This week’s Torah portion is Terumah, which means a portion, gift, or contribution. God spoke to Moses and asked the Israelites to make a freewill offering of all the materials that would be needed to build a portable place of worship in the wilderness, as the text says, “so that I may dwell among them. (Ex. 25:8)” God then gives precise instructions for the design of the Tabernacle and its furniture, including a golden ark to house the tablets of the Ten Commandments, a golden menorah as tall as a person, a gold clad table that looked like a baker’s rack, to hold 12 special loaves of bread; and a copper altar for sacrifice, and many other items. We had been slaves in Egypt, possibly as long as 400 years.
We had built cities for the Pharaoh; but now, as pointed out by Rabbi Denise Eger in the Women’s Torah Commentary, we were being asked to embark on a different kind of building. As we constructed the Mishkan, the dwelling or the Sanctuary, we would be using the freewill gifts, ordinary building materials, and transmuting them into something holy. As Rabbi “Tarphon points out in the Talmud (Avot de Rabbi Natan 11, The Torah Revealed by AY Finkel), “You can see how highly regarded labor is, for God did not cause the Shechinah to rest upon Israel before they did work. Of course, we were building community as we were building the Tabernacle. We were building the traditions of Judaism itself, and we were taking the mundane that with our pure intentions and labor we were able to sanctify it. The Lubavitcher Rabbi, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Shneerson, wrote that, ”Man’s task is to incorporate material existence into God’s dwelling”. Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk wrote about the difference between God’s creative process our ours. He explained that God created something from nothing, which he expressed by the Kabbalistic terms Yesh, something, from Ayin, nothing. Our work is the reverse of God’s: we take yesh, the material and turn it into the spiritual. How is this done?
There is a famous commentary on Terumah by the sage Malbin, Rabbi Meir Lev ben Yeshiel Michael, from 19th Century Russia. Malbin wrote, “It says Let them make me a sanctuary that I may dwell among or in them. Each person is to build God a Tabernacle in their own heart, for God to dwell in.” We are meant to create holiness from both of these directions, from the material to the spiritual and also the spiritual to the material. Finding what some have called the God within is discovering our moral compass, our inner holiness, and a reverence for what we can create. Taking that inner guidance and applying it to the physical world completes the work. Rabbi Arthur Green has written, “God’s presence in this world depends upon the depth and sincerity of human desire.”
It is up to us to bring God’s Presence into our world. Only we can create the conditions for God to be manifested in the material world, in human life. We can work from within: from the inner to the outer, and from without: from the outer to the inner. Ideally we should work from both directions: realizing God’s Divinity within ourselves and making all our work, our words, and deeds, into a tabernacle of peace, justice and goodness. As we sang at the Song of the Sea, “This is my God and I will enshrine the Eternal. (Ex. 15:2)” When there is a Tabernacle in our hearts and in our outer lives, God can truly dwell among us.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Friday, May 3, 2013
Speaking of Holiness
This week’s Torah portion is Mishpatim, which means, ordinances, or laws, or judgments. It immediately follows the Ten Commandments but is very different in content, laying out laws for a just civil society. There are laws about slavery, negligence, the giving of charity, just compensation, and dispensing justice. Over 50 laws are given in this portion. Mishpatim ends with commandments to celebrate the holidays and a transporting vision given to Moses and the elders. Tonight I’d like to focus on the topic of speech. As you might expect, there are a number of commandments here that include prohibitions against saying things that are untrue. The Torah also prohibits agreeing with an untrue statement made by another person. One verse in the Artscroll translation reads, “Do not accept a false report.” The Etyz Chaim translation says, You must not carry false rumors. And continuing in the previous translation, the Torah says, Do not extend your hand with the wicked to be a venal witness. Do not be a follower of the majority for evil. Distance yourself from a false word. We can look at these laws in light of our speech.
Judaism has guidelines for speech that can help us to know what is expected of us. The lowest level required is not to say anything false. Of course there are times when we are permitted to say something we know is not true. We can say something untrue to avoid hurting someone’s feelings, and to avoid gossiping. The next highest level of speech is about Lashon Hara, literally, bad speech. The Talmud says: “What constitutes evil speech? … Whatsoever is said in the presence of the person concerned is not considered evil speech. …… He answered: I hold with R. Jose, for R. Jose said: I have never said a word and looked behind my back (Arachin 15b).” At this level we are asked not to say anything negative about a person even if it is true, to someone who has no need to know. Maimonides said, “Even if the statements are true, they bring about the destruction of the world (Mishneh Torah).” Our Sages said: "There are three sins for which retribution is exacted from a person in this world and, [for which] he is denied a portion in the world to come: idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, and murder. Lashon horah is equivalent to all of them." In addition, they said: "Lashon horah kills three [people], the one who speaks it, the one who listens to it, and the one about whom it is spoken. The one who listens to it [suffers] more than the one who speaks it.”
There is yet one more level of speech, the highest level. This is harder. We are asked not to say anything positive or negative about anyone to someone who has no need to know. This guideline is meant to circumscribe our conversations. It asks us to think before we speak about another: to say less than we may be used to saying, so that we do not get ourselves into trouble. This level of speech precludes most recreational speech. The Talmud also says, “What shall be one’s remedy so that he may not come to [utter] evil speech? If the person be a scholar, let him engage in the Torah, and if the person be ignorant, let him humble himself, as it is said: ‘But perverseness is a wound to the spirit.’” We are being led here into another commandment found in Mishpatim: “You shall not wrong a stranger and you shall not oppress him, for you were strangers in the Land of Egypt. You shall not persecute an orphan or widow.” These commandments seem to be not only about harming a person with less power in the society, but also about denigrating another. If we take these commandments symbolically, we can say that we are all strangers to each other. We all have a tendency to need to bolster our self esteem, but that we should not do it at the expense of others because in reality, we are part of them and they are part of us. And just because we may think, everyone is doing it, it’s an area in which most of us can find spiritual growth.
In this portion it says, “People of holiness shall you be to me.” And perhaps this is a fourth level of speech: that we use our words to create holiness. We can do so much good with our speech: bringing smiles to others, sharing our love, comforting each other, understanding one another’s needs, helping, and bringing kindness by sharing the gift of ourselves. Rabbi Gelberman wrote: “If we speak inwardly to ourselves of the joy of living of the oneness of people of our individual security and our emotional maturity our words will come forth with wisdom.” Our words reveal so much about the kind of people we are: about the quality of our intentions and our inner dialogue. If we are striving to keep our hearts open, our words will bring healing to the world. May speak truthfully and lovingly to others, speaking a little less perhaps than we have been accustomed to, but speaking with the knowledge that satisfying, rewarding relationships and also the world’s healing depends upon us.
Judaism has guidelines for speech that can help us to know what is expected of us. The lowest level required is not to say anything false. Of course there are times when we are permitted to say something we know is not true. We can say something untrue to avoid hurting someone’s feelings, and to avoid gossiping. The next highest level of speech is about Lashon Hara, literally, bad speech. The Talmud says: “What constitutes evil speech? … Whatsoever is said in the presence of the person concerned is not considered evil speech. …… He answered: I hold with R. Jose, for R. Jose said: I have never said a word and looked behind my back (Arachin 15b).” At this level we are asked not to say anything negative about a person even if it is true, to someone who has no need to know. Maimonides said, “Even if the statements are true, they bring about the destruction of the world (Mishneh Torah).” Our Sages said: "There are three sins for which retribution is exacted from a person in this world and, [for which] he is denied a portion in the world to come: idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, and murder. Lashon horah is equivalent to all of them." In addition, they said: "Lashon horah kills three [people], the one who speaks it, the one who listens to it, and the one about whom it is spoken. The one who listens to it [suffers] more than the one who speaks it.”
There is yet one more level of speech, the highest level. This is harder. We are asked not to say anything positive or negative about anyone to someone who has no need to know. This guideline is meant to circumscribe our conversations. It asks us to think before we speak about another: to say less than we may be used to saying, so that we do not get ourselves into trouble. This level of speech precludes most recreational speech. The Talmud also says, “What shall be one’s remedy so that he may not come to [utter] evil speech? If the person be a scholar, let him engage in the Torah, and if the person be ignorant, let him humble himself, as it is said: ‘But perverseness is a wound to the spirit.’” We are being led here into another commandment found in Mishpatim: “You shall not wrong a stranger and you shall not oppress him, for you were strangers in the Land of Egypt. You shall not persecute an orphan or widow.” These commandments seem to be not only about harming a person with less power in the society, but also about denigrating another. If we take these commandments symbolically, we can say that we are all strangers to each other. We all have a tendency to need to bolster our self esteem, but that we should not do it at the expense of others because in reality, we are part of them and they are part of us. And just because we may think, everyone is doing it, it’s an area in which most of us can find spiritual growth.
In this portion it says, “People of holiness shall you be to me.” And perhaps this is a fourth level of speech: that we use our words to create holiness. We can do so much good with our speech: bringing smiles to others, sharing our love, comforting each other, understanding one another’s needs, helping, and bringing kindness by sharing the gift of ourselves. Rabbi Gelberman wrote: “If we speak inwardly to ourselves of the joy of living of the oneness of people of our individual security and our emotional maturity our words will come forth with wisdom.” Our words reveal so much about the kind of people we are: about the quality of our intentions and our inner dialogue. If we are striving to keep our hearts open, our words will bring healing to the world. May speak truthfully and lovingly to others, speaking a little less perhaps than we have been accustomed to, but speaking with the knowledge that satisfying, rewarding relationships and also the world’s healing depends upon us.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Israel Grows Up
This week’s Torah portion is Yitro – named after Jethro, Moses’ Father in Law, who brings Moses’ wife Ziporah, and their two sons meet Moses and the Israelites at Mt. Sinai. Jethro advises Moses to establish a system of judges and courts. Moses takes his advice and Jethro departs. The people prepare themselves for the great and terrifying day on which God will speak to them, what we call The Revelation – the only time in human history that God’s words were heard simultaneously by a whole group of people, in which God speaks the Ten Commandments. Subsequently the people become afraid, asking Moses to speak with God and let them know what God requires of them.
In reading about these miraculous events in which God regularly speaks to Moses and then speaks to the entire Israelite people, some ask: Why is God so distant now? Why are there no prophets, no revelations? To find an answer to these questions, we can look at the Torah text itself. God says to Moses: “So shall you say to the… Children of Israel. You have seen what I did to Egypt and that I have borne you on the wings of eagles and brought you to me. And now, if you listen well to Me and observe My covenant, you shall be to me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for Mine is the entire world. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation…The entire people responded together and said, everything that God has spoken we shall do.” (Ex. 18:3-6, 8). This passage begins with the metaphor of the eagle’s wings. Like a mother eagle, God flew us out of Egypt and set us down in a safe place. God personally saved, protected, and carried us. With our arrival at Mt. Sinai, our infancy came to an end.
Now there was to be a new relationship between us and God. What happens next is a kind of adolescence. There will at first be a primary intermediary: Moses. He provides the temporal leadership and also the moral leadership; and there will be Priests, who are religious intermediaries. But there will also be rules by which we can learn to become more independent: at first the Ten Commandments, and then laws of a civil society, which we will read in next week’s Torah portion. Gradually, God plans to wean us away from direct intervention and direct communication. There is a Chassidic story from the 18th Century that describes the change in our relationship: Someone once asked the Baal Shem Tov: Why does one who ordinarily feels close to God sometimes experience a sense of remoteness from the Divine Presence? The Baal Shem said, When a parent begins to teach a baby to walk the parent steadies the child with both hands …..Then bit by bit the parent moves away, holding out both arms, so that the child can take hesitant and later confident steps toward the parent. God may seem to move away from us sometimes, but perhaps only to help us grow by helping us to take steps toward God on our own.(adapted from Gates of Repentance)
The text from Yitro lays out a plan to take the place of prophecy and Direct communication. It is a plan by which we can outgrow our total dependence on our Divine Parent and gradually grow into religious adults. By allowing each person to hear the 10 Commandments, there was a leveling of access to God. Judaism was never a mystery religion in which the Priests had special, esoteric knowledge that the rest of the nation did not possess. The prophet Isaiah said, 45:19-20. I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth; I do not say to the seed of Jacob, Seek me in vain; I, the Eternal, speak righteousness, I declare things that are right. Assemble yourselves and come; draw near together…” The laws and commandments provide equal access to God and a means by which to draw near. The last Prophets in Judaism, Ezra and Nehemiah. lived more than 400 years before the common era. The priesthood was swept away in the year 70 CE by the Romans’ destruction of the Second Temple.
After the year 70, we began to be able to realize the last part of God’s plan: you shall be to me a kingdom of Priests, a holy nation,” which apparently God desired all along: a religion which needs no intermediaries; in which each person is her or his own priest. The program which led from our dependence in Egypt to a growing independence of choice and action is still proceeding today. One of the later Chassidic masters said, “people are becoming more religious on the inside.” We are moving in the direction of becoming a nation of priests and a holy nation. This is our task: to become more and more religiously independent, taking more of our own spiritual growth to the next level by growing in our spiritual awareness so that we can bind ourselves to the guidance and wisdom that is available to us, through our connection to the Divine Presence. We are never alone and without guidance. It’s just that our guidance comes in other forms: in events and subtle messages that help us to choose what is good. We are still walking the path away from God that circles right back to God: a part of the original plan. When we observe the 10 commandments we participate in our growth into more spiritual beings. We become more spiritual on the inside, given the dignity of being true partners with Divinity. May we embrace the progress that has been laid out for us, choosing independence and reaching out for the guidance that we are being sent.
In reading about these miraculous events in which God regularly speaks to Moses and then speaks to the entire Israelite people, some ask: Why is God so distant now? Why are there no prophets, no revelations? To find an answer to these questions, we can look at the Torah text itself. God says to Moses: “So shall you say to the… Children of Israel. You have seen what I did to Egypt and that I have borne you on the wings of eagles and brought you to me. And now, if you listen well to Me and observe My covenant, you shall be to me the most beloved treasure of all peoples, for Mine is the entire world. You shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation…The entire people responded together and said, everything that God has spoken we shall do.” (Ex. 18:3-6, 8). This passage begins with the metaphor of the eagle’s wings. Like a mother eagle, God flew us out of Egypt and set us down in a safe place. God personally saved, protected, and carried us. With our arrival at Mt. Sinai, our infancy came to an end.
Now there was to be a new relationship between us and God. What happens next is a kind of adolescence. There will at first be a primary intermediary: Moses. He provides the temporal leadership and also the moral leadership; and there will be Priests, who are religious intermediaries. But there will also be rules by which we can learn to become more independent: at first the Ten Commandments, and then laws of a civil society, which we will read in next week’s Torah portion. Gradually, God plans to wean us away from direct intervention and direct communication. There is a Chassidic story from the 18th Century that describes the change in our relationship: Someone once asked the Baal Shem Tov: Why does one who ordinarily feels close to God sometimes experience a sense of remoteness from the Divine Presence? The Baal Shem said, When a parent begins to teach a baby to walk the parent steadies the child with both hands …..Then bit by bit the parent moves away, holding out both arms, so that the child can take hesitant and later confident steps toward the parent. God may seem to move away from us sometimes, but perhaps only to help us grow by helping us to take steps toward God on our own.(adapted from Gates of Repentance)
The text from Yitro lays out a plan to take the place of prophecy and Direct communication. It is a plan by which we can outgrow our total dependence on our Divine Parent and gradually grow into religious adults. By allowing each person to hear the 10 Commandments, there was a leveling of access to God. Judaism was never a mystery religion in which the Priests had special, esoteric knowledge that the rest of the nation did not possess. The prophet Isaiah said, 45:19-20. I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth; I do not say to the seed of Jacob, Seek me in vain; I, the Eternal, speak righteousness, I declare things that are right. Assemble yourselves and come; draw near together…” The laws and commandments provide equal access to God and a means by which to draw near. The last Prophets in Judaism, Ezra and Nehemiah. lived more than 400 years before the common era. The priesthood was swept away in the year 70 CE by the Romans’ destruction of the Second Temple.
After the year 70, we began to be able to realize the last part of God’s plan: you shall be to me a kingdom of Priests, a holy nation,” which apparently God desired all along: a religion which needs no intermediaries; in which each person is her or his own priest. The program which led from our dependence in Egypt to a growing independence of choice and action is still proceeding today. One of the later Chassidic masters said, “people are becoming more religious on the inside.” We are moving in the direction of becoming a nation of priests and a holy nation. This is our task: to become more and more religiously independent, taking more of our own spiritual growth to the next level by growing in our spiritual awareness so that we can bind ourselves to the guidance and wisdom that is available to us, through our connection to the Divine Presence. We are never alone and without guidance. It’s just that our guidance comes in other forms: in events and subtle messages that help us to choose what is good. We are still walking the path away from God that circles right back to God: a part of the original plan. When we observe the 10 commandments we participate in our growth into more spiritual beings. We become more spiritual on the inside, given the dignity of being true partners with Divinity. May we embrace the progress that has been laid out for us, choosing independence and reaching out for the guidance that we are being sent.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Finding the Hidden Light
This week’s Torah portion is Va’eira, which means and He appeared. God speaks to Moses about the meaning of God’s name, which is a form of the verb To Be, meaning, Being, Existence, and: future, past, and present. God makes five promises to Moses, describing a marvelous redemption. God commands Moses to speak to Pharaoh and command Pharaoh regarding the Israelites’ release, saying that God will harden Pharaoh’s heart. Then the Portion describes the inter-action between Moses and Pharaoh through the first seven plagues. At the outset of this portion, God tells Moses that God will make Pharaoh’s heart strong, so that all the signs and wonders, what we call the ten plagues, will be manifested to show the Egyptians and the Israelites that there is one God, and not many.
God uses the word Aksheh for hardening of the heart. But then this word is not used again. The hardening of the heart is mentioned ten more times in this portion. Five times the word Chazak is used, the same word we say when we finish a book of the torah, Chazak. And five times the word caveyd is used. This word caveyd usually means heavy, which opens for us a psychological interpretation of the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart. God first uses this word. The text says, Pharaoh made his heart heavy. Then it says that each time Pharaoh made his heart heavy, it became strong or strengthened. In our language, the opposite of heavy is light and the opposite of hard is soft.
We would all like to be lighthearted and softhearted rather than heavy hearted: not miserable but happy. This portion tells us that there is so much that we can do within ourselves to promote our happiness. I once read an article in the health section of the NY Times that cited research to the effect that each of us seems to have a set point of emotional equilibrium to which we usually return. Some of us are lighthearted and optimistic by nature. Some of us are worriers and more pessimistic. The events of our lives may nudge us into the other camp for a while, but then we tend to return to our habitual world view. The Torah seems to be telling us that Pharaoh inflicted his worrying and his unhappiness on himself and those around him.
We know this to be psychologically true. Usually people who are mean and difficult are unhappy. Pharaoh’s own inner darkness made others miserable and prevented him from seeing the light that was available to him. In Proverbs, King Solomon says, for the commandment is a lamp and the Torah is light. One meaning of this verse is that it is only through the guidance of the Torah that we can understand life. Pharaoh had Moses, Aaron, and the ten plagues to show him what was real and what was illusion.
We need Torah to be able to see reality clearly; life as it truly is, and not how it appears. The S’fat Emet wrote, “All the Patriarchs’ efforts were for the sake of the Children of Israel. The Patriarchs went into all the hidden places within nature, struggling until…they found the light of holiness…It is by sanctifying oneself in this worldly matters that you attain some bit of understanding.” This light, this power, this understanding is available to us. May we seek it with light and loving hearts, keeping our hearts open to each other, cultivating our happiness by finding the good in life, and may the joy of the Sabbath help us to find our own hidden light.
God uses the word Aksheh for hardening of the heart. But then this word is not used again. The hardening of the heart is mentioned ten more times in this portion. Five times the word Chazak is used, the same word we say when we finish a book of the torah, Chazak. And five times the word caveyd is used. This word caveyd usually means heavy, which opens for us a psychological interpretation of the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart. God first uses this word. The text says, Pharaoh made his heart heavy. Then it says that each time Pharaoh made his heart heavy, it became strong or strengthened. In our language, the opposite of heavy is light and the opposite of hard is soft.
We would all like to be lighthearted and softhearted rather than heavy hearted: not miserable but happy. This portion tells us that there is so much that we can do within ourselves to promote our happiness. I once read an article in the health section of the NY Times that cited research to the effect that each of us seems to have a set point of emotional equilibrium to which we usually return. Some of us are lighthearted and optimistic by nature. Some of us are worriers and more pessimistic. The events of our lives may nudge us into the other camp for a while, but then we tend to return to our habitual world view. The Torah seems to be telling us that Pharaoh inflicted his worrying and his unhappiness on himself and those around him.
We know this to be psychologically true. Usually people who are mean and difficult are unhappy. Pharaoh’s own inner darkness made others miserable and prevented him from seeing the light that was available to him. In Proverbs, King Solomon says, for the commandment is a lamp and the Torah is light. One meaning of this verse is that it is only through the guidance of the Torah that we can understand life. Pharaoh had Moses, Aaron, and the ten plagues to show him what was real and what was illusion.
We need Torah to be able to see reality clearly; life as it truly is, and not how it appears. The S’fat Emet wrote, “All the Patriarchs’ efforts were for the sake of the Children of Israel. The Patriarchs went into all the hidden places within nature, struggling until…they found the light of holiness…It is by sanctifying oneself in this worldly matters that you attain some bit of understanding.” This light, this power, this understanding is available to us. May we seek it with light and loving hearts, keeping our hearts open to each other, cultivating our happiness by finding the good in life, and may the joy of the Sabbath help us to find our own hidden light.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Our Treaty With God
This week’s Torah portion, the first portion in the Book of Exodus, is Shemot, which means, Names. It is about the enslavement of the Israelites in Egypt, Pharaoh’s decree to drown every male Israelite baby, the birth of Moses, his exile in Midian; his call by God at the burning bush and his eventual return to Egypt to carry out God’s plan for him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.
As Moses, his wife Zipporah, and their two sons are traveling to Egypt to confront Pharaoh, there is a puzzling section which reads: “When he was on the way at the inn, God encountered him, and sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and touched it to his feet, and she said, ‘a bridegroom of blood are you to me.’ So He loosened his hold on him; then she said, A bridegroom of blood you are, because of the circumcision” (Ex. 4:24-26). It is puzzling because we don’t really know who God wanted to kill and what exactly happened: whether Moses became ill or had an accident. We do know that Moses was not eager to shoulder the task of returning to Egypt to secure the Israelites’ release.
He finds five excuses as he answers God, so as not to have to accept the challenge. First he is excessively and perhaps evasively humble; next he asks who he should say is sending him; then he maintains that the Israelites will not believe him; then he says he is not a good speaker; and finally he grudgingly gives in without much enthusiasm and possibly a little bit of attitude. No wonder God was displeased. Moses and Zipporah show radically different orientations toward doing the right thing. Whereas Moses is hesitant, Zipporah is decisive. The Talmud says that Zipporah was “distinguished by her deeds” (Moed Katan 16b). In fact, all of the six women in this portion are decisive. The midwives, Shifrah and Puah refuse to kill Israelite baby boys, in the first recorded act of civil disobedience. Yocheved, Moses’ mother, puts Moses in a basket among the reeds of the River. Pharaoh’s daughter saves Moses. Young Miriam courageously steps forward to help the Princess and her baby brother.
It is interesting that circumcision is the mechanism by which Moses’ life and mission are restored. The Talmud comments in another place, “Great is circumcision, for it counterbalances all the [other] precepts of the Torah, as it is written, For after the tenor of these words I have made a covenant with you and with Israel” (Nedarim 32a). The midrash also says, …she recognized the great protective power of circumcision, … She said: ‘How great is the power of circumcision! My husband was deserving of death for having been tardy in the performance of the command of circumcision, and but for that he would not have been saved.’ (Shemot Rabba V:8)
If we think about what circumcision is really all about, perhaps this section can become a little clearer. Circumcision is not about the act itself; it’s only the sign of the bond between God and each parent who circumcises a child. Later it is the sign of the bond between the child and God as well. When God commanded Abraham to become circumcised, it was about mutual acceptance and mutual responsibility. In another telling passage, after the giving of the Ten Commandments later in Exodus, the Torah says “And Moses took the blood, and sprinkled it on the people, and said, Behold the blood of the covenant, which the Lord has made with you concerning all these words”(Ex. 24: 8). Hence there is an ancient tradition of using blood to make a treaty; and circumcision is a treaty.
Zipporah evidently understood that she needed to reestablish the bond between God and Moses. She describes Moses as a bridegroom of blood: that the bond between God and Moses is as strong as their marriage bond. So what can we take away from this story? Perhaps it is telling us what not to do. Excessive humility or perhaps false humility is not helpful. Reluctance is a hindrance to right action. Laziness is a poor excuse to avoid making correct choices. If we are asked to help, we can’t turn away as if it’s not our problem. We are asked to be willing to serve, to do the right thing. Zipporah knew that after the circumcision she would have to share her husband with God and God’s mission. She would also be sharing him with all the Israelites. And perhaps this is another teaching: that every relationship is a triad. God is present in every human interaction, showing us what is right. God wanted Moses to say “Hineni”: here I am, ready to serve. As in a marriage, God wanted Moses’ mind and heart. This covenant includes us too and demands no less. God wants our minds and willing, open hearts. God needs our contributions and our labor in working for and helping each other. We are dignified by these tasks and finally, honored by God, in giving to us this sacred bond with Divinity.
As Moses, his wife Zipporah, and their two sons are traveling to Egypt to confront Pharaoh, there is a puzzling section which reads: “When he was on the way at the inn, God encountered him, and sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and touched it to his feet, and she said, ‘a bridegroom of blood are you to me.’ So He loosened his hold on him; then she said, A bridegroom of blood you are, because of the circumcision” (Ex. 4:24-26). It is puzzling because we don’t really know who God wanted to kill and what exactly happened: whether Moses became ill or had an accident. We do know that Moses was not eager to shoulder the task of returning to Egypt to secure the Israelites’ release.
He finds five excuses as he answers God, so as not to have to accept the challenge. First he is excessively and perhaps evasively humble; next he asks who he should say is sending him; then he maintains that the Israelites will not believe him; then he says he is not a good speaker; and finally he grudgingly gives in without much enthusiasm and possibly a little bit of attitude. No wonder God was displeased. Moses and Zipporah show radically different orientations toward doing the right thing. Whereas Moses is hesitant, Zipporah is decisive. The Talmud says that Zipporah was “distinguished by her deeds” (Moed Katan 16b). In fact, all of the six women in this portion are decisive. The midwives, Shifrah and Puah refuse to kill Israelite baby boys, in the first recorded act of civil disobedience. Yocheved, Moses’ mother, puts Moses in a basket among the reeds of the River. Pharaoh’s daughter saves Moses. Young Miriam courageously steps forward to help the Princess and her baby brother.
It is interesting that circumcision is the mechanism by which Moses’ life and mission are restored. The Talmud comments in another place, “Great is circumcision, for it counterbalances all the [other] precepts of the Torah, as it is written, For after the tenor of these words I have made a covenant with you and with Israel” (Nedarim 32a). The midrash also says, …she recognized the great protective power of circumcision, … She said: ‘How great is the power of circumcision! My husband was deserving of death for having been tardy in the performance of the command of circumcision, and but for that he would not have been saved.’ (Shemot Rabba V:8)
If we think about what circumcision is really all about, perhaps this section can become a little clearer. Circumcision is not about the act itself; it’s only the sign of the bond between God and each parent who circumcises a child. Later it is the sign of the bond between the child and God as well. When God commanded Abraham to become circumcised, it was about mutual acceptance and mutual responsibility. In another telling passage, after the giving of the Ten Commandments later in Exodus, the Torah says “And Moses took the blood, and sprinkled it on the people, and said, Behold the blood of the covenant, which the Lord has made with you concerning all these words”(Ex. 24: 8). Hence there is an ancient tradition of using blood to make a treaty; and circumcision is a treaty.
Zipporah evidently understood that she needed to reestablish the bond between God and Moses. She describes Moses as a bridegroom of blood: that the bond between God and Moses is as strong as their marriage bond. So what can we take away from this story? Perhaps it is telling us what not to do. Excessive humility or perhaps false humility is not helpful. Reluctance is a hindrance to right action. Laziness is a poor excuse to avoid making correct choices. If we are asked to help, we can’t turn away as if it’s not our problem. We are asked to be willing to serve, to do the right thing. Zipporah knew that after the circumcision she would have to share her husband with God and God’s mission. She would also be sharing him with all the Israelites. And perhaps this is another teaching: that every relationship is a triad. God is present in every human interaction, showing us what is right. God wanted Moses to say “Hineni”: here I am, ready to serve. As in a marriage, God wanted Moses’ mind and heart. This covenant includes us too and demands no less. God wants our minds and willing, open hearts. God needs our contributions and our labor in working for and helping each other. We are dignified by these tasks and finally, honored by God, in giving to us this sacred bond with Divinity.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Our Family Tradition
This week’s Torah portion is Vayechi, which means, and he lived. Jacob is about to die. He calls his son Joseph, Viceroy of Egypt, to give him final instructions about Jacob’s burial in Canaan. He adopts Joseph’s sons, Menashe and Ephraim, as his own. Later, just before he passes away, he blesses each of his 12 sons and dies quietly and peacefully, a very good death. His sons bury him and then become worried that Joseph will seek revenge for their plans to sell him over 30 years ago. Joseph forgives them completely. Later, as Joseph dies, the book of Genesis comes to a close.
The section of this portion I’d like to consider tonight is toward the beginning, where Jacob has called Joseph to speak with him. The Torah reads: “Jacob said to Joseph, El Shaddai had appeared to me in Luz in the land of Canaan and God blessed me. God said to me, Behold, I will make you fruitful and numerous and I will make you a congregation of peoples, and I will give this land to your offspring after you as an eternal holding.”(Gen. 48:3-4) In the next verse, Jacob adopts Joseph’s sons. Why is Jacob speaking to Joseph about God appearing to him? What relevance does it have to the adoption?
To answer these questions, it’s interesting to speculate about the stories told in this family. God appeared to Abraham at least six times; to Sarah and to Rebecca at least once; to Isaac more than once; and to Jacob at least twice, and perhaps four times. There was a family tradition that a personal relationship between God and man could be a normal, or at least a periodic, occurrence. Were these experiences regularly spoken about within the family? I imagine they were. What might God have wanted the members of this very special family to internalize from these stories? When Jacob speaks to Joseph, perhaps one thing Jacob wanted Joseph to do was to carry forward the personal relationship between God and human beings into the next generation of his family.
This possibility of a close relationship with God is something that we need the Torah to inform us of. Without the Torah, this possibly might not be known. We might also ask: what kind of person might Jacob have been without God’s direct and personal intervention? He began life as a manipulative person, not content with what he had, but wanting what others possessed. He had a lack of integrity and ran away from conflicts. After God’s guidance: the dream of the ladder reaching to heaven, the 20 years spent learning patience and much else from Laban’s negative example, the wrestling match with the angel; Jacob emerges as someone with great personal integrity, who faces up to confrontations; one who forgives and is grateful for what he has, valuing all his personal relationships and having learned from his and his family‘s mistakes. His closeness to God was vital to his becoming the Patriarch we revere and from whom we are descended.
There are teachings here for us as well. Like Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca and Jacob; like Moses and all the many prophets, many more than 20, like the Baal Shem Tov and many of the Rebbes who came after him in the 18th & 19th Centuries – this personal relationship with God is available to each of us. And further: God cares about each of us as God cared about Jacob. Our development, like his, is being directed, so that we can continue to grow in goodness, as he did. Jacob says to Joseph earlier in the portion: “do kindness and truth, chesed v’emet, with me.” These are our two main subject areas: kindness and truth.
Our Divine Teacher, our Divine Parent cares about us passionately; directs our studies and desires us to be in this personal relationship with God, as Moses says in Deuteronomy, for our benefit. As the secular year draws to a close and the new year begins, may we strengthen this relationship with God by applying ourselves to the study of these subjects, knowing that Goodness is working with us, as Rabbi Gelberman once wrote, on our behalf, to bring about a better us, a better year, and a better world. This is what Jacob wanted Joseph to remember and to actualize. This is our task too: to bring forth and maintain our closeness to God, which is after all, not only our birthright, but our family tradition.
The section of this portion I’d like to consider tonight is toward the beginning, where Jacob has called Joseph to speak with him. The Torah reads: “Jacob said to Joseph, El Shaddai had appeared to me in Luz in the land of Canaan and God blessed me. God said to me, Behold, I will make you fruitful and numerous and I will make you a congregation of peoples, and I will give this land to your offspring after you as an eternal holding.”(Gen. 48:3-4) In the next verse, Jacob adopts Joseph’s sons. Why is Jacob speaking to Joseph about God appearing to him? What relevance does it have to the adoption?
To answer these questions, it’s interesting to speculate about the stories told in this family. God appeared to Abraham at least six times; to Sarah and to Rebecca at least once; to Isaac more than once; and to Jacob at least twice, and perhaps four times. There was a family tradition that a personal relationship between God and man could be a normal, or at least a periodic, occurrence. Were these experiences regularly spoken about within the family? I imagine they were. What might God have wanted the members of this very special family to internalize from these stories? When Jacob speaks to Joseph, perhaps one thing Jacob wanted Joseph to do was to carry forward the personal relationship between God and human beings into the next generation of his family.
This possibility of a close relationship with God is something that we need the Torah to inform us of. Without the Torah, this possibly might not be known. We might also ask: what kind of person might Jacob have been without God’s direct and personal intervention? He began life as a manipulative person, not content with what he had, but wanting what others possessed. He had a lack of integrity and ran away from conflicts. After God’s guidance: the dream of the ladder reaching to heaven, the 20 years spent learning patience and much else from Laban’s negative example, the wrestling match with the angel; Jacob emerges as someone with great personal integrity, who faces up to confrontations; one who forgives and is grateful for what he has, valuing all his personal relationships and having learned from his and his family‘s mistakes. His closeness to God was vital to his becoming the Patriarch we revere and from whom we are descended.
There are teachings here for us as well. Like Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca and Jacob; like Moses and all the many prophets, many more than 20, like the Baal Shem Tov and many of the Rebbes who came after him in the 18th & 19th Centuries – this personal relationship with God is available to each of us. And further: God cares about each of us as God cared about Jacob. Our development, like his, is being directed, so that we can continue to grow in goodness, as he did. Jacob says to Joseph earlier in the portion: “do kindness and truth, chesed v’emet, with me.” These are our two main subject areas: kindness and truth.
Our Divine Teacher, our Divine Parent cares about us passionately; directs our studies and desires us to be in this personal relationship with God, as Moses says in Deuteronomy, for our benefit. As the secular year draws to a close and the new year begins, may we strengthen this relationship with God by applying ourselves to the study of these subjects, knowing that Goodness is working with us, as Rabbi Gelberman once wrote, on our behalf, to bring about a better us, a better year, and a better world. This is what Jacob wanted Joseph to remember and to actualize. This is our task too: to bring forth and maintain our closeness to God, which is after all, not only our birthright, but our family tradition.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Drawing Down the Light
This week’s Torah portion is Vayigash, which means, “and he approached.” Joseph, viceroy of Egypt, had framed Benjamin, his youngest brother, in order to take him into custody and find out whether his brothers would abandon Benjamin, as they once abandoned him. As this portion opens, Judah, the fourth brother, who had promised their Father, Jacob, to return Benjamin unharmed, comes forward to plead for Benjamin’s freedom. When Joseph learns that his brothers love and support Benjamin, Joseph reveals his identity to them and forgives them. He then arranges to bring his father and his brothers’ families to Egypt so that they will be sustained during the continuing famine.
Judah’s speech to the Viceroy Joseph is said to be one of the most eloquent orations in the Torah. Judah begins by recounting the story of how they came to be in Egypt, standing before Joseph. Judah uses the word, father, 14 times in 17 verses, to arouse his pity. Joseph appears to be unmoved through much of the speech. Judah tells Joseph that their father would be devastated by the loss of Benjamin, the youngest son and Joseph’s only full brother, the only brother who was not a part of putting Joseph into the pit and planning to sell him. It is not until Judah pleads with Joseph to imprison him in Benjamin’s place, saying “Now therefore, I beg you, let your servant remain instead of the lad to be a slave to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brothers. For how shall I go up to my father, if the lad is not with me, lest I see the evil that shall befall my father.”(Gen 44: 33-4). Only then Joseph cries out and reveals himself to his brothers.
It was Judah’s compassion for his father and his being willing to suffer for the well being of his father and brother that moved Joseph so greatly. Judah’s act of nobility, his compassion, showed how much he had changed. In the book, Messengers of God, Elie Wiesel says: “One is not born a tzaddik. One must strive to become one, and having become a tzaddik, one must strive to remain one (P. 67-8). Judah had changed so greatly from the young man whose idea it was to sell Joseph. After experiencing the death of his wife and two eldest sons he almost had his daughter-in-Law, the pregnant Tamar burned, she who carried his own two additional children. His confession that he had not kept his promise to Tamar; his grief at his enormous losses, changed him into the man who stood before Joseph, able to sacrifice himself for his father and brother. Joseph, too, had changed so greatly, from the callous teenager who tattled on his big brothers, to the person who needs and wants his family and is willing to forgive them completely.
The Midrash quotes Proverbs, “Counsel is like deep water in the human heart. The wise one draws it forth (20:5).” The S’fat Emet speaks of drawing water as drawing new light from the heavenly root. This is our task: in uncertain times there is a deep well of wisdom that is available to us, working on our behalf if we, like Judah and Joseph, are able to draw the light from its heavenly root. Judah says in his speech, “If your youngest brother does not come down with you, you will not see my face again (43:5).” The Berdichever Rebbe interpreted this as: if you are not concerned for your brother, (understood as our neighbor), all our brothers and sisters, all those who we can have compassion for, we will not see God’s face.
There is a lovely story from the Talmud about a tzaddik: R. Abba was one day sitting at the gate of Lydda when he saw a man come and seat himself on a ledge overhanging the ground. Being weary from traveling, he fell asleep. R. Abba saw a snake glide up towards the man, but, before it reached him, a branch fell from a tree and killed it. The man then woke up, and catching sight of the snake in front of him stood up; and no sooner had he done so than the ledge gave way, and crashed into the hollow beneath it. R. Abba then approached him and said: ‘Tell me, what have you done that God should perform two miracles for you?’ The man replied: ‘Never did anyone do an injury to me but that I made peace with him and forgave him. Moreover, if I could not make peace with him, I did not retire to rest before I forgave him together with all those who vexed me; nor was I at any time concerned about the evil the man did me; nay more, from that day onward I exerted myself to show kindness to such a man.’ Tears came to R. Abba’s eyes and he said: ‘This man's deeds excel even those of Joseph; for Joseph showed forbearance towards his own brethren, upon whom it was natural for him to have compassion; but this man did more, and it was thus befitting that the Holy One should work for him one miracle upon another (Zohar I:201b).
Our caring, our compassion for each other is priceless in the Universe, priceless to God. Our forgiveness is crucial to our growth and our own being forgiven. May we strive to find that center of caring and compassion in ourselves that draws down the light and love and compassion of the world. May we become greater than we are, more blessed than we can imagine.
Judah’s speech to the Viceroy Joseph is said to be one of the most eloquent orations in the Torah. Judah begins by recounting the story of how they came to be in Egypt, standing before Joseph. Judah uses the word, father, 14 times in 17 verses, to arouse his pity. Joseph appears to be unmoved through much of the speech. Judah tells Joseph that their father would be devastated by the loss of Benjamin, the youngest son and Joseph’s only full brother, the only brother who was not a part of putting Joseph into the pit and planning to sell him. It is not until Judah pleads with Joseph to imprison him in Benjamin’s place, saying “Now therefore, I beg you, let your servant remain instead of the lad to be a slave to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brothers. For how shall I go up to my father, if the lad is not with me, lest I see the evil that shall befall my father.”(Gen 44: 33-4). Only then Joseph cries out and reveals himself to his brothers.
It was Judah’s compassion for his father and his being willing to suffer for the well being of his father and brother that moved Joseph so greatly. Judah’s act of nobility, his compassion, showed how much he had changed. In the book, Messengers of God, Elie Wiesel says: “One is not born a tzaddik. One must strive to become one, and having become a tzaddik, one must strive to remain one (P. 67-8). Judah had changed so greatly from the young man whose idea it was to sell Joseph. After experiencing the death of his wife and two eldest sons he almost had his daughter-in-Law, the pregnant Tamar burned, she who carried his own two additional children. His confession that he had not kept his promise to Tamar; his grief at his enormous losses, changed him into the man who stood before Joseph, able to sacrifice himself for his father and brother. Joseph, too, had changed so greatly, from the callous teenager who tattled on his big brothers, to the person who needs and wants his family and is willing to forgive them completely.
The Midrash quotes Proverbs, “Counsel is like deep water in the human heart. The wise one draws it forth (20:5).” The S’fat Emet speaks of drawing water as drawing new light from the heavenly root. This is our task: in uncertain times there is a deep well of wisdom that is available to us, working on our behalf if we, like Judah and Joseph, are able to draw the light from its heavenly root. Judah says in his speech, “If your youngest brother does not come down with you, you will not see my face again (43:5).” The Berdichever Rebbe interpreted this as: if you are not concerned for your brother, (understood as our neighbor), all our brothers and sisters, all those who we can have compassion for, we will not see God’s face.
There is a lovely story from the Talmud about a tzaddik: R. Abba was one day sitting at the gate of Lydda when he saw a man come and seat himself on a ledge overhanging the ground. Being weary from traveling, he fell asleep. R. Abba saw a snake glide up towards the man, but, before it reached him, a branch fell from a tree and killed it. The man then woke up, and catching sight of the snake in front of him stood up; and no sooner had he done so than the ledge gave way, and crashed into the hollow beneath it. R. Abba then approached him and said: ‘Tell me, what have you done that God should perform two miracles for you?’ The man replied: ‘Never did anyone do an injury to me but that I made peace with him and forgave him. Moreover, if I could not make peace with him, I did not retire to rest before I forgave him together with all those who vexed me; nor was I at any time concerned about the evil the man did me; nay more, from that day onward I exerted myself to show kindness to such a man.’ Tears came to R. Abba’s eyes and he said: ‘This man's deeds excel even those of Joseph; for Joseph showed forbearance towards his own brethren, upon whom it was natural for him to have compassion; but this man did more, and it was thus befitting that the Holy One should work for him one miracle upon another (Zohar I:201b).
Our caring, our compassion for each other is priceless in the Universe, priceless to God. Our forgiveness is crucial to our growth and our own being forgiven. May we strive to find that center of caring and compassion in ourselves that draws down the light and love and compassion of the world. May we become greater than we are, more blessed than we can imagine.
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