Leadership

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, his status as High Priest is secure.

 

Num. 16:3 “You have gone too far! The whole community is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is with them. Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?”

Rabbi Sacks notes that Korach had a point: at the heart of his challenge is the idea of equality (Rabbi Sacks Legacy, 6/26/25).  However, Korach does not mean what he says. He claims to be opposed to the institution of leadership, but at the same time he wants to be the leader. Korach asks, “Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?”  and in so doing he is mistaken in his view of leadership. He sees leadership as a matter of status, and that the leader is what we would today call an “alpha male” who controls, directs, and dominates. But this is not the kind of leadership which our tradition honors. Moses, the greatest leader, is one about whom it is said “He was a very humble man, more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth” (Num. 12:3). In our tradition, leadership is not a matter of status but of function, and leadership is not about popularity. Even further, a true leader is not eager for the job. Witness Moses’ repeatedly attempting to avoid leadership of Israel.

This was Korach’s mistake. He thought leaders were those who set themselves above others. 

Truth

Sh’lach

Num. 13:1-15:41

 

Précis: Moses is ordered to “send out” (sh’lach) 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. Near its end, the parasha discusses the wearing of tzitzit, a paragraph which is part of the traditional recitation of the Sh’ma.

 

Num. 13:27-28 “And they told him, ‘We came to the land you sent us to, and surely it flows with milk and honey; but the people that live in the land are fierce. And the cities are fortified, and very great, moreover, we saw Amalekites there.’”

What is “truth?”  There was a time when we could say. “you can argue about your opinions, but you can’t argue about the truth.” Sadly, that is no longer part of American political discourse. In the verses above, the spies report on “facts” but interpret them in a way which causes consternation among the Israelites. These days, we have a President of the United States who, when confronted with demands for proof of his absurd “facts,” walks away from the interview and calls the interviewer names. The war with Iran has been called “over” too many times to mention, yet the war continues.​

As Ron Charles has noted (RonCharles@substack.com, 6/12/26), the Covid-19 pandemic and the rush of research it generated inspired a backlash of misinformation and skepticism about evidence. Given Trump’s systematic attacks on science — and his appointment of a kook as secretary of Health and Human Services — the way forward is not clear. Right now, the world needs more people who value evidence, because those who don’t are gaining strength.

            This is also true in social media, where so-called “antizionists” ignore context, background, and history, and claim that the modern State of Israel is a colonial extension by and on behalf of Europeans.

            The Israelites were doomed to wander in the wilderness for forty years until a new generation could emerge who owed fealty to truth. I hope that we may be the generation which reveres truth, but fear that it may take decades for us to reach our Promised Land.

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Torah and Secular Learning

B’haalot’cha

Num. 8:1 - 12:16

 

Précis: The parasha begins with a description of the making of the seven-branched menorah. 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).  The march of the People through the wilderness of Sinai begins, led by the Ark. The people murmur, this time about a lack of meat. God provides, but the People are struck with a plague. Even Miriam and Aaron seem to have complaints about Moses regarding the “Cushite woman.”

 

Num. 8:1-3 “And Adonai spoke to Moses, saying, ‘Speak to Aaron, and say to him: When you light the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light in front of the candlestick.’ Aaron did so….”

The seven branched menorah has become the symbol of the Jewish People. Its story reaches back to ancient times, when it served as the light for the Temple, kindled every day. It later signified the defeat of the Jewish People by the Romans, evidenced by its appearance on the triumphal Arch of Titus. And it became the symbol of the reconstituted State of Israel, appearing on its seal.

            Isaac Luria taught that six branches of the Menorah represented the six “academic disciplines” recognized at his time (theology, canon law, medicine, arts, humanities, and science) and that the seventh branch was Torah, which in turn illuminates all secular knowledge.

            He informs us that Torah and secular learning are not rivals. As is stated in Etz Hayyim, each can illuminate the other. Today, there are some (particularly among the most Orthodox parts of Judaism) who reject this confluence. To my mind, they have something to learn from Pope Leo’s recent encyclical regarding artificial intelligence. Scientific (secular) achievements cannot ignore moral dictates, and those steeped in religious learning cannot ignore the secular world. Those who are most concerned with religious/moral understanding have the great responsibility of informing the secular world about the need to implement moral guardrails in secular achievements.

 

The Harmony of Shalom

 Naso

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 (the Sotah) when questioned by her jealous husband. Next, we have a discussion of the laws of Nazarites, 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. 6:22-26 “And Adonai spoke to Moses, saying: ‘Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, “This is how you will bless the children of Israel; say to them: ‘May Adonai bless you and watch over you.  May Adonai make His face shine to you and be gracious to you. May Adonai raise His face to you and give you peace.”’

This week, I turn again to Rabbi Sacks, as he expounds on the meaning of “shalom” (Rabbi Sacks Legacy, 6/11/24).

The parasha contains one of the oldest prayers in the world still in continuous use: the priestly blessings. It is followed by (with inexplicable repetitiousness) the account of the gifts brought by the princes of each tribe at the dedication of the Tabernacle, repeated no less than twelve times, since each prince brought an identical offering. Why does the Torah spend so much time describing an event that could have been stated far more briefly by naming the princes and then simply telling us generically that each brought the same described gifts?

Sacks suggests that the answer for the repetition lies in the last words immediately preceding the princely gifts: the priestly blessing, ending in shalom, peace. “Shalom” does not mean merely the absence of war or strife. It means completeness, harmony, and perfection. This is a concept of peace heavily dependent on the vision of Genesis, in which God brings order out of chaos, creating a world in which each object and life form has its place. Peace exists where each element in the system is valued as a vital part of the whole and where there is no discord between them.

The parasha, explicating the laws of the Sotah and the Nazir, displays an underlying need for restoring harmony among people, which in turn enables “shalom.” Finding such harmony in today’s world, whether in the Middle East or here in America, at present seems out of reach. We need to remember that every Jewish prayer service ends with a prayer for peace. Seeking peace is our role in Creation and is our role in the continuation of Revelation. 

Coveting

For Shabbat Shavuot

Ex. 20:14 “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house: you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor male or female slave, nor ox nor ass, nor anything that is your neighbor’s.”

          This week, Shabbat falls on the second day of Shavuot, so traditional congregations read a special Torah reading recounting the sacrifices which were made during the Shavuot Festival. On the first day of Shavuot, we re-read part of the parasha Yitro in Exodus, recounting the giving of the 10 Commandments.

            Since I find little to comment upon about the sacrifices for Shavuot, I wanted to look at the reading for the first day, specifically one of the 10 Commandments. As has been suggested by others, there is a connection between Shavuot celebrations and the 10^th commandment barring coveting. Shavuot is a time of giving (harvests, first fruits, and the Torah itself). During all of this “giving” we are cautioned not to desire what is another’s.

             We might think that “coveting” is not as important as other major “Do Nots” in the 10 Statements. Most of us are at times envious of others. Coveting can be expressed by wondering “why me” or insisting that “life is unfair.”  But why is coveting so important? It is because it has the power to destroy a community. When we covet, we blame others for what we lack. When we covet, we believe in a false justification to take wrongful actions.

On Shavuot, we can re-accept a Divine Gift, Torah. We also can accept another Divine Gift: acceptance of what we have and not coveting what we lack. As we read in Pirke Avot 4:1, “Who is rich? One who is happy with what one has.” 

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Chaos and Order

B’midbar

Num. 1:1 - 4:20

 

Précis: B’midbar is an amalgamation of the narrative of wilderness wanderings (including the stories of the spies, Korach’s rebellion, Balaam’s donkey, and the sin of Moses), sacrificial requirements, the establishment of Israel’s moving camp, and census data.

                As B’midbar (“in the wilderness”) begins, Moses is directed to take a census (“take the number”) from which the English name (Numbers) of the Book derives. A detailed listing of the numbers of each tribe follows; each tribe is apportioned to a particular location in the camp. A listing of the Levitical families then follows, together with the beginning of a discussion of their duties.                

                B’midbar, according to Rabbi Plaut, continues the narrative from Exodus (which was largely interrupted by Leviticus), and begins about a year after the liberation, covering the wandering in the desert. He notes that details are provided for only the first and last years, with the “middle” 38 left mostly to our imaginations. The focus of the Book appears to “point to this moment when Israel is poised to take possession of its inheritance.” 

 

As is so often the case, Rabbi Sacks raises an interesting question (Rabbi Sacks Legacy, 5/29/25). B'midbar resumes the story as it ended with the Book of Shemot: the people have journeyed from Egypt to Mount Sinai, received the Torah, made the Golden Calf, were forgiven after Moses’ passionate plea, and built the Mishkan.  Now, one month later, they are ready to move on to the second part of the journey, from Sinai to the Promised Land. But the narrative is curiously delayed. Ten full chapters pass until the Israelites begin traveling (Num. 10:33). There is first a census, then a long description of how the travelling camp is organized, followed by detailed descriptions of Levite roles. We even learn laws about camp ritual purity, the sotah (the woman suspected of adultery), and the Nazirite. Rabbi Sacks asks, why do we have this long series of seeming digressions?

The Torah is not history as a sequence of events but is about truths that emerge through time. The essential story of the Jewish People is the search for order in chaos. Repeatedly, God creates order and humans create chaos. Terrible consequences follow. Then God begins again. This is repeated in the Creation story, our familial ancestor stories, and in the stories of the generation of freed slaves and Revelation at Sinai, followed by the Golden Calf.

While previously the Torah showed God as a director of history and a giver of laws, the end of Shemot, the entire Book of Vayikra and the first ten chapters of B’midbar reveal God as a permanent Presence. Purity and holiness are demanded because the Divine Presence “dwells” in the middle of the camp, and whoever comes close to God must be holy and pure.

That long introduction to the next stages of the journey is all about creating a sense of order. Hence, the census, the detailed disposition of the tribes, and the lengthy account of the Levites. It is as if God were saying, “this is what order looks like.” Each person has a place within the family, the tribe, and the nation. Everyone has been counted and each person counts.

As B’midbar unfolds, we see that (once again!) the Israelites turn out to be their own worst enemy. They complain about the food. Miriam and Aaron complain about Moses. Then comes the catastrophe (the episode of the spies) in which the people, demoralized​, show that they are not ready for freedom. There is chaos in the camp, and God decides once more to start again, this time with the next generation and a new leader (Joshua).

The Jewish people kept repeating the story​.. God creates order. Humans create chaos. Bad things happen, then God and Israel begin again. Will the story never end? The central human challenge in every age is whether freedom can coexist with order.

The alternative to freedom with order is the rule of power​, when the strong do as they will and the weak suffer. That is not freedom as the Torah understands it, nor is it a recipe for love or justice. We must create a freedom that honors order, and a social order that honors human freedom. There is no other way.

Blessings and Curses

B’har- Bechukotai

Lev. 25:1 – 27:34

 

Précis: B’Har begins with a description of the Sabbatical Year and the Jubilee (Yovel) Year. In the 50th (Jubilee) Year, we are to “proclaim liberty throughout the land” and property is restored to its ancestral owners. The parasha continues with the prohibition against unlimited slavery, as well as the rules for the treatment of slaves.

Bechukotai, the final parasha in Vayikra, begins with a statement promising blessings if the People follow Adonai’s ways. But if the People disobey, terrible punishments will follow. The Book of Leviticus then concludes (as it opened) with regulations regarding the upkeep of the Sanctuary, from voluntary tithes, land gifts, firstborn redemption, and the tithes of flocks.

 

Leviticus 26:1-4,14-16 - "If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit. … But if you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments, if you reject My laws and spurn My rules…and you break My covenant… I will wreak misery upon you-consumption and fever, which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish; you shall sow your seed to no purpose, for your enemies shall eat it"

          The question of why bad things happen to good people is one which is particularly significant in Bechukotai.  Rabbi Daniel Mikelberg has written a commentary on this subject (10 Minutes of Torah, 5/27/24).

He acknowledges at the outset that there is no satisfying answer to this “fundamental question of the soul.” As with most life queries, there are questions behind this question: Am I alone in my suffering? Did I do something to warrant this pain? Do my everyday actions and intentions have worth?

Mikelberg notes that in the ancient Near East, the king would often make pronouncements like these to their subjects. But the Israelites were different: their agreement was with God rather than with a mortal ruler. In both circumstances, unexpected events could happen that required people to rely on their leaders in different ways. We see God as always present, even though we are sometimes unsatisfied with God's responses.

The theology of "blessings and curses" might have been helpful to the Israelites as they regrouped in exile and tried to make sense of their pain. They sought to gain wisdom from their past to make sure that they did not repeat earlier mistakes. Such a review reminded the Israelites that actions have consequences. Nevertheless, our world is far from perfect, and there is much that is beyond our control. Sometimes, we'll be satisfied; often, we'll be left questioning.

As we conclude the third book of the Torah, we are called to recognize that even in despair we're not alone. Our actions matter and the values of our community ensure that we stay strong.

Mishpaca

Emor

Lev. 21:1 - 24:23

 

Précis: This parasha is divided into four sections. First, it reviews procedures for the Priests to use to remain ritually pure. Second, it outlines the festival and holiday calendar. Third, it explains the use of the oil and the bread on display on the altar. Finally, there is a brief narrative about a blasphemer who is condemned to death.

 

Lev. 25:14 - "When you buy or sell to your neighbor, let no one wrong his brother."

Lev. 25:25 - "If your brother becomes impoverished and sells some of his property, his near redeemer is to come to you and redeem what his brother sold."

Lev. 25:35-36 - "If your brother is impoverished and indebted to you, you must support him; he must live with you like a foreign resident. Do not take interest or profit from him but fear your God and let your brother live with you."

Lev. 25:39 - "If your brother becomes impoverished and is sold to you, do not work him like a slave."

Rabbi Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, 5/11/23) reminds us that Judaism is more than an ethnicity, but a call to holiness. However, we cannot ignore the ethnicity we have inherited. He reminds us of a 1980’s joke about an advertising campaign in New York. Throughout the city there were giant posters with the slogan, “You have a friend at Chase Manhattan Bank.” Underneath one, an Israeli had scribbled the words, “But in Bank Leumi you have mishpacha.” We are conscious of being a single extended family.

In the cited verses, we know that “your brother” is not literal, but rather “your relative” or “your fellow Jew” (if not your fellow human being). This was a revolutionary concept in human development. Jews are not just citizens of the same nation or adherents of the same faith. We are members of the same extended family. We are descendants of Abraham and Sarah. We share the same history and memories. We are more than friends. We are mishpacha, family.

The concept of family is essential to Judaism. Consider the book of Genesis, the Torah’s starting point. It is not primarily about theology, doctrine, or dogma. The Book of Genesis is almost entirely about family, and in key parts of Torah, God defines His relationship to Israel in familial terms.

The Rabbis continued this concept when the siddur was compiled. The highlight prayer of the High Holy Days is “Avinu Malkeinu,” “Our Father, our King.” God may be sovereign, but first God is a parent. We are the extended family.

Families are created by and foster altruism, and families are essential to free societies in which familial altruism is extended to neighbors.  We cannot, of course, ignore divisions within the Jewish People. After all, divisions within families are inevitable. Some suggest that these divisions are so great that we are no longer a single composite, but Torah is filled with examples of family rivalries and divisions. Yes, a bond remains. We can argue with a friend until he or she is no longer a friend, but a brother will remain a brother, and a sister will remain a sister. Even the most dysfunctional families can eventually come back together. That is a prayer for our immediate families and for the Jewish People as a whole.

Scapegoats still

 Acharei Mot-Kedoshim

 

Lev. 16:1 -20:27

 

Précis: Acharei Mot begins with Adonai speaking to Moses after the death (acharei mot) of Aaron’s sons. It describes the rituals for Yom Kippur, including the prescribed sacrifices. There are specific details about the purification of the Sanctuary, vessels, and the priests. Following this description, rules for the slaughter of meat (including the prohibition against eating blood) are reiterated. The parasha concludes with a listing of prohibited marriages. 

            The opening words of Kedoshim are “You shall be holy” (kedoshim tihyu), and it continues with various descriptions of how the People are to strive for holiness. Included are fundamental laws, such as fearing one’s parents and observing Shabbat. Consideration of the poor through the commandments to leave the corners of fields for gleaners is included, as are mandates which complement the ethical principles of the Ten Commandments (being honest, avoiding vengeance). Specific bans against magicians, soothsaying, witchcraft and defiling the dead follow, as are reminders to avoid human sacrifice. This parasha is often viewed as the very core of moral teaching for the Jewish People.

Lev. 16:21 “And Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat and confess over him all of the iniquities of Israel, and all of their transgressions, even all their sins; and he shall put them on the head of the goat and shall send him away into the wilderness.”

            This verse is the proof text and origin for the concept of a scapegoat. It is generally defined as “a person or group made to bear the blame for others or to suffer in their place.” There are many scapegoats these days due to the partisan, racial, religious, and ethnic intolerance with which the world is plagued.

            As has been the case for thousands of years, the Jewish People are the epitome of scapegoats today. All the world’s sins are laid at the feet of Jews: we run the media (yet the media is filled with antisemitic tropes); we run the banks (yet the greatest wealth of the new billionaire robber baron class is predominately non-Jewish, and the Arab “sovereign wealth funds” can control the finances as they want); Jews maneuvered the United States into its war against Iran (and yet Trump “prohibits” Israel from bombing Hezbollah)​. 

             Israel, and Jews, are attacked from all sides. To those on the left, Zionism does not fit within the ambit of progressivism, as Israel is viewed as colonialist and the concept of a religious-oriented state is somehow inconsistent with liberal political theology (Muslim countries to the contrary). On the right, the so-called “America first” brand of Christian nationalism, increasingly common among MAGA adherents, has a difficult time accepting the “special relationship” between the US and Israel, and antisemitism is increasingly accepted among the podcast influencers ​(witness Tucker Carlson's insinuations that a Zionist cabal is responsible for Trump's failure to deliver his campaign promises).

The greatest scapegoating involves blaming all Jews for the acts of the Netanyahu government. Israel’s actions, although certainly merited in the most part, have become the basis for so-called “anti-Zionism” which is nothing less than the newest face of antisemitism. ​Both “mainstream” ​and “social” media are filled with pictures of destruction in southern Lebanon, but we never see the pictures of Hezbollah’s rockets striking Israel. No, Israel and the Jews are scapegoats for all of the world’s evils, while those protesting “Zionist colonialism and aggression” never seem to think about the horrid deaths in Sudan, the genocide by Syria against its Kurdish citizens, the slaughter of Iranian protestors by the Iranian regime, the Russian attacks on Ukrainian civilians, or the countless other outrages around the world. Only Israel and the Jews are the target.

Make no mistake: as gas prices rise because of the war with Iran, Jews will be blamed by those who accept the idea that the United States is at war with Iran for and at the behest of Israel. Antisemitic stickers are already appearing on gas pumps. The scapegoat lives. 

Purity of Life

Tazria-Metzorah

Lev. 12:1-15:33

 

Tazria begins with laws concerning the need for ritual purification of women following the birth of children and the laws of what is usually referred to as “leprosy” of the skin and on garments (although this translation is most certainly erroneous; it appears to refer to an affliction which renders the person, garment, or home ritually impure).

Metzorah discusses laws for the purification of “lepers” with sacrifice and water. It also discusses growths on walls of a house which cause ritual impurity. The parasha concludes with a discussion of bodily secretions which are another source of ritual impurity

 

Lev. 12:1-5 “The Lord ​s​poke to Moses, saying ‘Speak to the Israelites…    When a woman at childbirth bears a male she shall remain unclean seven days…she will remain in a state of blood purification for thirty-three days…If she bears a female, she shall be unclean two weeks… and shall remain in a state of blood purification for sixty-six days.’”

            This is a very uncomfortable set of rules related to childbirth, at least to modern readers. The preliminary question is why childbirth leads to impurity. The traditional explanation informs us that neither procreation nor childbirth are sinful. The “defilement” of childbirth is a natural event. Just as women become ritually impure in connection with monthly periods (and men impure with nocturnal emissions), blood associated with childbirth leads to impurity. This is at least logically connectable.

            But the next question is perhaps more difficult: why is the time doubled when the child is female? As noted in The Jewish Study Bible (p.222), “The ancients may have believed that there was a difference.” In short, we really don’t know. There is some Talmudic discussion of the issue, but I could find no clear answer. One suggestion is that the shorter time frame for a male is due to the fact that male children are circumcised on the 8^th day and immediately become part of the Jewish People. Another discussion suggests that since Eve was taken from Adam’s side, a female is somehow “less” than a male. I am not persuaded by either point of view.

            There is yet another suggestion which I find persuasive and perhaps meaningful. When a female child is born, the mother undergoes purification not only for herself but also for her daughter, who in time will herself be a source of life. This interpretation suggests that the female child is associated with a greater degree of life for which added purification is required. This in turn re​- enforces the Jewish emphasis on the importance and value of every life.

The Number Eight

 Shmini

Lev. 9:1-11:47

Précis: On the final day of the ordination ceremony, Moses instructs Aaron and his sons on the proper rituals. Aaron makes his offering. Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu offer “strange fire” before God. They are slain. Moses tells Aaron that he must not engage in normal mourning rituals. The Priests are prohibited from drinking alcohol while they are engaged in their sacred duties.  Next, God tells Moses and Aaron to instruct the people about the animals they are permitted to eat (part of the laws of kashrut). A general warning to guard against defilement and to be concerned about ritual purity is given.

 

Lev. 9:1 “And it came to pass on the eighth day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel...”

 

Rabbi Andy Gordon has written about the significance of the number 8 (10 Minutes of Torah, 4/21/25). Why was the moment of ordination set for the eighth day? If we were to select a special day, would it not be the seventh (the Shabbat, the days of creation, the days in the week, the weeks of the Omer, and Joseph’s dreams for seven years of plenty and seven years of famine)? Even today, seven is important: we recite seven blessings at a marriage ceremony, and we observe seven days of shiva. Seven is a number for reflection and competition.

But this week we start with an eighth day. While eight is an important number in Jewish tradition (the number of days before a brit milah, the eight nights of Chanukah), it pales in comparison to the number seven. Rabbi Gordon suggests that the eighth day marks the start of a new journey, marking something new. It is a day on which we return to normal everyday life, as a Sunday follows Shabbat, as newlyweds mark the start of their marriage after a traditional week of celebration, and when mourners begin to reenter life after shiva.  

In this week’s reading, the priests had taken a full week of preparation for a special day.  On the eighth day, they reentered society as religious leaders. The eighth day was the start of a new adventure, a new beginning. For us, we all have many moments in our lives when we have seven days, whether to celebrate, mourn, rest, or take comfort. But we always know that an eighth day will follow. The next day of the rest of our lives is coming. 

Take Two Tablets!

Shabbat Chol HaMoed Pesach

Ex. 34:1 “The Lord said to Moses: ‘Carve two tablets of stone like the first, and I will inscribe upon thew tablets the words that were on the first tablets, which you shattered.’”

            On the Shabbat which takes place during Passover, we omit the regular Torah reading and instead chant a section from the Book of Exodus (33:12-34:26). To set the context, Moses comes down from Mount Sinai and, seeing the Israelites dancing before the Golden Calf, shatters the Tablets on which are inscribed the Ten Commandments. He goes back up the mountain and returns 40 days later with a second set.

            As is noted in the Jewish Study Bible, God now prepares to formally restore the covenant by replacing the first set of tablets. The second set differed in that the stones were carved by a man (Moses) and then inscribed by God. The Sforno inferred from this that God did not entirely forgive the people after the matter of the Golden calf, but most commentators focus on the fact that this second set was a joint project between God and Man. Following this train of thought, the Sages inferred that the “oral Law” (which they believed had been transmitted with the written law) was the basis upon which human beings could adapt Jewish law to the needs of humanity.

            During the celebration of Passover, we have perhaps one of the most significant Rabbinic additions to Judaism: the Passover seder (which may well have been influenced by the Greek “symposia” taking place during the early Rabbinic period​).

            The second set of Tablets was a demonstration of the need for human understanding and thought about how we relate to our history, our tradition, and to God.

Sweeping up the Ashes

 Tzav

Lev. 6:1-8:36

 

Précis: The parasha begins with Adonai ordering Moses to command (“tzav”) Aaron and his sons concerning offerings. Requirements for the daily offerings, directions for the meal offerings, instructions for guilt-offerings and thanksgiving offerings are described. The parasha then describes the initial offerings of the Tabernacle made by Aaron and his sons following their consecration to priestly service by Moses.  

 

Lev. 6:3 “The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar.”

                According to these requirements, as the first order of business each morning, the priest must dress in linen clothing (which was rather pedestrian compared to his usual raiment). So garbed, he sweeps up and discards the ashes left over from the previous day’s sacrificial fires. Why does the religious leader, dressed like a commoner, undertake a function that might seem more appropriate for the janitor?

I’ve suggested before that this was a form of what we might call “holy drudgery,” meaning that any work connected to the Mikdash or Temple (and by extension our synagogues) was holy. (There is even midrash suggesting that priests fought so strenuously over the chance to undertake this duty that eventually a lottery was used to select the ash-gatherer for the day.) There is a more esoteric explanation. When the priest dons ordinary clothing and sweeps up the ashes, he cannot forget a link to ordinary people who undertake mundane tasks.

Dressed in fancy robes and seeming to appear to the “common folk” as someone closer to God than the people could lead the priests to unwarranted self-satisfaction, or even the belief that they were somehow superior to other human beings, able to act without regard to the holiness of their responsibilities. There is a lesson for the current leaders of our society.

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.