Parshat Shemot – The Power of Women | Elohei Avraham, Elohei Yitzchak, Elohei Ya’akov

Parshat Shemot – Torah From The Holy Land

Torah: The Power of Women

On Friday, President-Elect Donald Trump will be inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States. Both during his campaign and after his election, he has been incredibly disparaging of minorities, women, those with disabilities, and anyone who does not agree with him. That his inauguration coincides with Parshat Shemot, where a new king arises who did not know Joseph and proceeds to sow seeds of fear of minorities and immigrants, has been pointed out by more than a few commentators. However, a different story in Parshat Shemot can give us a reason to hope as we move forward.

A day after the inauguration, 200,000 women will march on Washington to “promote equal rights for women and to defend marginalized groups” (New York Times), with the goal of sending a “bold message to our new government on their first day in office, and to the world, that women’s rights are human rights,” (Women’s March website). That women are stepping up to lead a movement of equality and to push human rights for all isn’t surprising; after all, it’s the essence of Feminism. What may be surprising is the emphasis of women’s leadership in this week’s parasha.

In Shemot, there is not only one female hero, but six. The first is Yocheved, the mother of Miriam, Moses, and Aaron. She had the courage to have a child despite the death sentence for male newborns, hid Moses for three months from the Egyptians, and had the faith to put Moses in a basket in the river, hoping that someone would find him and take care of him. The second is Miriam, who took on the responsibility to watch over her brother Moses as he floated down the river, and worked out a plan with Pharoah’s daughter so that her own mother would be able to nurse Moses in the palace. The Midrash even gives her credit for convincing her father, Amram, to remarry Yocheved after they had separated for fear of giving birth to a baby boy, who would be killed. Shifrah and Puah, two midwives, were the third and fourth. Despite Pharaoh’s decree to kill all male babies, they continued to help Hebrew women give birth. When caught, they told Pharaoh that the Hebrew women were so stubborn that they gave birth before the midwives could come. As a result of their faith in God and their courage to stand up in the face of injustice, they were rewarded by God. Fifth is Zipporah, Moses’s wife, who accompanies Moses on his return to Egypt, and saves his life by decisive action to circumcise their son (Ex. 4:24-26). Six, and maybe the most incredible, is Pharaoh’s daughter, who, despite her father’s decree to kill all Hebrew boys, not only saves Moses, but brings him into the palace and raises him as her own son. All of these women, in their own way, sow the seeds for redemption and freedom in opposition to a ruler who seeks to oppress them and their voices.

While these women had no official title, they exhibited outstanding leadership qualities. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out,

“Rabbi Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron in his Responsa, Binyan Av, differentiates between formal or official authority (samchut) and actual leadership (hanhagah). There are figures who hold positions of authority – prime ministers, presidents, CEOs – who may not be leaders at all. They may have the power to force people to do what they say, but they have no followers. They excite no admiration. They inspire no emulation. And there may be leaders who hold no official position at all but who are turned to for advice and are held up as role models. They have no power but great influence.” He concludes, “Yocheved, Miriam, Shifra, Puah, Zipporah and Batya [Pharaoh’s daughter] were leaders not because of any official position they held (in the case of Batya she was a leader despite her official title as a princess of Egypt). They were leaders because they had courage and conscience. They refused to be intimidated by power or defeated by circumstance. They were the real heroes of the exodus. Their courage is still a source of inspiration today.”

Their courage is not only a source of inspiration, but also a sign of hope. The small actions of individuals standing up for human rights, equality, and freedom of speech can have an impact far greater than anyone can imagine. May their courage inspire us today and in the coming years to stand up wherever we see injustice and hatred.

T’fillah: Elohei Avraham, Elohei Yitzchak, v’Elohei Ya’akov

In the middle of this week’s parasha, Moses encounters God for the first time at the burning bush.

YHVH said: ‘Do not come closer to here, remove your shoes from your feet, for the place upon which you stand is holy ground.’ and YHVH said, ‘I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to gaze toward God. (Ex. 3:5-6)

These verses may sound familiar; the phrase ‘The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’ appears three times a day in first paragraph of the Amidah. Looking at this phrase in its biblical context, what new intentions can we bring to our own prayer?

Interestingly, we notice that Moses is the focus of this prayer, not the Patriarchs (and certainly not the Matriarchs). And it’s not Moses as the proud leader of the people, but Moses’ first interaction with God. Rabbi Elie Kaunfer, in his book Empowered Judaism, points out that “the Moses in this scene is not the leader we know from the rest of the Torah, but a reluctant shepherd who is about to receive the mission and purpose of his life: to redeem the people of Israel from Egypt and lead them to the promised land. Significantly, Moses doesn’t jump at this offer, but instead ‘hides his face.’” From this realization, he teaches, we can learn three things.

First, this is the first communication between Moses and God, the beginning of a Divine-Human relationship. We too are expected to treat our relationship with the Divine as if it’s brand new. If you think about it, how you act towards someone who you’re trying to build a friendship with is much different than an old friend. Most likely you’re much more intentional about you act and how often you’re in contact if you’re beginning a relationship. Further, he says “the Moses portrayed in this biblical scene is perhaps more akin to the modern-day worshiper who objects to this line in the first place: a person completely disconnected from Jewish heritage and alienated from a deep relationship with God.”

Second, this is not just a description, but a quote by God. Prayer is not only about talking to God, but also about hearing the messages that God gives to us. “What is the message of God’s speech?” He asks, “it is an invitation to ponder the mission of your life.”

Third, Moses’ reaction of hiding his face stands in stark contrast to our physical posture of prayer, which is standing with constrained movement. He says that this contrast “begs the questions: How is your relationship with God different if you stand before God as opposed to lying prostrate? What is that position meant to symbolize?”

By looking at the context from which our prayer is taken, we see the additional depths that can be revealed, pondered, and meditated on in our prayer practice. May we merit to hear our purpose in life, and dedicate our lives to the fulfillment of that purpose.

Sam Blustin is an alumnus of the Conservative Yeshiva (2014-2015) and a current Rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary (Class of 2020). You can view more divrei Torah at www.samblustin.com or contact Sam directly at samblustin@gmail.com.

Parshat Va’era – A Hierarchy of Needs | The Essence of YHVH

Torah: A Hierarchy of Needs

In this week’s parasha, the people of Israel struggle under the weight of their oppression, which has been made worse after Moses’ challenging of the status quo. When Moses comes to tell them of YHVH’s words of hope, they could care less. “So Moses spoke accordingly to the Children of Israel; but they did not heed Moses, because of shortness of breath and hard work” (Ex. 6:9). The people were so exhausted trying to make ends meet that Moses’ words made no impact. They were all consumed by their own situation. As Maimonides notes in the Guide For the Perplexed, “a person suffering from great hunger, thirst, heat or cold, cannot grasp an idea even if it is communicated by others, much less can he arrive at it by his own reasoning.” What Maimonides points to is a fundamental truth: Before one can arrive to great spiritual heights, their basic needs must first be met. This led Rabbi Sacks to make what for me was a shocking realization in its simplicity. He says, “If you want to improve people’s spiritual situation, first improve their physical situation.”

To see the power of this approach, one need not look further than the beginnings of the state of Israel. While living in what was then Palestine was certainly no cakewalk, the early pioneers had their basic food and shelter needs met. They lived in relative peace and security for many years with their Arab neighbors. Each person had a role in kibbutz life, and no person was above the others. Orphans from across the world came together as sisters and brothers. And after years of work, the country began to bloom. Before their very eyes the land of milk and honey came to life from the work of their very hands, and they felt tangibly that they were sowing the seeds for the rebirth of the Jewish people. The very strength of Zionism stemmed from the intense sense of purpose which addressed all of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Each step built upon the last, raising the consciousness of the people higher and higher. However, with the establishment of the State of Israel, Israel was forced into a state of survival for which it has never fully been able to move past. To be sure, there was still idealism in certain areas, but so many people even today do not have the basic security that would allow them to turn their eyes to loftier ideals and goals. We see these gaps in the rights of Bedouin in the South, in the rights and poverty of immigrants of color, in the hurdles that Israeli Arabs still have to overcome to be accepted in Israeli society, and in the high costs of housing, to name a few issues. Without addressing these issues of basic needs and rights for all citizens, the conversation around loftier ideals and the spiritual nature of the State cannot even begin.

Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev said: “Don’t worry about the state of someone else’s soul and the needs of your body. Worry about the needs of someone else’s body and the state of your own soul.” Instead of spending so much time judging others for how observant they may or may not be, let us put our energies into creating a more just and equal society for all people.

T’fillah: The Essence of YHVH

In the beginning of our parasha, God makes a huge revelation. “God spoke to Moses and said to him, “I am YHVH. I appeared to Avraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as El Shaddai, but with my Name YHVH I did not make Myself known to them” (Ex. 6:2-4). While the name YHVH has been used by the narrator previously, it was only revealed in the world last week to Moses at the burning bush, not to our Patriarchs or Matriarchs. What does this name represent?

Ramban notes that each name of God represents the trait through which Godself is revealed in the world. So Moses is not asking God’s name, but through which aspect of the Divine will it reveal itself. God answers with YHVH, saying “I will be with you in mercy as you are redeemed from Egypt”.

Aryeh Kaplan provides an alternative explanation in “Jewish Meditation: A Practical Guide”. He notes the dual nature of the name YHVH; while it’s written YHVH, its pronunciation is so holy we instead substitute a different name for God when we say it out loud: Adonai. To understand the name, we must know the essence of both names.

YHVH comes from the verb “to be”, a combination of the conjugations in the past, present, and future. Therefore, he says, when you see this name of God, think “that God ‘was, is, and will be’ – all at once. This indicates that God is utterly transcendental, higher even than the realm of time.” This represents the Divine as a principle, true everywhere, connecting everything, and would be expressed in language like “God is the loving force in the Universe”.

However, since YHVH represents the relationship of everything to everything else, we can’t actually be in a relationship with a principle itself, only a being. In order to be able to talk to the Divine, we substitute the name Adonai, my Lord, for YHVH, which represents the aspect of the Divine which is being. This God can be described not as a force, but actually the Creator of the universe.

When we see the name YHVH but pronounce it as Adonai, we address the Divine as “a Being-Principle. We see God as the Principle that gives existence to all things. Yet, at the same time, we see God as a Being, and furthermore, as a Being to whom we can relate. When we speak to God, it is as if we are communing with existence itself, but at the same time speaking to it as if it were a person.”

Which mode are you more oriented towards – treating God as a Being or Principle? What would it feel like to address God as the opposite? Or both? What situations might that theology be helpful in?

Loving at a Cost – Parshat Ki Teitzei

יח: וְזָֽכַרְתָּ֗ כִּ֣י עֶ֤בֶד הָיִ֨יתָ֙ בְּמִצְרַ֔יִם וַיִּפְדְּךָ֛ יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶ֖יךָ מִשָּׁ֑ם עַל־כֵּ֞ן אָֽנֹכִ֤י מְצַוְּךָ֙ לַֽעֲשׂ֔וֹת אֶת־הַדָּבָ֖ר הַזֶּֽה

18: You shall remember that you were a slave in Egypt, and the Lord, your God, redeemed you from there; therefore, I command you to do this thing. (Deut. 24:18)

Parshat Ki Teitzei begins with a long list of laws that we are to follow, followed by a pretty common refrain: Do this thing because that’s what God brought you out of Egypt to do. Rashi here adds something important: ‘even if you incur monetary loss in the matter.’ On a slightly different note, Rabbinic Judaism delineates two concepts: ahavat hashem (love of God), and yirat hashem (awe of God). Reb Simcha Bunim taught that first one comes to be in awe of God, which leads to doing mitzvot, which then leads to loving God. And as Reb Shlomo Carlebach said, to love God is also to love humankind. If one’s actions don’t lead to loving the other, than your not doing it right. It’s not what God wants of us. The pasuk comes to remind us that even in the midst of all of these laws, we need to keep God in mind at all moments. We constantly need to be asking “Am I becoming a more loving person?” And even if there is a cost to us, whether it’s social, family-related, or monetary, we have a responsibility to pursue love even if the cost is high to us.

Parshat Bo – The Power of Liminality | Tefillin

Torah: The Power of Liminality at Camp

This d’var was written for the weekly Ramah Wisconsin mailing. It has been changed slightly.

The summer after I graduated college, I staffed a USY Poland-Israel Israel trip for high school aged students. The experience had a profound impact on me, but more than that, it had a profound Jewish impact on the teens who went on the trip. In fact, research says that there are three main experiences which, more than any other metric, predict future involvement in Jewish life: Jewish day schools, youth trips to Israel, and you guessed it, Jewish summer camps. Particularly focusing on the later two, I asked myself, what do these experiences have in common? The answer is Jewish immersion. In these environments, Judaism is infused into every aspect of the experience. At camp, chanichim learn how to live meaningful halachic Jewish lives while living with all that modern life has to offer. This liminal space allows young Jews to step out of the pressures of their everyday lives and experience the breadth of what Jewish life can be.

Parshat Bo commences with a different type of liminal experience. It’s the coming of age for a people, where they transition from life under a physical master in Egypt to the Master of the Universe. In fact, the entire rest of the Torah documents this lengthy transition. Like camp, the desert provides an ideal environment for learning both faith and practice, removed from the demands of everyday life. In the desert, the people must rely solely on God for their sustenance and well being, the ultimate test of faith. In fact, the people come to rely so much on God that when it comes time to scout out the land of Israel, they bring back a negative report, afraid that the giants in the land will surely crush them. The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught, however, that the spies were not actually afraid of failing, but of victory. In the desert, they had everything provided for them. God was visible, present in every moment. But they knew in Eretz Canaan that they would have to live in the real world of empirical space. They would need to fight wars, plant crops, and build a society. And as a result, God’s intimate, miraculous presence would be diminished. The issue was that the spies didn’t know how to translate the immersive experience of God into everyday life. How do we translate these seminal liminal moments to lived reality?

After Pharaoh finally releases the Hebrews, they journey to Succoth and receive their first laws, among them to celebrate Passover yearly. “And you should tell your son on that day, saying, ‘It is because of this that Hashem acted on my behalf when I left Egypt.’ And it shall be for you a sign on your arm and a reminder between your eyes – so that Hashem’s Torah may be in your mouth – for with a strong hand Hashem removed you from Egypt” (Ex. 13:8-9). What does ‘because of this’ mean? Rashi asks. Because we must fulfill the mitzvot, we were brought out of Egypt. In these few words, we realize our entire purpose in life – to serve the Divine through the fulfillment of mitzvot.

To translate these liminal moments to lived reality, immersion must extend beyond the walls of camp, into the homes, schools and synagogues. Judaism must be lived, not only at Ramah, but by the very people children look up to most: their parents. We must place mitzvot front and center, showing our children not only in words, but also in action, that it’s ‘because of this that Hashem acted on my behalf when I left Egypt’. And in doing so, may we all merit the sweet taste of Torah in our mouth and on our lips.

T’fillah: Tefillin and Servitude

At the end of parshat Bo, it not once, but twice mentions that you should put a sign on your arm and a reminder between your eyes that Hashem took you out of Egypt. “And it shall be for you a sign on your arm and a reminder between your eyes – so that Hashem’s Torah may be in your mouth – for with a strong hand Hashem removed you from Egypt” (Ex. 13:9). It’s no coincidence that this passage, along with one a few verses later and the two passages from the Shema which allude to tefillin, is actually contained within the Tefillin themselves. In both passages in Bo, these signs are referred to in the context of God’s redemption of the people from Egypt. As was noted in the Torah commentary above, Rashi teaches on verse 8 that it’s in order to perform mitzvot that the Divine takes the Hebrews out of Egypt. Therefore, the daily wrapping of Tefillin is a reminder that God didn’t just bring us out of Egypt to be free, but to worship the Divine. And we do this by performing mitzvot, thereby revealing the Divine presence in the world. Rabbi Shmuel Hominer, a late 19th century Rabbi in Palestine, comments similarly in Sefer Olat Tamid on uk’shartem l’ot, and you will bind them as a sign, in the Shema. “A person should intend that they are a branded servant of the Kadosh Baruch Hu, and that they will not rebel or maintain the idea that they are a free person. Therefore, we put on our flesh a sign of the covenant (circumcision), like the way a master brands his servant to show he’s a servant. The second stamp we put on us is tefillin. And on Shabbat, there is no tefillin. The day itself is a sign.” What does it look like to serve a higher power? How might our moment to moment interactions change if we were constantly in service to the Divine?

View a PDF of this D’var here.

Directing Our Eyes, Ears, and Heart to God – Parshat Ha’azinu – Torah and Tefillah

Torah – Directing Our Eyes, Ears, and Heart to God

מו וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֲלֵהֶם֙ שִׂ֣ימוּ לְבַבְכֶ֔ם לְכָ֨ל־הַדְּבָרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָֽנֹכִ֛י מֵעִ֥יד בָּכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם

46 And he said to them, “Set your hearts to all of the words which I bear witness for you this day…

After delivering the song of Ha’azinu before the people, Moshe commands them to place on their hearts the words which have just been spoken. How does one do this? Rashi says that a person must direct their eyes, ears, and heart to the words of Torah. But Torah doesn’t only come from books, it also comes from all those around us. Do we see effect our words have on others? Do we hear the innermost longing of our soul? Can we open our hearts to love ourself and others for who we really are? This new year, let us go inside and dedicate ourselves to seeing the hidden, hearing the deep, and to commit to loving acts in every moment.

Tefillah – The Song of Ha’azinu and Az Yashir

Sung at the end of the p’sukei d’zimra service, the well know song of praise Az Yashir celebrates the Israelite crossing of the sea. Rambam however, in Hilchot Tefillah, mentions that some say the Song of Ha’azinu in place of (and some even in addition to) Az Yashir. The differences theologically in the biblical selections is striking. Az Yashir is a song of praise to the Almighty from the people, an ode to triumph. The Almighty is my strength, song, salvation, and is described as a Master of War. The Almighty’s fury comes through towards the nations who wage war against the Israelites, but shows loving-kindness towards the Israelites. The Song of Ha’azinu, conversely, describes God as a Rock, Just, Faithful, True, a Father, but throughout becomes incensed at the betrayal of it’s people, jealous, angry, murderous, and vengeful. Placed in the context of P’sukei D’zimra, the Verses of Praise, we can see why today Az Yashir won out in our fixed liturgy, and the Song of Ha’azinu was relegated to the Torah reading. While the song of Ha’azinu is a powerful reminder during this season of our need to return to Hashem, it hardly evokes the feeling of praise and grandeur sought in the morning prayer.

Parshat B’Shalach – Why Do You Cry To Me? Go Forth! | Vayar Yisrael et Mitzrayim

Torah: Why Do You Cry To Me? Go Forth!

Parshat B’Shalach focuses on the climax of the Israelite’s quest to worship their God: The splitting of the sea which allows them to escape from Pharaoh’s army, while drowning the pursuing soldiers. In this scene, the Israelites are encamped at Pi-hahiroth, Egypt behind them and the sea directly in front of them. Pharaoh’s heart is hardened, and he sends his army to bring the Israelites back to servitude. The people, trapped, begin to panic. “How could you bring us out of Egypt only to die here?!” Moses tries to comfort the people, saying “Do not fear! Stand fast and see the salvation of Hashem that He will perform for you today; for as you have seen Egypt today, you shall not see them ever again! Hashem shall make war for you, and you shall remain silent” (Ex. 14:13-14). There’s nothing to worry about, he says. Sit back, relax, have a little faith, and Hashem will fight this war for you. But as we see, this is the wrong response.

Insead, Hashem responds to Moses, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the Children of Israel and let them journey forth!” (Ex. 14:15). Stop praying to me, God says! Go and do something about your predicament, and I’ll be there to support you and make you successful. But the question remains: How are they supposed to journey forth with the sea blocking their path?

Various midrashim and the Talmud relate a version of the well know story of Nachshon. When God gave the command to go forth, the people knew they had to do something, but who would go first? They looked around, nodding to their friends, trying to convince them to go first. Suddenly, Nachshon, the head of the tribe of Judah, wades into the water. He walks until the water is up to his knees, but nothing happens. To his waist, but nothing happens. To his neck, but nothing happens. Finally, when his head is completely submerged, and his breath about to run out, the sea splits before him, and the people cross safely on dry land.

Nachshon knew what Moshe did not. Despite the formidability of the sea, Nachshon had faith in God and knew that faith requires action. It is not enough to sit back and have faith that everything will be okay. We must go out and act in the name of justice, freedom, equality, and love, no matter what the obstacle or cost. What are you waiting for? Go forth!

T’fillah: Vayar Yisrael – Breaking Free From Our Bonds

After the Israelites cross the sea, they turn back, and to their disbelief, the waters collapse, drowning the pursuing soldiers. Vayar Yisrael et Mitzrayim met al sefat hayam (Ex. 14:30). This verse is often translated: “And the Israelites saw the Egyptians dead on the banks of the sea.” However, the Rabbis teach us not to read Mitzrayim as Egyptians, but rather Egypt. What does it mean that the Israelites saw Egypt dead on the banks of the sea?

After crossing the sea, they left their mindset of servitude behind them. The forces that had kept them chained up and oppressed, that had restricted them from becoming their true and full selves, were shed at this moment. While these forces were literal servitude, we too have forces, both self-imposed and imposed upon us by society and culture, that prevent us from becoming all that were are meant to be. What forces are at play in your life? How can you break free of these bonds to experience your own splitting of the sea?

View a PDF of this week’s Torah here.

The Key To Youth and the Aleinu – Parshat V’zot Ha’brachah – Torah From the Holy Land

The Key To Youth – V’zot Ha’brachah

וּמשֶׁ֗ה בֶּן־מֵאָ֧ה וְעֶשְׂרִ֛ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּמֹת֑וֹ לֹא־כָֽהֲתָ֥ה עֵינ֖וֹ וְלֹא־נָ֥ס לֵחֹֽה: (דברים לד:ז)

Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died, yet his eyes were undimmed and his natural force unabated. (Deuteronomy 34:7)

My personal motto is to “find your passion, whatever it may be, and don’t lose it, even for one second. You never know whose life you could have changed during that time”. Passion drives every major change in society, and is a must have for any leader. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks asks about the above pasuk, “What then was the secret of the undiminished energy of his last years?… I used to think that “his eyes were undimmed” and “his natural force unabated” were simply two descriptions, until it dawned on me that the first was an explanation of the second. Why was his energy unabated? Because his eyes were undimmed. He never lost the vision and high ideals of his youth. He was as passionate at the end as he was at the beginning… The moral is clear: If you want to stay young, never compromise your ideals.” In the last year, what ideals have you given up on or compromised? What dreams have you abandoned? This new year, commit to renewing those old passions and embrace your inner youth.

You can read the entire drash by Rav Sacks here.

Tefillah: Aleinu – The Final Call

Just as V’zot Ha’brachah ends the cycle of the Torah, so too does Aleinu end our daily tefillot. And just as V’zot Ha’brachah caps a climatic and moving recap of the journey of the Israelites, reiterating the importance of worshiping the one and only Almighty, so too does Aleinu remind us of the majesty of the Crown. Rabbi Yoel Sirkes (1561-1640) in his book Bayit Chadash, a commentary on the Tur, explains: “The reason [for reciting Aleinu at the end of the service] is to ingrain in our hearts, before we leave for our houses, the unity of the kingdom of God. Thus, our faith will be strengthened, in order that we ‘remove the foreign gods from the land.’’ How many ‘foreign gods’ do we still have today? Power, money, success, acclaim, lust, and all the desires of the ego to dominate the other are still very strong temptations in our society. Aleinu gives us one last moment to refocus before going out into the world. It allows us to get our priorities in order, and helps us cultivate a sense of awe and wonder of the miraculousness of the world and life itself. So before you rush off to fold up your tallit, take a deep breath and focus one more moment on the grandeur of the Divine.

Parshat Yitro – One Love, One Heart | Shabbat Morning Kiddush

Torah: One Love, One Heart

“In the third month from the Exodus of the Children of Israel from Egypt, on this day, they arrived at the Wilderness of Sinai. They journeyed from Rephidim and arrived at the Wilderness of of Sinai and encamped in the Wilderness; and Israel encamped there, opposite the mountain” (Ex 19:1-2).

The big moment is arriving! Three months into their journey, the Israelites finally reach the foot of Mt. Sinai, and begin their preparations to receive the Torah. In the first verse, they are referred to as the “Children of Israel”, in the plural, but in the second verse, they are referred to in the singular, only as Israel. Why is this? Rashi comments that at the foot of the mountain, the people were “as one person and with one mind”. While the rest of the time, the people complained and quarreled with each other, in this moment, they united as one people.

Based upon this, Rav Sholom Brodt teaches that total ahavat Yisrael, love of Israel, is a pre-condition for receiving the Torah. This means that to fully receive the Torah that Hashem is giving us, both then and now, we must truly love every member of Israel.

When I was studying at the Conservative Yeshiva two years ago, I had the custom of busking on Ben Yehuda on Friday mornings, and the money I would earn I would give to tzedakah. More than once, I would be approached by a woman who lived in an apartment above the street, who would proceed to yell at me for playing music and disturbing her quiet. No matter what I explained, that I was there for tzedakah, that I would only be there for a short period, nothing worked, and she would inevitably threaten to call the police, despite the fact that it’s completely legal during the day. Often, I would push back for a few minutes, and then move further down the street.

One day, we were engaged in the same song and dance, but while we were talking and I was getting my things together, a man came up asking for money. I had only been going a few minutes and had only made a few shekel, so I gave him what was in my case. The woman was astounded. “He’s an Arab! Why are you giving him money?,” She protested. “Why should I not give to him?,” I responded. “The Rabbis say that ‘Kol Yisrael aravim zeh lazeh, all Israel is responsible for one another,’ not all Jews are responsible for one another. Jew, Muslim, it doesn’t matter. He’s Israeli!” I responded. And as I continued packing up, she said “It’s okay. You can stay here.” She walked away, and I didn’t see her again that year.

While the saying originally is in reference to supporting all Jews, through my own midrash, interpretation, of the text, I was able to extend love beyond my own circle, to all of ‘the people of Israel’. I realized in that moment that the power of loving one’s neighbor can overcome even the toughest and most stubborn of people. May we be blessed in the coming week with an open heart, in order that we may all receive the sweet blessing of the Torah.

T’fillah: Shabbat Morning Kiddush – Zachor et HaShabbat l’Kadsho

“Zachor et haShabbat l’kadsho” – “Remember the Sabbath to make it Holy” (Ex. 20:8)

In his Guide for the Perplexed (Vol. II, Chapter 31), the Rambam explains that the commandment to remember the Sabbath commemorates the Sabbath of creation and the holiness that the Sabbath brings into the world. We do this through the recitation of the kiddush over a cup of wine. On Friday night, we say that kiddush is “zecher l’ma’aseh bereshit,” a reminder of what was made during creation. And if we look at creation, the Torah says that “Elohim blessed the seventh day and sanctified it…” (Bereshit 2:3). Here, our Creator directly sanctified the seventh day. However, in Shabbat morning kiddush, we recite that it is we who sanctify Shabbat by remembering it! How can it be?

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, in his book The Sabbath, says that

“The meaning of the Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space. Six days a week we live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath we try to become attuned to holiness in time. It is a day on which we are called upon to share in what is eternal in time, to turn from the results of creation to the mystery of creation, from the world of creation to the creation of the world.”

When the Creator created the world, it created, as Heschel claims, a majestic palace in time. However, most of the week, we inhabit a world of space and productivity, always running from one thing to another to get things done. The blessing of Shabbat is that we can step away from the treadmill and inhabit time with others, appreciating the holiness inherent in the world. This mindset, however, requires a shift in consciousness. We must consciously enter into the realm of time, and we do this by sanctifying the day ourselves, through kiddush. As we go into Shabbat, may the Holy Blessing One bless us with an awareness of the Divine in the world and with a Shabbat filled with mystery and awe.

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Bereshit: A Primordial Light and Yotzer Or – Parshat Bereshit – Torah from the Holy Land

Torah – Bereshit: A Primordial Light

Have you ever gazed longingly at the sky on a star filled night, pondering the immensity of the universe? It’s an incredibly awe inspiring experience. Growing up, one of my favorite places to go was to the planetarium in Minneapolis, but it was shut down a number of years ago. A few months ago, I had the incredible opportunity to visit the Hayden Planetarium in New York. One thought that struck me was the brevity and smallness of human life in the universe. The light we see emitted from stars in the night sky can be light from BILLIONS of years ago, only just now reaching earth to be gazed upon. It reminded me of a Hannah Szenes quote: “There are stars whose light is visible on earth though they have long been extinct. Likewise, there are people whose brilliance continues to light the world, though they are no longer among the living. This light is particularly bright when the night is dark. They light the way for mankind.” We sit in shul today reading a text thousands of years old, that has spawned the world’s main religions and has been an inspiration for dozens of generations of Jews. And it all started with bereshit, a beginning in which light was created and separated from the darkness. It’s this light that we still feel and experience today in every interaction with our tradition. Today, as you ponder the awesomeness of the universe, ask yourself, how has my tradition been a guiding light for me? In what moments have I experienced this awesome light? And how am I going to amplify and enhance this light for the next generations?

Tefillah – Yotzer Or

In the beginning, the earth was unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep. The Creator said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. The Creator saw that the light was good, and separated the darkness from the light. In the beginning, the Creator created light, and separated the existing darkness.

In our morning prayers, however, immediately after the Barchu, we say the blessing yotzer or u’vorei choshech, oseh shalom u’voreh et hakol, Blessed are you who fashioned the light and created darkness, who makes peace and creates everything. If you look carefully, the tefillot flip the verb used to describe the creation of light, stressing that everything, even darkness, comes from the Creator. The blessing of yotzer or actually comes from Isiah 45:7, which stresses this point even more: “I form light and create darkness, I make peace and create evil-I the Lord do all these things…Shame on him who argues with his Maker, you are nothing but a pot made of earth! Shall the clay say to the potter, “What are you doing? Your work has no handles?…” (Isaiah 45:7-9). It goes on to stress that we humans are nothing but, to quote Reb Simcha Bunim, “ash and dust”. And this awareness of our own limitations and mortality is vitally important. Reb Simcha Bunim would teach that a person’s intellect leads them to an awe of their Creator, and this awe leads to humility. It’s only through humility that one can encounter God, for humility leads a person to find the Truth within. In our morning prayers, we have just cultivated a sense of awe of the Creator through the Psalms. The Yotzer Or brachah then reminds us to humble ourselves, so that we can approach the Creator with our full selves in the Amidah.

Parshat Mishpatim – Little By Little I Shall Drive Them Away | V’charot Imo Ha’Brit

Torah: Little By Little I Shall Drive Them Away

“I shall send the hornet-swarm before you and it will drive away the Hivvite, the Canaanite, and the Hittite before you. I shall not drive them away from you in a single year, let the Land become desolate and the wildlife of the field multiply against you. Little by little I shall drive them away from you, until you come fruitful and make the Land your heritage” (Ex 23:28-30)

Last week, we visited the Chicago Community Center in Lod, a site which, over the years, has been a source of friction between the different Jewish and Arab populations. Not too long ago, the Community Center had been given to the Orthodox population, who created a communal space exclusively for Jews, despite the majority (~70%) of the neighborhood being Arab Israelis. In this model, the Jews, the powerful minority, won, and the Arabs lost. But, as our guide D’ror explained, a win-lose scenario between two populations that must live together inevitably leads to a lose-lose situation. A few years ago, the new mayor recognized the need for the Center to serve all people in the neighborhood. For two years, the lower floor served for Jewish programming, and the upper floor served for Arab programming. Slowly, the floors started to become mixed, but today the classes remain separate. The goal, eventually, is that Jewish and Arab children will be able to share classes and activities together, maximizing the resources for all in a win-win situation. What they recognized, however, is they couldn’t jump to the last step immediately; the people weren’t there yet. Slowly, the walls can be lowered, and eventually, children (and their families) will be comfortable sharing space together.

There exists a fourth possibility, which we see in the verses brought above. This plan of incremental gains, expulsion and immediate settlement, makes sense as a strategy for taking over the land. Let the enemy continue to till the soil and maintain property, so that when you defeat them, you can settle seamlessly. While it may be smart military strategy, the mass expulsion of an indigenous people in order to live in their homes and till their soil (although some would claim that the land was really theirs from the start) for the sake of security, doesn’t sit well morally with me. While there are strategic locations where this might be justified, I find expulsion for entire tracts of land problematic, to say the least.

“In the Middle Ages, Saadia Gaon argued that a biblical passage should not be interpreted literally if that made a passage mean something contrary to the senses or reason (or, as we would say, science; Emunot ve-Deot, chapter 7)” (Conservative Judaism). Dr. Fritz Rothschild, former Professor of Jewish Philosophy at JTS, extends this to include morality in his assessment of Rabbinic textual interpretation. The practical implication of this is huge. If we don’t need to read Torah literally, we can search out a deeper meaning, even in morally problematic passages.

One such way of deriving deeper meaning is by viewing difficult parts of the Torah as analogy. In this case, the Hivvites, Canaanites, and Hittites are idol worshiping peoples, and the Biblical fear is that “they cause you to sin against Me, that you will worship their gods, for it will be a trap for you” (Ex. 23:33). The concern is that these people will cause the Israelites to distance themselves from the Divine presence.

In our world today, expulsion is not an option in most, if not all, cases. Therefore, we must learn how to live with each other side by side. As I saw in Lod, there are three main options: (1) We can seek to gain power over the other in our midst, ultimately resulting in a lose-lose, (2) we can split resources, staying separate but respectful, or (3) we can learn to share all resources, maximizing them to benefit everyone together. In my belief that the divine is manifested in the world through love and justice, moving from lose-lose to win-win is a moral imperative. While the verses may intimate expulsion, the deeper lesson is the opposite. We must learn how to live side by side with those different from us, and it’s only through this that we reveal the Divine in the world.

T’fillah: V’charot Imo Ha’Brit – Redemption of the Land

“You are the Lord God who chose Abram and brought him out of Ur of the Chaldees… and You made a covenant with him to give to his descendants the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Jebusites, and Girgashites. You fulfilled Your promise for You are righteous” (P’sukei D’zimra, ‘Ata hu Adonai l’vadecha’).

In our morning prayers, we recall God’s promise to Abraham to give the land of Israel to his descendants, mentioning two of the three peoples our parasha mentions as living in the land, the Canaanites and the Hittites. The Abudarham (~1340 in Seville) comments that these six nations are mentioned zecher l’maaseh bereshit, as a reminder of the creation of the world. In his typical style, the Abudarham brings biblical parallels and thoughts, while leaving it to the reader to find their own meaning. It seems to me, that just as the world was created in six days and Shabbat, there were six nations who lived in the land before the Israelites. Therefore, the Israelites are made parallel to Shabbat, tastes of the ultimate redemption of space and time, respectively. Placed in the beginning section of our prayers, where we offer praises to the Divine for wonders both natural (creation and nature) and supernatural (Exodus), the inference that the Israelite’s purpose is to make holy the land, and that this redemption is as natural as one day blending into the next, follows logically. While we may not have a moral right to exclusivity of the land of Israel today, our liturgy is an important reminder that our claim to the land is thousands of years deep, and that we have as much right as anyone to develop a national homeland in our ancestral homeland.

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