Parshat Vayishlach – To Be Both Israel and Jacob | Elohei Avoteinu

Torah: To Be Both Israel and Jacob

“Then Elohim said to him, ‘Your name is Jacob. Your name shall not always be called Jacob, but Israel shall be your name.’” (Bereshit 35:10)

Throughout the Torah, we see multiple names used for Jacob, even after God changes his name to Israel. In the parasha, “although God was about to give Jacob the additional name of Israel,” Ramban says, “God told him that he would continue to be called Jacob.” From this point on, Jacob would be referred to by both names. So which name is used when? “From that time onward, the name Jacob would be used for matters pertaining to physical and mundane matters,” says Rabbeinu Bachya (1255 – 1340), “while the name Israel would be used for matters reflecting the spiritual role of the Patriarch and his descendants.” This distinction between names is a curious one, as we know in Chassidut that the purpose of the Jew is to bring the Divine into the mundane, everyday moments. We strive to have God-consciousness in every moment. So how can we understand the different usage of names?

The distinction is not one of reality, but of perception. Just like we saw last week, Jacob exclaims “God is in this place, and I didn’t know it!”. The Divine is always present, but Jacob was so preoccupied with the goings on in his world that he forgot to open his eyes to the world around him. He couldn’t perceive God, and these very human moments are what the Torah records. All he needed to do, however, was wake up and be in the present moment, and when he did he was able to realize that the Divine was also there with him. So too here, the moments when he is called Jacob clue us into his momentary distancing from the Divine, and the instances of the name Israel show Jacob’s connectedness to the Divine that is present in every moment.

I write this from the place named after Jacob, the State of Israel. Based on the teaching above, it’s quite odd that the secular Zionist founders of the State would name it after the spiritual side of Jacob Avinu. Perhaps it’s still a rejection of the religious aspect of Judaism, repurposing Jewish spirituality as the land itself. In any rate, it can’t be neglected that the State is named after the idea of connectedness with the Divine, even in the mundane. This is the unique project of modern Israel: How do we create a society which manifests the Divine while still remaining democratic and open to people of all religions and religious backgrounds? The key cannot be in religious coercion, but from a very real consciousness of the Divine. A recognition of the Divine in every human being, in every blade of grass, in every bite we put into our mouths. This is the essence of Israel. In the coming week, may we be blessed to see the Divine revealed in our lives, and to have a consciousness of the Divine in the world around us.

Tefillah: Elohei Avoteinu

In the Amidah prayer, one way which we refer to the Divine is through the name Elohei Avoteinu, the God of our Forefathers. By grouping all the Patriarchs together before saying them separately, it begs the question, what is the common experience of the Divine that Abraham, Isaac and Jacob shared? It’s actually a different name of God, El Shaddai, Lord Almighty, which they have in common. In the stories of all three ancestors, God appears to them as El Shaddai and reaffirms the covenant with them, promising what was promised to their father. Abraham (Bereshit 17:1) is told “Walk in my ways and be blameless. I will establish My covenant between Me and you, and I will make you exceedingly numerous.” God continues to promise a multitude of children, some of them kings, along with the land of Canaan as an inheritance. As long as the people continue to circumcise their boys, the covenant will not die with Abraham but continue for all generations. Likewise, Isaac invokes the name El Shaddai (Bereshit 28:3) in his second blessing to Jacob, where Isaac is blessing Jacob to be numerous and possess the land as promised to Abraham. Finally, in our parasha (Bereshit 35:11), God appears directly to Jacob as El Shaddai, and reaffirms the blessing gave to him by his father. In all of these cases, El Shaddai is invoked to uphold the covenant and reaffirm that the covenant will last for all generations. In our connection to the Divine as Elohei Avoteinu, we are reaffirming our commitment to this covenant and asking the Divine to remember the promise made to our ancestors, that we should become numerous and inhabit the land that was promised to us.

View a PDF of this Torah.

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 Acharei Mot-Kedoshim – What Seeds Have You Planted? | The Proper Intention

Torah: What Seeds Have You Planted?

When you shall come into the Land, and you shall plant all types of food trees, you shall regard its fruits as uncircumcised (orlah); for three years they shall be uncircumcised to you, they shall not be eaten. (Vayikra 19:23)

Two years ago, before studying at the Conservative Yeshiva, I spent a week volunteering on a vineyard in the Galilee. Working there was a transformational moment for me; I felt in some small way that I was like one of the early pioneers (albeit in much better living conditions), tilling the land and helping to make my ancestral homeland bloom. I harvested the grapes, painted the new building where the grapes were stored, and took the UTV out on the Israel trail to see the beautiful sites around me. It happened that my visit coincided with Tisha B’av, our day of commemoration for many of the worst tragedies to befall the Jewish people. That afternoon, while still fasting, I got up and went to work on the land. In that moment, I felt the contrast between Jewish helplessness and Jewish power. Here I was, on the saddest day of the Jewish year, living in the Jewish state, working the land to make it blossom!

Unbeknownst to me, I was actually fulfilling the mitzvah of planting fruit trees in the land (and also, incidentally, coming into the Land willingly). On the above verse, the Or HaChayim (1696-1743, Morocco and Jerusalem) taught,

Three mitzvot are enumerated here: 1) To come into the Land [willingly], as Chazal (the Rabbis) say, ‘Anyone can force [others] to ascend to Eretz Yisrael’ (Ketubot 110b). 2) To plant all types of food trees, in order to enhance the Land. 3) To keep the laws of Orlah.

He teaches from our verse that in Eretz Yisrael, it is a mitzvah to plant trees, and not just regular trees, but trees that bear all types of foods. Like our Creator, who in the story of creation planted trees in the Garden and commanded them to sprout fruits according to their kind, we should plant in Eretz Yisrael. Indeed, Vayikra Rabbah (25:3) brings a Midrash teaching us thus.

Yehudah ben Simon began: ‘You shall follow the Lord your God’ (Devarim 13:5). Is it possible for flesh and blood to follow the Holy One Blessed be He… Rather, this means that at the beginning of creation the Holy One Blessed be He engaged in planting first, as it says, ‘The Lord God planted a garden in Eden (Bereshit 2:8). Similarly, when you enter the Land, engage in planting first, as it says, ‘When you shall come into the Land, and you shall plant’ (Vayikra 19:23).

Not only are we commanded to plant, teaches the Midrash, but in the very act of planting we are emulating the Holy Creator. Two years ago, by beginning my year harvesting grapes, I was claiming my stake in the Land and doing my part to manifest the Divine presence in this often troubled land.

As we approach Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israeli Independence Day, it is important to be grateful for the miracles that occurred and the sacrifices of many thousands who died in creating and sustaining this Jewish state of ours. However, we must also take an active role, planting anew and sowing the seeds for our own vision for what the Jewish state could be.

This Yom Ha’Atzmaut, ask yourself, what seeds have you planted? And may the Holy Blessing One bless us that we may taste of the sweet fruits that we have planted.

T’fillah: The Proper Intention

“When you sacrifice an offering of well-being to the LORD, sacrifice it so that it may be accepted on your behalf” (Vayikra 19:5).

Throughout the Talmud, there is a tension between being commanded to say the prayers and needing the proper kavannah, intention, while saying it. On the one hand, we’re commanded to say the prayers at their proper times. But if we didn’t have the proper intention, do we have to pray again?

One such example is found in Talmud Berakhot 16a (you can find the full text here). The sages are debating the Mishnah, which claims that laborers can recite the Shema while standing on precarious surfaces. The Gemara then asks, can it be true that they didn’t require kavannah, proper intention, to say the Shema? No, they resolve, the workers can only recite it when they are idle from their work, so that they can focus their hearts. Here, the Rabbis define proper intention as refraining from thoughts of physical work and to focus on the words of the prayers themselves.

On the above pasuk, Rashi comments: “From the very outset, you must slaughter the sacrifice with the intent that [it is for the purpose of causing] contentment [to God, as it were,] for your acceptance [by the Divine]. For if you think an invalidating thought regarding it, [says God,] the sacrifice will not gain your acceptance before Me.” According to Rashi, a person must intend that the sacrifice will actually be a sacrifice when it’s killed. You can’t accidentally kill an animal, and then decide you want to offer it. As we’ve established in previous weeks, prayer is based at least in part off of the sacrificial system. So it’s interesting to note that here, in sacrifice, proper intent is necessary for the sacrifice to be accepted; merely offering it is not sufficient.

Just like in sacrifice, prayer too requires proper intent, namely, to block out our mental to-do lists and to focus on the words of the prayer themselves. The Rabbis recognized that this is really tough though, so they restricted the amount of liturgy that we truly need to have full attention for to a minimum. However, the ideal is to be present for as much of our prayer as possible, both with the words of the text and our personal response to them. Start small. You can begin with the first words of the Shema or the first blessing of the Amida, and work your way up from there.

May the words of ours mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O Lord.

Parshat Vayeshev – Women of the Wall and Joseph’s Faith | Psalm 148

Parshat Vayeshev- Torah From The Holy Land

Torah: Women of the Wall and Joseph’s Faith

Last week, a bill was submitted to the Knesset floor by 16 members of Knesset that would heavily fine or even imprison women wearing tallit or tefillin, reading Torah, or blowing the shofar at the Western Wall. This doubling down of the Ultra-Orthodox parties comes after they killed an agreement to raise the status of the egalitarian Kotel to that of the main Kotel, which was made between Prime Minister Netanyahu, members of Knesset, the Women of the Wall, and the Reform and Masorti (Conservative) movements in Israel, in addition to an impressive coordinated response on behalf of the Women of the Wall and the liberal movements two months ago. The continued stripping of the right of women to wear religious garb at the Kotel has already done damage to the Jewish American – Israeli relationship, and this bill will only further it. To quote the words of Natan Sharansky, the chairman of the Jewish Agency for Israel, this bill, if passed, will have “grave consequences” for the relationship between Israel and Jews in the diaspora.

In this week’s parasha, we read two incredibly similar accounts of the disrobing of Joseph. Joseph’s “coat of many colors”, the first garment to be stripped, was given to him by his father. This haughty coat symbolized Joseph’s ever increasing ego. It was given out of Jacob’s great love for Joseph (over his brothers) and led to Joseph fantasizing (dreaming) about ruling over his brothers. While the dreams themselves may have been from God, the fact he feels the need to share them with his father and brothers further illustrates this building of ego. The increasing hatred of his brothers comes to a head when he is sent to check up on them. They strip Joseph of his cloak, ie. his dignity and ego, and throw him into a barren pit. Even in the lowest of lows, Joseph retains his faith in God. Shattered, he begins to rebuild his self image by placing the Divine at the center of his life, instead of his ego.

Joseph is sold down to Egypt, to Potiphar, a courtier of Pharaoh, and God blesses Joseph in everything he does. Potiphar puts him in charge of his household, and they both prosper. Repeatedly, Potiphar’s wife makes advances on Joseph, and every time he refuses. He knows what is right and wrong, and is adamant in his refusal. One day, when nobody is around, she succeeds in ripping his tunic off his body, and then accuses him of trying to sleep with her when he refuses her newest advance. Once again humiliated, he’s thrown into prison. Yet again, his faith remains solid. Even in the prison, he prospers, and when two of Pharaoh’s courtiers are thrown in jail with him, he responds to their request for him to interpret their dreams with “do not interpretations belong to God? Relate it to me, if you please” (Bereshit 40:8). Even in the darkness of the prison, Joseph gives credit to God for his interpretation abilities. Low and behold, the cupbearer remembers him after two years, and he is brought out to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, the rest being history. Joseph’s ascension was not a linear one, but every time he was stripped naked and embarrassed, his faith remained strong, and this faith guided him in the darkest moments until he could come out and spread light.

Today, Joseph stands out as our prime teacher. No matter how many times people seek to disrobe women at the Wall (or anywhere) or liberal Jews in Israel of their Jewishness, we can look to Joseph for guidance. There are times when we let our ego get in the way, and this causes unnecessary hatred and hardship. In these moments, we need to take responsibility, and focus on recentering our own relationship and faith in the Divine. And there are times when, of no fault of our own, we are debased and thrown into the pit. Here too, our faith and religious vision must support and guide us. Like Joseph, we can and will emerge victorious, but we need to come together now. Instead of distancing ourselves from Israel, let’s proclaim our love for the Jewish state and our desire to make it a place where all Jews can come together and worship as they please.

T’fillah: The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars (Psalm 148)

Joseph’s second dream foretells of the sun, moon, and stars, representing his parents and brothers, all turning to bow down and worship him. In Psalm 148, one of the Hallelujah Psalms we say every morning, we see these same celestial symbols, this time all praising YHVH. For a moment, let’s transport ourselves to the time of the return from the Babylonian exile, which followed the destruction of the first Temple. For years, the Jews had longed to return home and rebuild their Temple, and the time had finally come thanks to an edict from the Persian emperor Cyrus to return and rebuild the Temple. Making their way back, you could almost imagine the excitement they must have felt. Everything was falling into place, and the entire world seemed to be praising God. It’s in this context in which the Psalm is believed to have been written.

It begins with the highest of the high, the celestial beings, the sun, moon, and stars, praising God. The descension of hierarchy continues to the skies, the ground, the birds and the creepy crawlies, and finally with all types of humans singing together in praise of YHVH. Throughout the Psalm, we invoke the image of God as King receiving praise from all that it created. It’s a daily reminder that all the beauty and awe-inspiring things in the world all exist to praise their maker, including us.

Based upon this drash, last year I wrote a new melody for Psalm 148 designed to invoke this regal and joyous feeling. Take a listen!

To view this d’var in PDF form, click here.

Parshat Emor – To Live In Israel

Torah: To Live In Israel

Until the morrow of the seventh week, you shall count fifty days, and you shall offer a new meal offering to the Lord. From your dwelling places, you shall bring two loaves of bread that shall be waved. (Vayikra 23:16-17)

With the reading of Parshat Emor, we’re now into the heart of the counting of the Omer, the fifty days between Passover and Shavuot. The Sefer HaChinuch (13th Century Spain, anonymous), among others, describe this liminal time as a preparation for our receiving the Torah on Shavuot. Immediately following that commandment, our parashah commands the above, to bring two loaves of leavened bread as part of the sacrifice of Shavuot. This mitzvah could only be performed in the land of Israel, and interestingly, must be made from grains harvested in Eretz Yisrael. The Zohar explains the reason: “The two loaves symbolize the Torah, and one cannot attain a full understanding of the Torah outside the Land of Israel” (Parashat Bereshit).

Throughout my time in Israel this year, I’ve come to understand the truth in this statement. Until one has spent the year living in the land of Israel, it’s hard to understand why the Rabbis would mandate dwelling in sukkot in 30 degree weather (with snow!), why we sing “hashkediyah porachat” (the almond trees are blooming) on Tu B’shvat, or why Hanukkah is on the longest day of sunlight in the year (for our friends in the southern hemisphere). Until one has spent time in Israel, the Torah does not come alive. Here, you get a real sense of the distance our ancestors walked between Hebron and Jerusalem. You can step into mikvot from the Second Temple period that pilgrims would have cleansed in before heading to the Temple to sacrifice on chagim. You can walk Derech Avot, the road our ancestors would have traveled upon. You watch how the blooming of agriculture corresponds to our chagim. You can imagine the game of hide and seek played by David and Saul in its natural habitat. And you can see the magnitude of the supporting walls of the Temple, and can imagine just how large and imposing the Temple must have been when fully intact. To live in Israel is to walk the streets our ancestors walked on, to eat from the same soil they grew food in, and to worship Hashem in the same places. To live in the land of Israel is to realize that there’s a context to the Bible, that it’s not just a series of made up stories, but that there were real people that lived here, a real Jewish claim to the land.

While my time studying here may be coming to an end, my memories of Israel will stay with me through my prayer, divrei Torah, and, God willing, by bringing many people here to grapple with our long and complex history as a Rabbi, so that they may have their own relationship to this Land, and that they too can obtain a full understanding of the Torah.

Parshat Vayechi – Embracing the Pain || Yamin u’Smol

Parshat Vayechi- Torah From The Holy Land

Torah: Embracing the Painful

In the Torah scroll, all parshiot either begin on a new line, or with a nine letter break between the last parasha and the new one, except for parshat Vayechi. This closed spacing prompts Rashi to comment below:

למה פרשה זו סתומה, לפי שכיון שנפטר יעקב אבינו נסתמו עיניהם ולבם של ישראל מצרת השעבוד שהתחילו לשעבדם

“Why is this section closed? Because, as soon as our father Jacob passed away, the eyes and the heart of Israel were “closed” from of the pain of the servitude that they (the Egyptians) began to subjugate them to.”

This phenomenon of closing ourselves off to painful stimuli, or worse yet, refusing to see the reality in front of us by closing our eyes and hearts, is all too familiar to us as humans. This phenomena is twofold: it exists both on the outside, in the pain of others, and inside, in our own pain. Pain isn’t a pleasant feeling, whether we experience it directly or see it on the faces of those around us, so we turn away from those who are hurting, or deny the fact we hurt at all, suppressing our feelings. According to Rashi, the children of Israel shut down after Jacob’s passing and in the face of a privileged class seeking to enslave them. Paraphrasing a quote of Rav James Jacobson-Maisels, when we are closed to one emotion, we close ourselves to them all. To be open, we must open ourselves to both the pleasant and unpleasant emotions. Jacob’s sons were not able to process their own pain at the loss of their beloved father, and this numbed them from sensing the pain of enslavement that was to engulf them until it was too late.

Today, in the discourse surrounding Israel, Judea, and Samaria, this phenomena seems to be all too prevalent. While the left needs to recognize Israel’s historical right to this holy land, the right must also be willing to make compromises in the pursuit of peace. The belief that while peace is desirable, it’s not possible right now, has led to a status quo that is untenable. The terror of the early 2000s and the failure of the pullout from Gaza has understandably numbed the hearts of many Israelis, and they have closed their hearts to their closest neighbors, who, like them, have valid claims to the land and in the end will be forced to make compromises as well. In order for any lasting peace to develop, both Israelis and Palestinians must commit to opening their eyes and hearts each other. They must learn to sit in their discomfort, and learn that, as my teacher Yiscah Smith says, “we are not commanded to like other people, or go out to coffee with them, but we are commanded to love each other.” That love is a deeper love, a recognition of each person as made b’tzelem elokim, in the image of God. It’s a recognition that we all have something important that only we can bring to the world. And it’s a recognition that we all have the right to have our basic needs fulfilled. In this space, the status quo begins to move towards a status in which there is a basic respect for the rights of others. And it’s in the small steps that this recognition is demonstrated, through a real demonstrative effort to give the other basic respect that shows that we view them as a person.

Our life practice is to learn how to open ourselves in love to that which makes us uncomfortable or afraid. Not to push it away or bury it down deep, but to welcome it in and soften our resistance to those feelings. Avot de Rabbi Natan comments, “Who is a hero of heroes? One who conquers his evil inclination” but then goes on to say “and there are those who say: One who makes his enemy into his beloved” (23:10). May we be blessed in the coming week with the breaking open of our heart, so that love may pour forth, and with the courage and vision that we may be able to transform our enemies, both internal and external, into our beloved, that they may spread more love into the world.

T’fillah: Yamin u’smol – Left and Right You Shall Spread Out

At the end of our parasha, Yisrael turns to Joseph’s two sons to bless them in Joseph’s place. At this point in the Torah, it should be no surprise that he puts his right hand on Ephraim, the younger, and his left on Menasseh, the older, saying the younger will become greater and more famous than his older brother.

The imagery of yamin u’smol, right and left, is also found in the 8th stanza of Lecha Dodi, which is said on Friday night in Kabbalat Shabbat. Below, I’d like to suggest a new interpretation of the stanza.

Yamin u’smol tifrotzi – Right and left you shall break out – When we live in a place of fear and despair, such as the desolate city described in previous stanzas, we close ourselves off to the world, and in turn, close ourselves off to ourselves as well. We deny reality and create a reality that is more pleasant and comfortable. It’s when we burst out of our bubble, opening up to finally accept those surrounding us, that we can accept ourselves as well for who we really are.

V’et Adonai ta’aritzi – And to the Lord you will be in awe – When we break out of our self-centered reality, we are able to recognize the Divinity present all around us, in everyone and everything. This recognition leads us to a feeling of the awesomeness of our creation.

Al yad ish ben partzi – Through the descendant of Peretz – Read partzi not as Peretz, but as “one who breaks out from the ‘I’” (from the root prtz, break out, as seen above). In Rabbinic teaching, the redeemer will come from the lineage of Peretz. In this reading, the redeemer will come from one who has broken out of the self-centered mindset of “I”, who has sown the seeds of love by revealing the Divinity present in the world. This person, which could be any of us, may not see the redemption themself, but their descendents will merit it.

V’nism’cha v’nagila – We will rejoice and we will be glad – Only after all of this, after we open our hearts to the world around us and the seed has been sown, will we merit the joyfulness that will create a new world, a world of Shabbos, where we can sit back and say the world is tov me’od, very good.

On Friday nights, we bless our sons to be like Ephraim and Menasseh, the blessing of the right and the blessing of the left. And we recall Yisrael’s blessing to them, that they “may proliferate abundantly like fish within the land” (Bereshit 48:16). May we be blessed through the holiness of Shabbos to break out of our servitude to the ego and embrace the world around us, and let love spread right and left, multiplying like fish within the land.

View a PDF of this d’var here.

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.

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?