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20th Adar 5770 ~ 6th March 2010

By Markus Lange

“When you take a census of the Israelite people (bnei-Israel) according to their enrolment, every person shall pay the LORD a ransom for himself (v’na’tenu ish kopher naphsho l’Adonai) … a half-shekel as an offering to the LORD.” (Exodus 30:12,13)

In Parashat Ki Tissa we hear about the half-shekel. Everybody gives an equal contribution to the foundations of the structure of Mishkan, the travelling sanctuary, God’s mobile home. No distinction is made between rich and poor. The half-shekel contributions are designated to go for the sockets for the poles of the Mishkan.

Of course from the half-shekel alone the Mishkan could not be built, obviously more funds were needed. And further, both the rich and the poor giving the same amount sounds unfair. Therefore I suggest: let us understand the Half-Shekel symbolically. All are meant to carry out the project of building the ‘House of God’ together—supportively, emotionally, proudly—in ways different from material abilities and means.

What does the Torah tell us about the half-shekel? What does it do before and beyond going into the supportive elements of the building? The ritual and spiritual function of the half-shekel is that of kapparah, understood to mean ‘ransom’, ‘expiation’, ‘purification’, ‘cleansing’ in a physical sense. On an emotional level one can say, kapparah makes you feel good—good about the ritual you have just performed, about yourself, about the task ahead.

We see, the monetary aspect does not matter so much; rather the half-shekel highlights a spiritual quality. The foundations of the Mishkan are of special significance. The message of the half-shekel in the context of the building of the Mishkan now becomes obvious: make yourself feel good when you do your part in building a place for immediate encounters with God.

Biblical commentators have pointed out that the word ish (in this sense “every person”) underscores the fact that everybody’s life is involved in the building process. Built upon the foundations laid by all—made from everybody’s half-shekel contribution—the Mishkan is a structure which is then filled and furnished with sacred tools and objects to service God, and it is the work place of specialists and experts, professionals of all kind with various skills and responsibilities.

This was the case in the Mishkan where the priests and Levites—supported by all of the children of Israel—were entrusted to take care of that special connection with God. Today we also build our communities and places where we want to be in touch with God. Through prayer, companionship and the pursuit of loving kindness we take care of each other, of our neighbours and of all of God’s creation.

What best empowers the experts and specialists of our day to be effective? For the prayer leaders and youth workers, coordinators and administrators, chairs of committees and project managers it is the knowledge and strong sense that they are supported by all equally - rich and poor. In the same way that everybody’s half-shekel went into the foundations of the Mishkan, ensuring that the sacred tasks of the entire community can be done, mutual appreciation for each other’s share and contribution is vital to building and maintaining a sacred structure and community; a place and space where we encounter God in prayer and loving kindness.

Markus Lange is student rabbi at NNLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, “Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the land of Egypt – we do not know what has happened to him.” (Exodus 32:1)

Hur arose and rebuked them, “You brainless fools! Have you forgotten the miracles God performed for you?” Whereupon they rose against him and slew him. They then gathered against Aaron and said, “If you make a god for us, well and good; but if not, we will do to you what we have done to this man.” When Aaron saw the state of affairs, he was afraid... The people wanted to build an altar with him, but he would not allow them, saying, “Allow me to build it by myself, for it is not befitting the respect due to the altar that another should build it.” Aaron’s intention in this was to delay matters; he said to himself, “By the time I build it all by myself Moses will come down.” But when he had built it and Moses had not yet descended, we read, “Early the next day, the people offered up burnt offerings.” (Shemot Rabbah 41:7)
Aaron argued with himself, saying: If I say to them, give me silver and gold, they will bring it immediately; but behold I will say to them give me the earrings of your wives and sons and daughters and right away this thing will fail, as it is said, “Take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters.” The women heard, but they were unwilling to give their earrings to their husbands, but they said to them, “[You want] to make an idol and an abomination that has no power to save – we will not listen to you.”... What did the men do? They broke off the earrings that were in their own ears and gave them to Aaron. (Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer 45)
The law is that a person must allow himself to be killed rather than to engage in idolatrous practices. Why then didn’t Aaron allow himself to be killed rather than build the people an idol? The explanation is as follows: the people never forced Aaron to engage in such idolatrous practices. All they asked was, “Come, make us a god,” make an idol that we will worship. The prohibition involved, as far as Aaron was concerned, was only that of lifnei iver – “placing a stumbling block in front of the blind,” i.e., enabling someone else to commit a sin. One is not required to lay down his life in order to prevent another from committing a sin. (Imrei Shefer [Rabbi Shlomo Kluger, 1785-1869, Croatia])
Hillel taught: Be a disciple of Aaron: loving peace and pursuing peace, loving your fellow creatures and attracting them to the study of Torah. (Pirkei Avot 1:12)

Sparks for Discussion

How could God’s chosen high priest have made an idol? The various midrashim portray Aaron engaging in delaying tactics, hoping that Moses would return and defuse the situation. Why didn’t Aaron just say “No!”? How much blame does Aaron bear for the sin of the Golden Calf?

The rabbis portray Aaron as the paradigmatic peacemaker, willing to go to extremes to heal conflicts or to prevent them. How much did this figure into the episode of the calf? Where does peace rank in the hierarchy of values? What happens when people decide there is no cause worth fighting (that is, killing or being killed) for?

TETZAVEH Shabbat Zachor

13th Adar 5770 ~ 27th February 2010

By Michael Gluckman

And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually [Shemot 27:20]

Light is central in Jewish existence – at the very beginning of the process of creation the first to be created is light; God said, 'There shall be light,' and light came into existence. God saw that the light was good, and God divided between the light and the darkness [Bereishit 1:3-4]

In terms of our contemporary understanding of science, light is one of the key elements that have made life possible on this planet. Without it there would be no photosynthesis in plants, the process which produces the oxygen that is a prerequisite of life.

For Judaism light has become one of our central symbols. When we rise in the morning as part of Shachrit we bless God for creating light. We usher in Shabbat and all our Chagim by the kindling of light and use the extinguishing of a flame as part of the Havdalah ceremony which divides Shabbat from the rest of the week. Most famously of all we commemorate the miracle of the rededication of the temple by the Maccabees by kindling the Chanukiah. To many of us our mother lighting the Shabbat Candles evokes our deepest Jewish memories and of course we use light to preserve those very memories through the lighting of a Yarzeit candle.

In our tradition light and dark, as opposites parallel good and evil. The Havdalah blessing parallels holiness and secularity with light and dark and goes on to parallel Israel and the other nations and the Shabbat and the six working days.

The people Israel themselves are likened to a light – we should according to Isaiah be Or l’goyim – a light to the nations. That is our role as ”the chosen people” not to be better than anyone but being charged with a special responsibility to live in such a way that we bring God’s ways to the rest of the world by example. The spreading of that light is an awesome responsibility that devolves on us all. For that light to be most effective it requires the participation of each and every one of us.

What sort of qualities do we want ascribed to that light. Looking around our community we all shudder when we see people behaving in a way that gives a bad impression of what it means to be Jew. One of my teachers taught that God measures all the choices that we made through the year. Not the choices of which dress or car that we bought. Not the choice of what we ordered at a restaurant. But the choice of how we spoke to the shop assistant, how we behaved towards the waitress. Being that light lays responsibilities upon us. And if that light illuminates something unjust, something uncomfortable, in the world then it is our duty as Jews not to put on the dark glasses and just walk on by; rather to get involved and work to correct that injustice.

Michael Gluckman is Executive Director of AMS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

Aaron shall wear it while officiating, so that the sound of it is heard when he comes into the sanctuary before the Lord and when he goes out – that he may not die. (Exodus 28:35)

So that he does not sneak in on Me like a thief in the night. From this we learn good manners: One should not simply walk unannounced into someone else’s home, in case he is doing something that requires privacy. (Bechor Shor (Rabbi Yosef of Orleans), 1140-1190, France)
Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai said: The man who enters his own house or, needless to say, the house of his fellow man, unexpectedly, the Holy One hates, and I too do not exactly love him. Rav said: Do not enter your city or even your own home unexpectedly. When Rabbi Yohanan was about to go in to inquire about the welfare of Rabbi Hanina, he would first clear his throat, in keeping with “So that the sound of it is heard when he comes in.” (Vayikra Rabbah 21:8)
“How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel!” (B’midbar 24:5). Because he saw that their doors were not directed one opposite the other. (Rashi [Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki, 1040-1105, France])
“As Balaam looked up and saw Israel encamped upon him” (B’midbar 24:2). What did he see? He saw that their tent openings were not facing each other, so that they could not peek into each other’s tents. Admiring their modesty and decency, Balaam declared, “People such as these deserve to have the shechina rest upon them.” (Bava Batra 60a)

Sparks for Discussion

We would all agree that it is wrong to snoop or invade the privacy of our neighbours -- even if we can’t always resist the temptation to do so -- but what about family members? Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai says that we must respect the privacy of those who live in our own home. Do you agree? Are there limits? Should spouses read each other’s email? Should a parent knock on a child’s door and wait to be invited in? Do parents have the right or even the responsibility to monitor their child’s on-line activity, to read her diary, or to search his room for drugs?

What responsibility does a person have to guard her or his own privacy? Today it’s hard to avoid hearing people’s cell phone conversations or seeing others’ embarrassing moments posted online. How do you keep your private life private?

TERUMAH

6th Adar 5770 ~ 20th February 2010

By Andrew Levy

The word chosen as the name of a parshah is one of the ways Jews have internalised the Torah. Traditionally, this is the first major word in the parshah. Because it is the first major word, the Rabbis had a choice. It sounds like a value-free choice; yet which word constitutes the first “major” word is surely itself a statement of ideology of sorts. If you analyse the words chosen, they tend to be either verbs of doing (Va’era, Bo, Beshallach) or proper names (Noach, Chayyei Sarah, Yitro). Only rarely are they, like today’s parshah, nouns of action and, as such, those actions have been stressed by the Rabbis as important.

So what is a “Terumah”? Reading the Torah chronologically, we don’t know because this is its first use in the Torah. It comes from the root “Ram” meaning high (often used for where God dwells) and shares this root, more significantly for the Masorti movement, with the word “Marom” meaning height. So the reader is being asked to associate it with something which is elevated. As the reader realises as s/he follows the Torah further, that is the meaning which it will take on. It becomes something “lifted off” as a sacrifice – the thigh bone to be sacrificed in the Temple service.

Yet that understanding sits very uneasily with its meaning here - the first time it appears in the Torah:-

“And God spoke to Moses saying – speak to the children of Israel so that they bring me a Terumah – from each person as their heart moves them to give shall you bring my Terumah” (Ex 25 1-2)

Here Terumah does not mean lifting off in any literal sense. Here it means something much more like “offering” or “contribution”. And this is how it has entered the Hebrew language; it came to mean the offering to be set apart for the Temple and used by the priests. However, as can be seen from its original context it also has a much wider meaning than that. The word means something contributed voluntarily and from the heart. So how does this link with the word’s root meaning of “high”?

Words in Hebrew often double up in their meaning – a word with a specific mundane meaning can also have an elevated meaning as well. So the word “Tzedakah” meaning charity comes from the word “Tzedek” meaning “just”. In other words for the Hebrew language charity is not what you do if you feel like it – it is nothing more and nothing less than what is right or just.

The same idea works for Terumah – a Terumah is more than an offering or contribution. It is also something elevated; in Hebrew, the word links with the notion of a God residing on high. So the making of a donation (Terumah) has an immediate association with God; that which “their heart moves them to give” is also divinely inspired.

Andrew Levy is a member of NNLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

You shall make the planks for the Tabernacle of acacia wood, upright. The length of each plank shall be ten cubits and the width of each plank a cubit and a half. (Exodus 26:15-16)

Where did the boards come from? Jacob our father planted them. When he came down to Egypt, he said to his sons: My sons! You are destined to be redeemed from here, and when you are redeemed, the Holy One will tell you that you are to make a Tabernacle for Him. Rise up and plant cedars now, so that when He tells you to make a Tabernacle for Him, these cedars will be on hand. So Jacob’s sons set to planting cedars, doing just what he told them. Hence Scripture speaks of “the planks,” the boards their father had arranged should be on hand. (Tanhuma Terumah 9)

One day, as he was walking on the road, Honi the Circle Maker saw a man planting a carob tree. He asked him, “How long will it take this tree to bear fruit?” The man replied, “Seventy years.” He asked, “Are you quite sure you will live another seventy years to eat its fruit?” The man replied, “I myself found fully grown carob trees in the world; as my forebears planted for me, so am I planting for my children.” (Taanit 23a)

Why of acacia wood? God set an example for all time, that when a man is about to build his house from a fruit-producing tree, he should be reminded: If, when the supreme King of kings commanded the Tabernacle to be erected, His instructions were to use only such trees as are not fruit-bearing – even though all things belong to Him; how much more should this be so in your case! (Shemot Rabbah 35:2)

Not only one who cuts down food trees, but also one who [purposely and impulsively] smashes household goods, tears clothes, demolishes a building, stops up a spring, or destroys food violates the command “You must not destroy...” (Devarim 20:19) (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Malachim 6:10 (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon), 1135-1209, Spain and Egypt)

Sparks for Discussion

The Biblical cubit is about 18 inches, so the planks mentioned here would measure some 15 feet by a little more than two feet. Where would the Israelites have found them? Why does the Tanhuma explain their origin in the way it does?

Shemot Rabbah uses our verse to teach an environmental lesson. What does it add to the concept of bal tashchit (do not destroy) as codified by Rambam? What are you doing to incorporate bal tashchit into your life? The passages from Tanhuma and Taanit remind us that concern for the environment means making long-term commitments. Do you think this is realistic? How can we encourage people to think in terms of generations rather than weeks or months?

MISHPATIM

Shabbat Shekalim

29th Shevat 5770 ~ 13th February 2010

By Allan Myers

What’s today’s Hebrew date? (No turning back the page!)

Two weeks ago today was Tu B’Shvat, the 15^th of Shevat. That was fourteen days ago so today is the 29^th day of Shevat. Shevat has thirty days, so tomorrow is the last day of Shevat and is the first day of Rosh Chodesh Adar.

In the time of the building of the Temple, the Jewish poll tax was collected during Adar. It was originally a way of counting the people. Later, it was called kessef kipurim (atonement silver).

It was half a shekel’s weight in silver per person and had to be collected by the end of the following month (Nissan).

This year, the last day of Adar is on Monday 15 March, the day when Council Tax bills will be going out all over the country to collect the British poll tax.

To mark the start of the Jewish poll tax month, on this Shabbat we read a special maftir and haphtarah about the first time the poll tax was levied in order to build the Mishkan, the sanctuary in the wilderness.

In today’s maftir, we read that the contribution is an anonymous, uniform contribution. Everybody, rich and poor, has to contribute the same amount. The money is used to buy public sacrifices which atone for the people as a whole and the silver donated is used to make the hooks and screws of the tabernacle – not the most decorative parts but the ones which hold it together. Without this contribution, it would collapse.

How is the half shekel linked to atonement? Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik says that the scapegoat, used in the Yom Kippur ritual, is one of the sacrifices bought with the half shekel levy. Karen Koenig Schochet, writing in JOFA, the orthodox feminists’ journal, takes this further. Noting that the half shekel is gathered as people pass by a collecting box, she compares it to Rosh Hashanah, when, as we read in the Unataneh Tokef prayer, “All mankind passes before God like a flock of sheep”.

Although everyone is judged individually, the act of passing before God like a flock of sheep means that no one is judged too harshly. Through contributing something anonymous and partial (only half a shekel) each individual joins the community, becoming part of a whole. As part of the community, which, as a whole, is deserving of life, the individual attains atonement.

Allan Myers is a member of KNMS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

When you encounter your enemy’s ox or ass wandering, you must take it back to him. When you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless raise it with him. (Exodus 23:4-5)

A.  “Your enemy’s ox” – Rabbi Josiah says: This means of a heathen worshiping idols. For thus we find everywhere that the heathen are designated as enemies of Israel... Rabbi Eliezer says: This passage refers to a convert who has relapsed into his former evil predilections. Rabbi Isaac says: This passage refers to an apostate Israelite. Rabbi Jonathan says: The passage actually refers to an Israelite. How then can Scripture say: “Your enemy”? It is simply this: If one has beaten his son or has had a quarrel with him, he becomes his enemy for the time being. (Mekhilta Kaspa 2)

B.  Even your enemy’s ox. But it is a greater commandment to do it for your enemy than for your friend, in order to crush the evil impulse. (Bechor Shor (Rabbi Yosef of Orleans), 1140-1190, France)

C.  Moreover the halakhah sees in his unloading of the animal not only a duty you have to carry out towards your fellowmen in difficulty, but also towards the suffering animal, that tza’ar baalei hayim (the prevention of the suffering of living creatures) is a Torah commandment. To help his fellowman he would only be obligated “with him,” if the man is doing all he can himself. But for the animal’s sake, he must render assistance even if the master wrongfully and lazily stands there doing nothing and leaves the whole of the work to him. (Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, 1808-1888, Germany)

D.  Rabbi Alexandroni said: Two ass drivers who hated each other were traveling along the same road. The ass of one of them fell down. The other saw it but passed him by. After he had passed by he said: It is written in Holy Writ “if you see the ass of your enemy... you must nevertheless raise it with him.” Forthwith he went back to help him with the load. The other began to think things over and said: So and so is evidently my friend and I didn’t know it. Both went into a roadside inn and had a drink together. What led to them making up? One of them looked into the Torah. (Tanhuma Yashan Mishpatim)

Sparks for Discussion

Why is the Mekhilta troubled by the phrase “your enemy’s ox?” What can we learn from this mitzvah? Our commentators suggest three possibilities – to control our natural tendency to avoid or ignore people we don’t like; to prevent the suffering of animals; or to work at turning enemies into friends. Which do you think is most important? Which can you imagine yourself doing – would you stop to help if you saw your unpleasant neighbour by the side of the road trying to fix a flat tyre? What is the appropriate way to deal with those we dislike?

YITRO

22nd Shevat 5770 ~ 6th February 2010

By Vicky Fox

This week’s sedra describes one of the most important, seminal moments in Jewish history - the giving of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. So it is interesting to ponder the significance of the sedra being named after Moses’ father in law – Yitro – who opens the sedra with his advice on establishing a system of justice.

When Yitro sees large numbers of people bringing their disputes to Moses from morning until night he asks him why he alone is the judge. Moses explains that he acts both as judge to deal with the disagreements and as teacher, instructing the people in God’s laws. Yitro tells Moses that he is wrong and sets out instructions to establish a judicial system based on precedent, with judges appointed from the people and Moses as the senior judge.

The rabbinic commentators note Yitro’s deep concern when he sees Moses acting as sole judge from morning to night. What concerns them is not that Moses is overworked and at risk of exhaustion, but that Moses is exhausting the people. By insisting that he is the only one who can solve the disputes, he is forcing the people to wait for many hours waiting for him to reach their case. The Ramban comments that the trouble with Moses’ decision to hear all the disputes himself was not simply the frustration it caused the people, but the danger of increasing violence and injustice amongst them. As the people lost faith in Moses’ ability to hear their cases, they would start to take the law into their own hands. Rough justice would be the result.

Yitro’s advice to delegate authority and share the leadership meant that justice could be dispensed more quickly with the result that the people would be less frustrated and more willing to have their cases heard. The system established the rule of law and most legal systems today are loosely based on Yitro’s counsel to Moses.

This judicial system delegates and shares leadership amongst the people and puts responsibility on them to establish a fair system. The establishment of a judiciary drawn from the people leads to a more egalitarian system, with maximum access and "ownership" of the Torah by the people. Having a strong and wise leader such as Moses is important, but so is having people to help, because without all of that combined help, Moses’ efforts alone could not succeed.

I suspect it is no coincidence that we are reminded of the importance of justice and our responsibility in maintaining that system just before the revelation at Sinai. The order of this sedra suggests that we had to first establish and accept Yitro’s idea of a society based on a justice system before we were ready to enter the covenant with God. We had to acknowledge the fundamental principle of human responsibility to establish and maintain a fair and equitable justice system. Supporting such a justice system allows us to live a moral life and makes us worthy of our relationship with God.

Vicky Fox is a member of NNLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

"You shall not swear falsely by [literally, lift up/carry] the name of the Lord your God; for the Lord will not clear one who swears falsely by His name." (Exodus 20:7) Note: Traditional translation: You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that takes His name in vain.
“You shall not swear falsely by My name” (Leviticus 19:12) What need was there for this text, when it has already been stated: “You shall not swear falsely by the name of the Lord your God”? You might have thought that one is not culpable except when His specific name [the Tetragrammaton] is involved. From where do we learn that the prohibition applies to all the names of God? The text adds: “By My name” – whatever name I have. (Sifra)
In any case, one who invokes God and does not keep his promise is as if he is denying God’s existence. For the point of mentioning God’s name is to say, “Just as God is truth, so is my word.” (Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, 1092-1167, Spain)
The text has been interpreted by our Sages to mean that it is forbidden to swear by the hallowed Name in vain, as for example, he that swears that something is or is not so, where the matter is self-evident – that the pillar is made of marble and he is standing by, and all can see that it is so. (Ramban [Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 1194-1270, Spain])
The text also implies that he should not bear the name of the Lord who is his God in vain, indicating to all that he is a Jew and a servant of the Lord implying that he is one of His servants – when such is not the case. This prohibition also includes the one who regards himself as more righteous than he really is. (Or HaHayyim [Rabbi Hayyim Ibn Attar, 1696-1743, Morocco and Israel])
Do not take God’s name in matters which are in vain or false. Do not place an imprint of holiness on things which are totally repulsive, which appear as positive commandments but which are in reality serious sins. Indeed, it is the way of the Evil Inclination to deceive people by depicting grievous sins as the most sanctified commandments. Our Sages said (Shevuot 39a) that the entire world trembled when God said at Sinai, “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain,” because all the most terrible crimes and murders are carried out under the cloak of truth, justice, and uprightness. (Duda’ei Reuven [Rabbi Reuben Katz, 1880-1963, Lithuania, United States, and Israel])

Sparks for Discussion

The translation of this verse found in Etz Hayim limits the commandment to the prohibition of false oaths, but our commentators understand it much more broadly. Surely false oaths are prohibited, but so are meaningless ones. Why? How is pretending to be more righteous than one actually is “carrying” God’s name in vain? Duda’ei Reuven warns against presenting sins as if they were mitzvot. How do you understand this? What examples can you think of?

BESHALLACH

Shabbat Shira ~ Tu b’Shevat

15th Shevat 5770 ~ 30th January 2010

By Michael Wegier

This weeks Sidra is divided into two equal parts. The first part tells the story of the crossing of the Red Sea and the defeat of the Egyptians. It is full of incredible miracles. The cloud and pillar of fire that guides the Israelites, the parting of the sea and the subsequent drowning of the Egyptians. This first part ends with the Song at the Sea which celebrates God's awesome powers.

The second half begins with Miriam's song but immediately afterwards, the Torah changes tone and we are drawn into the beginning of many complaints about the Israelites' situation. The food is no good, Egypt was better, there is no water to drink. Moses is accused of bringing them out in order to kill them. Moses is genuinely scared. He pleads with God to help him. Even though this second section also includes God's interventions, the tone of the text is characterised by complaint rather than the awesome power of God so prevalent in the earlier section.

The extraordinary change in tone cannot be coincidental. We must ask ourselves what the Torah is trying to tell us by juxtaposing these two elements against each other. It seems to me that there is a powerful lesson to be learnt. Religious civilization may be inspired and enriched by miracles but they are no guide for how to live today.

The Israelites who had just witnessed a massive display of God's power could not maintain their faith in His or Moshe's abilities within a small amount of time after crossing the sea. From the 10 plagues through to the killing of the Egyptians, it would be reasonable to assume that the people would continue to have faith in Moses and God for the foreseeable future.

In fact, the very recent miracles were insufficient to calm their fears or assuage their hunger. The Israelites needed practical (if God given) solutions then and there. The miracles were only relevant and essential for the actual problem they needed to address. As a factor in guaranteeing ongoing commitment they were useless.

Instead, the Torah and subsequent Jewish writing, highlights the role of Mitzva and Talmud Torah rather than the basking in miracle shown to our ancestors. For Judaism to be sustained, it is praxis and study which are needed and not contemplation of miracles.

There is great relevance here for our situation in Israel (where I am writing). I do not know if the creation of Israel and its subsequent development were divinely inspired (I have my doubts). But I am absolutely convinced that even believing it was a God given miracle is irrelevant to how we should construct our lives here. Israel's future and its place in Jewish history will be determined by how we create a just and culturally rich society notwithstanding the evil people who hope to destroy us. Ancient and modern miracles may have occurred. However we must rely on the very human application of the moral use of power, the wisdom of Judaism and the commitment to democracy.

Michael Wegier is a former member of NNLS and director of Melitz

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

The Lord said to Moses, “why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward.” (Exodus 14:15)

1. According to Rabbi Eliezer, the Holy One said to Moses: There is a time to be brief and a time to be lengthy. My children are in great distress, the sea is enclosing them, the enemy is in pursuit, and you stand here praying away! Tell the Israelites to go forward. (Shemot Rabbah 21:8)

2. Rabbi Joshua said, God said to Moses: All that Israel have to do is to go forward. Therefore, let them go forward! Let their feet step forward from the dry land to the sea, and you will see the miracles that I will perform for them. (Shemot Rabbah 21:8)

3. Rabbi Meir said: When the Israelites stood at the Reed Sea, the tribes were vying with one another, one saying “I will be first to go down into the sea,” and the other saying “I will be first to go down into the sea.”... Rabbi Judah said to Rabbi Meir: That is not quite the way it happened. In fact, one tribe said, “I will not be the first to go into the sea,” and another tribe also said, “I will not be the first to go into the sea.” While they were standing there deliberating, Nachshon ben Amminadav sprang forward and was the first to go down into the sea. (Talmud Sotah 36b)

4. Rabbi Yisrael Salanter was accustomed to say that a Jew has to be a heretic to a certain extent, and if someone in need comes to him, he should not trust to God to help the person. Instead, he must do whatever he can to help a person in need.

5. Pray as if everything depended on God and work as if everything depended on man. (Francis Cardinal Spellman, Archbishop of New York, 1889-1967)

Sparks for Discussion

According to tradition, it was only after Nachshon leapt into the sea that the waters divided. What do you think would have happened if Nachshon (or someone else) hadn’t jumped? What do you suppose was in Nachshon’s mind as he leapt -- I have faith that God will save me? I’d rather die than go back to Egypt as a slave? Doing something – anything – is better than this endless debating? What moved Nachshon to act?

Cardinal Spellman makes the point nicely. How can we know whether the “miracles” we see are due to divine or human efforts? Do you believe it makes sense to keep trying in the face of apparently insurmountable obstacles?

8th Shevat 5770 ~ 23rd January 2010

By Angela Gluck

We only get it twice—once here in Bo and once in K’doshim, a couple of books later: those two little words “kol adat”—the whole community.

Scores of times in the Torah God tells Moshe to “Speak to the children of Israel and say to them…” but at the beginning of K’doshim (Vayikra 19: 2), we have the interestingly small yet important insertion of “kol adat” in “Speak to the whole community of the children of Israel”. Moshe is to tell them all about the nature of God’s holiness and the nature of, as it were, human holiness: not so much the enactment of ritual but more the engagement with justice that we are to embrace as a response to The Holy One.

In Bo, “kol adat” comes at the end of all of the confrontations with Pharaoh after all the yes-you-can-go and no-you-can’t-go power plays, the making of Pharaoh ’s heart variously hard and heavy, when it’s all over and the Children of Israel will soon be leaving. The people have just learned that this is to be “the first of the months, the beginning of the months of the year for you”. Then comes this rare phrase “kol adat”—a slight variation on the version in K’doshim—in “Speak to the whole community of Israel…” (Sh’mot 12: 3) Moshe is to tell them about taking a lamb for each family on the tenth day of that month.

Why that extra phrase? Is it because Moshe—other than in these two instances—is only to speak to some of the people? There’s nothing to suggest that directly or indirectly. Indeed, we have an image of the whole community gathered to hear what he has to say or at the very least not being excluded from it. Aside from the few mitzvot that are given for identified groups and ‘types’—for example, the Leviim—we’re given to see all of the Torah as intended for all of the people.

Is it then because the mitzvot that follow “kol adat” are of supreme significance? That, too, is hard to fathom. “Kol adat” doesn’t appear before “Sh’ma” or “Choose life” or “Justice, justice you shall pursue” or even the Ten Sayings, with the commandment not to murder, so it can hardly be the case that they’re of relatively low importance.

So what, then, might be behind “kol adat” in these verses of Bo and K’doshim? It seems that there are clues to be spotted from a close reading of the two texts and a comparison of their contexts. While spoken in entirely different settings—one in Egypt to slaves, the other in Sinai to free, post-Torah people—they echo each other in unexpected ways.

One parallel is the date. K’doshim—like most of Vayikra—is given on the first of the first month, which we later came to call Nisan: while it’s not explicitly stated, as in Bo, it can be deduced from the Torah’s internal clock. That was quite some day for it marked the dedication of the Mishkan. Like the liberation from slavery, it’s a time of new beginnings—one year on. Another parallel is in the interweaving of ritual and theological elements with ethical and relational elements. In K’doshim, “I am God” is threaded through the list of mitzvot to give human action an ultimate direction and to infuse life with holiness. In Bo, these associations are more scattered. Yet on the point of the Israelites’ departure, their slavery and hardship are not mentioned and the original liberation movement has been transcended: Bo is no mere abolitionist tract. Moshe doesn’t play the human rights card with Pharaoh . He doesn’t say, “let us go because it’s wrong to treat people the way you do” but rather, “let us go because God is to be worshipped—and God has power!” And when the Israelites are ready to go, they’re told the implications of their freedom, one of which is about respect and decency and another is about God’s intervention: “I and not an angel… I and no other…”

Both Bo and K’doshim have an interesting and important place. K’doshim, the middle of the third book, is almost exactly mid-way through the Torah and can justifiably be seen as its heart. Bo is the parashah that launches the Children of Israel into peoplehood; it captures their defining moment; it records their founding narrative.

K’doshim may tell us what the Torah is about. Bo tells us what we are to be about: a people whom God has saved, made free for the Torah and bids to remember and relive and relearn this precious experience—every day, every week, every year. Little wonder that it’s for “kol adat”!

Angela Gluck is a member of NLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it in the blood that is in the basin, and apply some of the blood that is in the basin to the lintel and to the two doorposts. None of you shall go outside the door of his house until morning. (Exodus 12:22)

This tells us that the angel, once permission to harm is given him, does not discriminate between the righteous and the wicked. (Mekhilta, Pisha 11)
The reason the Israelites were forbidden to leave their homes during the plague of the first-born was because “If your enemy falls, do not exult” (Mishlei 24:17) – that they should not see the downfall of their enemies, and they should not become revengeful or cruel. (Rabbi Aharon Shmuel Tamrat, 1869-1931, Lithuania)
The Exodus from Egypt is a symbol of liberation and freedom for all times and in all generations, and “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt” (20:2) As such, there is no way that the Exodus would take place in the night, as if the Jews were stealing away. (Tzeror Ha-Mor (Rabbi Abraham Saba), 15-16th century, Spain, Portugal and Morocco)
The Holy Blessed One said: If I bring forth the Israelites by night, they [the Egyptians] will say, He has done His deeds like a thief. Therefore, behold, I will bring them forth when the sun is in his zenith at midday. (Pirkei de Rabbi Eliezer 45)
Pharaoh said to Moses, “Up, depart from among my people.” Moses replied, “Are we thieves, that you expect us to get out during the dark of night? Thus has the Holy One commanded us: ‘None of you shall go outside the door of his house until morning’ – we will not go out except with heads held high, in the sight of all Egypt.” (Tanhuma Bo 19)

Sparks for Discussion

Why were the Israelites commanded to remain in their homes until morning? Was it a safety precaution? Was it to prevent gloating? Or, as many commentators suggest, was it important that the Israelites leave Egypt in the full light of day? What does it mean when something is done under cover of darkness? Would the knowledge that events and actions in your life might wind up on the front page of the newspaper or on the internet change the way you behave in any significant way?

VAERA

Rosh Chodesh Shevat

1st Shevat 5770 ~ 16th January 2010

By Daniel Oppenheimer

In the first part of the parashah, God says a curious thing to Moses. “See, I have made you God (elohim) to Pharaoh, and Aharon your brother will be your prophet”.

The commentators tend to interpret the term “elohim” in this context as meaning “master” or “judge” – that Moses now has power over Pharaoh.

I would like to take the term “God” more literally, and read this as God elegantly making a point to both Moses and Pharaoh simultaneously – different points, each appropriate to the person concerned.

To Moses, God is referring back to the interchange between God and Moses in the previous week’s parashah, when God was giving Moses his mission. Moses’s response to God’s clear command to go back to Egypt was, instead of submitting to God’s clearly superior authority, to argue the toss. Now Moses is in the business of giving commands to Pharaoh – but just as Moses did not listen, so Pharaoh did not listen. We can see this verse as God saying with an ironic smile, so to speak, “I am now going to put you in the position that I have just been – namely, to have someone who ought to be obeying your command first time, arguing with you. You go and play the “God” role, and Pharaoh can play the “Moses” role. See how you like it!”

With regard to Pharaoh, God is making a much more humiliating point. The verse can be seen as part of the Torah’s ongoing project to ridicule and belittle idol worship, idol worshippers and political systems based on idol worship, whenever it gets the chance. In Pharaoh’s Egyptian worldview, it is Pharaoh who is a god and Moses who is the humble subject. God says “I hereby turn your world upside down, Pharaoh”. The descendant of slaves will now be God to the former god-king Pharaoh. And in fact, the belittling of Pharaoh is even worse when we bear in mind that of course Moses is not presented as being a particularly superior human being. If Moses is like God to Pharaoh, what does that say about the relationship of the actual God to Pharaoh? In particular, we can read this as God’s response to Pharaoh’s dismissive remark in parashat Shemot, when Moses first asks him to let the Jewish people go, “Who is this “Adonai” person, that I should listen to him?” The verse we are considering is God’s answer to Pharaoh. “Fine, you say you don’t know who I am. Then I’ll give you a God that you do know: this Moses, he will be God as far as you are concerned. How do you like that?”

Daniel Oppenheimer is a member of NNLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

"And the Lord said to Moses, “Say to Aaron: Take your rod and hold out your arm over the waters of Egypt – its rivers, its canals, its ponds, all its bodies of water – that they may turn to blood; there shall be blood throughout the land of Egypt, even in vessels of wood and stone.” (Exodus 7:19)"

Rabbi Tanhum taught: Why were the waters not smitten by Moses himself? Because the Holy One said to Moses: It is not proper that the waters that protected you when you were cast into the river should now be smitten by you. As you live, they shall be smitten by none other than Aaron. (Shemot Rabbah 9:10)
Rabbi Tanhum taught: It is not proper that the dust that protected you when you killed the Egyptian should be smitten by you. Therefore, these three plagues [blood, frogs, lice] were brought about by means of Aaron. (Shemot Rabbah 10:7)
Water is an inanimate object that does not have free will. When something floats in water and does not sink, it would not occur to us to give thanks to the water for its buoyancy. Nevertheless, we learn from this verse that if a person derives pleasure from an object, he should show his gratitude by being careful not to cause harm or damage to the object, even though it would not suffer pain... Since this is true concerning inanimate objects, all the more so we must show gratitude toward people who have shown us kindness. (Rabbi Chayim Shmuelevitz) (Rabbi Zelig Pliskin, “Love Your Neighbour,” pp. 140-141.)
Don’t point to an institution’s imperfections as reason for not acknowledging the good it has done you. The Talmud teaches, “Cast no mud into the well from which you have drunk” (Bava Kamma 92b). Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik taught that if you studied at a school, even if you come to disagree with the school’s approach later, don’t “throw mud at it” and condemn it because of those aspects of the institution with which you now disagree. This dictum is relevant as well for those who have changed their religious orientation. For example, some Jews who grow up Orthodox later leave for other denominations, while others who grow up Reform, Masorti, or unaffiliated later become Orthodox. Such people often speak with bitterness of the movements in which they were raised, but they should also acknowledge whatever good they gained from their earlier experiences. (Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, “A Code of Jewish Ethics, Volume I: You Shall Be Holy,” p. 107)

Sparks for Discussion

Hakarat ha-tov (acknowledging the good others have done for you) is not difficult when those to whom you owe thanks are well-loved friends and family. What do we owe to those who are no longer members of that group – an ex-spouse, an estranged relative, a former business colleague from who you parted on bad terms? How should we speak about them?

Rabbi Telushkin applies this notion to people who have changed the religious movement to which they belong. We might expand this idea to recognize that we have something worthwhile to learn from all the streams of Judaism even if we disagree with much of their philosophy and practice. What can we learn from Reform, Orthodox, Hasidic, and cultural Jews? What should we appreciate about our own less-than-perfect Masorti movement?

SHEMOT

23rd Tevet 5770 ~ 9th January 2010

By Deborah Silver

And so the curtain rises once more on the story of how our people stopped being just a family, albeit an extended one, and began to be a people instead.

Consider how a saga like this would be introduced in the cinema.

In his book Working It Out my friend Alex George had one of his characters summarize how she makes film trailers:

I get presented with two hours of dross and have to cut it down to two minutes of interesting and exciting footage which is going to fool people into spending their hard-earned cash to go and see it...you just take the best jokes and the most violent bits and stick them together...

So for the story told in the book of Shemot, there would be an introductory ‘hook’ line of some kind; some arresting images of slavery; a bush, alight; a close-up or two on some brooding (and probably male) faces; surging music; probably some thunder and lightening. Jokes? Perhaps not so many, but there are certainly enough violent bits to make up for the deficit.

Yet we tell the story over and over again, even though the adventure sequences must be predictable by now.

So let me offer an alternative focus, as we begin to read once more. In the Babylonian Talmud, Sotah, on page 11b, we find the statement: ‘It was as a reward for righteous women that our forefathers were redeemed from Egypt.’ (This is followed by an interpretation of exceptional beauty, which I invite you to read and consider for yourselves, since to write about it would take more than the word count here allows.)

Let us notice the female characters in the story, this year. Because if we do, we will find that it is women who drive the narrative. Without Jocheved’s courage and Miriam’s ingenuity, Moses would have been killed at birth. Without the initiative of Pharaoh’s daughter (who is nameless in the Torah, but whom the rabbis of our later tradition name BatYa), Moses would never have grown to adulthood. Without Zipporah’s quick thinking, Moses would have been killed in his encounter with an angel (this is a bit we do not normally read at Hebrew school).

And women continue to receive special mention. Indeed, the festival of Rosh Chodesh, the celebration of the new month, is deduced by the Rabbis from a close reading of the episode of the Golden Calf.

So for this year, I invite us to approach that list of names with which the book begins with a readiness to see that the story is going to be told much more subtly than a film trailer would suggest. Rather, there is a huge cast of characters in the story of our evolution to nationhood, a cast in which all are represented.

Deborah Silver is a rabbinic student at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies of the American, Los Angeles.

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

Now Moses, tending the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian, drove the flock into the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, yet the bush was not consumed. Moses said, “I must turn aside to look at this miraculous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up?” When the Lord saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him out of the bush: “Moses! Moses!” He answered, “Here I am.” (Exodus 3:1-4)

A gentile asked Rabbi Joshua ben Karhah: Why did the Holy One, blessed be He, speak to Moses from the midst of a thorn bush? He replied: Had He spoken from a carob or a sycamore, you would have asked the same question, but I cannot let you go away empty-handed. Why [did God speak to Moses] from the midst of a thorn bush? It is to teach you that there is no place that is devoid of the divine presence – even a thorn bush. (Shemot Rabbah 2:5)
Sometime after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their labours. (Exodus 2:11) The Holy One said to Moses, “You have put aside your work and have gone to share the sorrow of Israel, behaving to them like a brother; I will also leave those on high and below and speak with you.” Therefore it is written, “When the Lord saw that he turned aside to look” – because God saw that Moses turned aside from his duties to look upon their burdens, “God called to him out of the bush.” (Shemot Rabbah 1:27)
Once the Kotzker Rebbe [Menachem Mendl of Kotzk, 1787-1859] asked his houseguests the following question: “Where does God abide?” The guests responded, “Surely the whole universe is filled with God’s glory.” The Rabbi of Kotzk answered, “God dwells wherever God is allowed to enter!” (Leket, From the Treasure House of Hassidism by Martin Buber)

Sparks for Discussion

Did God create the burning bush just for Moses, or had it been burning there all along? Had dozens of passersby seen it, thought “oh, a burning bush,” and kept right on walking? It’s not difficult to perceive the presence of God in the splitting of the sea, in the birth of a child, or in a spectacular sunset, but how can we learn to sense God in the ordinary and the everyday? What steps can we take to let God in?

From: United Synagogue for Conservative Judaism. More can be found on their website http://www.uscj.org

VAYECHI

16th Tevet 5770 ~ 2nd January 2010

By Rabbi Jeremy Gordon

The Biblical commentator, Isaiah Horowitz begins his commentary (called Shnei Luchot HaBrit) on Vayechi with an investigation of Jacob’s request that Joseph, ‘deal kindly [hesed] and truly [emet] with me.’ Jacob is looking for his son to take him back, after his death, to the Land of Israel. Horowitz enquires into the notion of hesed v’emet – acts of truth and kindness performed for those who have passed away. These acts receive tremendous acclaim in the hands of the Rabbis who believe that caring for someone after their death rejects any notion that the carer expects reward or recompense – pure altruism. One who engages in care of the dead is held to meet the great challenge of the proto-Rabbi Antigonus of Socho; ‘Be not like a servant who serves their master in the hope of reward, but rather like a servant who serves their master NOT in the hope of reward.’ (Avot 1:3)

Caring for the dead is certainly intense work, usually undertaken by an elite chevra kaddisha (burial or literally ‘Holy’ society) whose motives are deemed exceptionally pure. However, in his Biblical commentary, Horowitz explores whether or not Joseph’s motives really are pure. Following Joseph’s agreeing to perform this asked for hesed v’emet Joseph’s sons get a double blessing from their grandfather and perhaps Joseph saw that reward coming. Indeed maybe even the hesed v’emet of the chevra kaddisha is suspect. Maybe they are doing it for some otherworldly reward, or to appear pious, or maybe, even, in the hope that when their turn comes there will be someone to care for their own death.

I think the point is that is it possible to render any action suspect from the perspective of hesed v’emet – ultimate altruism. We are all one big jumbled up conflagration of competing motivations and inclinations, many of which we barely understand ourselves. Perhaps the secret is not to push too hard at this impossible goal of acting with perfect kindness in search of pure altruism. Maybe we would all do better looking for every inducement to do good and grabbing them en route to making the world a kinder and better place. A wise colleague (whose name I have forgotten) asked this question – why, if we are commanded to give Tzedakah, is there no blessing to accompany the performance of such an important Mitzvah? Maybe, he guessed, if there was a blessing, there would be Talmudic analysis, legal codification, Kabbalistic preparation and so on until the poor person, hand outstretched before us, would drop dead before we would get round to offering something. (Indeed it’s an answer based on a Talmudic passage where a poor person does indeed collapse while his potential benefactor gets himself ready to hand over something sustaining).

Acts of kindness should not be subjected to investigation until they can be demonstrated as being pure examples of hesed v’emet, they should be applauded and under-analysed, not over-analysed. We should be encouraged to act gratuitously in being kind. We should practice deeds of kindness wantonly. For, and this is a very Jewish thought, the path towards holiness begins with action.

Jeremy Gordon is Rabbi of NLS

Torah Sparks

By Rabbi Joyce Newmark

Simeon and Levi are a pair; their weapons are tools of lawlessness. Let not my person be included in their council, let not my being be counted in their assembly, for when angry they slay men, and when pleased they maim oxen. Cursed be their anger so fierce, and their wrath so relentless. I will divide them in Jacob, scatter them in Israel. (Bereisheit 49:5-7)

Simeon and Levi were zealous and their motives were pure. What they did to Shechem did not stem from a love of battle or war. They would not have risked their lives had it not been for the sake of Heaven. Yet in spite of this Jacob cursed their zealousness, for anger and zealousness are not good qualities, and a person should always refrain from them, even for the sake of Heaven and with good motives. (Mi-ginzeinu Ha-atik, quoting Rabbi Meir of Premishlan, cited in Itturei Torah, Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Greenberg)
Their anger will be lessened through their lowly state and hard life, caused by the fact that they will be divided and scattered. (Rabbi Ovadia ben Jacob Sforno, 1475-1550, Italy)
“They slay men” – that refers to Hamor and the people of Shechem; “they maim oxen” – that they wished to annihilate Joseph (Rashi). What is the connection between these two events? Rather, Jacob said as follows: When I saw their extremism and their zealousness in the episode of Shechem, where they killed the entire town after their sister had been defiled by Shechem the son of Hamor, I did not know if the source of their action was a holy one, in that they were zealous for God, or whether it was no more than simple revenge and murder. The second incident, then, that of the sale of Joseph, taught me that their first action had not been done out of pure motives, but because of their anger and their desire for revenge: because “when angry they slay men.” (Ma’ayanah shel Torah, Rabbi Alexander Zusia Friedman, 1897-1943, Poland)
The Chatam Sofer explains that the dividing and spreading in this verse refers to the previously mentioned anger of the tribes of Shimon and Levi. Shimon and Levi overreacted with violence. But the other tribes did nothing for the benefit of Dinah. This was improper, for they should have taken some action. Therefore Yaakov said, “I’ll take away some of the anger of Shimon and Levi and spread it among the other brothers, for they need more than they have now. Then they will all have this trait in a proper amount.” (Toras Moshe) Every trait is necessary. The only question is how much and in which situations it should be used. Someone without anger or zealousness will fail to take action to protest injustice. On the other hand, excessive anger is extremely harmful. It causes quarrels, hurt feelings, much pain and suffering. What is needed is the proper balance to be used according to the directives of the Torah... To be a complete person every trait must be used. Fortunate is the person who has mastered a proper balance. (Rabbi Zelig Pliskin, “Growth Through Torah,” pp. 133-134)

Sparks for Discussion

How do you understand Jacob’s “blessing” of Simeon and Levi?
Is anger ever justified? Under what circumstances?
When is anger appropriate? How should appropriate anger be put to use?
How can a person learn to control inappropriate anger?

From: United Synagogue for Conservative Judaism. More can be found on their website http://www.uscj.org