to do, but neither are we free to do less than we are able to accomplish.

            This week, I offer a challenge to Americans of good faith everywhere, and to President-elect Biden and Vice-President-elect Harris in particular: do not do more than you are legally capable of but do no less. Know your place under our constitutional government and respond to the needs of all of the American People, with the kind of leadership which Moses exhibited. 

             Remember, the story of the Exodus was not over in a single day; in fact, it was a more than 40-year struggle. But that struggle ended with the realization of great hope: the attainment of the land. May our own goals for a reunion of the American polity and a rededication to our constitutional processes come soon and in our day. Ken yehi ratzon.

 

P.S. Five years have passed. President Biden did his job and successfully prosecuted the rioters and the seditious mob which invaded Congress, who sought to overturn not only the election results, but our Constitution. We now know with certainty that then-President Trump encouraged the rioters, endangering even his own Vice President. Five years after the Jan. 6 Capitol attack, Trump is using presidential power—through mass pardons, firings at the Justice Department and FBI, and official messaging— in an Orwellian attempt to recast the violent siege as a peaceful protest and to legitimize false claims that the 2020 election was stolen. He still accuses former Vice President Mike Pence of refusing to block certification of the electoral votes and continues to blame police for the violence.

            To add to his lengthy list of offenses against our country and the Constitution we can add his unforgivable (though nonreviewable) pardons of the mobs who threatened our nation’s future and attacked the brave police defenders of our national capitol. These seditious convicted felons are now seeking “compensation” for the “wrongs” done to them.

Five years ago, I prayed for a rededication to our constitutional processes. Unfortunately, the current President defies all for which I prayed. I can only repeat that prayer today, with the continuing hope that it happens quickly in our time.  

Ephraim and Manasseh

Vayechi

Gen. 47:28 - 50:26

 

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

Gen. 48:20 “He blessed them that day and said, “[In the time to come] Israel will use you as a blessing. They will say, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh.’”

   As I have mentioned before, I’ve adopted the tradition of blessing my sons with these words each Shabbat (sometimes in person, sometimes on Zoom or Facetime or Messenger). Why has this tradition persisted for thousands of years?

One traditional commentator (Yalkut Yehudah) suggested that they were the first two Jewish children born in exile, and they kept their identities (as is evidenced by their Hebrew names) and so later generations were blessed by their names, as a way to continue their identification with the Jewish People. Another suggestion is that the blessing was by a grandfather to his grandsons (the only such instance in the Bible), and while parental/child relationships may be difficult, relationships between grandparents and their grandchildren are more usually marked by love and kindness.

            There is one other interpretation which I find particularly moving. Recall that sibling rivalry is a constant theme in Genesis. When Jacob adopts his grandsons as sons and gives them blessings, he places his right hand on the younger brother, Ephraim, giving him “priority” over his older brother Manasseh. Tradition holds that Manasseh and Ephraim remained close and loving, while such a switch caused a great rift between Jacob and Esau. The sons of Joseph were the exemplars of brotherly love.

            When we bless our children, it is not only for their health and happiness. We pray that they will love each other like Ephraim and Manasseh.