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Past Reflections can be found by clicking on the months from 2009 below:

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KORACH


5th Tammuz 5769 ~ 27th June 2009

By Vicky Fox 

In this week’s parsha, we witness the rebellion of  Korach and his supporters against the leadership of Moshe and Aaron.  In a dramatic test, God demonstrates that Moses and Aaron are his chosen leaders.  The rebels are punished.

What was the basis of the rebellion? Korach and his 250 supporters visit Moses and Aaron saying,

“You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them and the Lord is in their midst.  Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” (Numbers 16:3)

Jewish tradition in Pirke Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) teaches us that Korach’s challenge is a paradigm of the wrong sort of disagreement.  It is not immediately obvious why this should be so.  Korach’s challenge does not seem unreasonable; after all, why shouldn’t there be an equitable distribution of power among the community?  Disagreement and challenge are not inherently wrong in Judaism, as is evident in numerous episodes in Torah, and as seen on virtually every page of Talmud.

So what was different about Korach’s challenge? Why did God cause the earth to swallow him and all his possessions?

First, Korach’s accusation that Moses has set himself above the people is at odds with the reality. At his first encounter with God at the burning bush, Moses showed his reluctance to become a leader.  The Torah tells us that “Moses was a very humble man, more so than any other man on earth.”  Moses was happy to share power when, on the advice of his father-in-law, he appointed elders as judges.  The rabbis tell us that Korach was in fact advancing a selfish cause. He wasn’t protesting because of the injustice to other people. He was protesting because he wanted to inflate his own position.  He was jealous of Moses.

Pirkei Avot describes the ideal argument as being that between Hillel and Shammai. This is because their disagreement was “for the sake of heaven” i.e. it represented a battle for truth rather than for power or victory.  The Talmud explains why Jewish law usually follows the view of the school of Hillel:

“ … because they were kindly and modest, because they studied not only their own rulings but also those of the school of Shammai and because they taught the words of Shammai before their own”.

The problem with Korach is not that he challenged Moses, but his motivation for doing so.  There is a destructive nature to an argument for the sake of power – it’s about winners and losers and the result is that both sides suffer.  The opposite happens when the argument is for the sake of truth. In the search for truth, both parties are ultimately the winners because being defeated by the truth is also a victory.

The difference in these two types of argument is not difficult to understand but perhaps less easy to practice.  The story of Korach warns us of the negative nature of disagreement when fuelled by the wrong motives. The example of Hillel and Shammai remind us that there is an honourable way to disagree and seek out truth.

Vicky Fox is a member of NNLS


Torah Sparks

Now Korach, son of Izhar son of Kohat son of Levi, betook himself, along with Datan and Aviram sons of Eliav, and On son of Pelet, descendents of Reuben. (Bamidbar 16:1)

Rav said: On son of Pelet [who is not mentioned again after this verse] was saved by his wife. She said to him, “What does it matter to you? Whether the one [Moses] remains master or the other [Korach] becomes master, you are still no more than a follower.” He replied, “But what can I do? I have taken part in their counsel, and I have sworn to be with them.” She said, “Sit here, and I will save you.” She gave him wine to drink until he became intoxicated and put him to bed within the tent. Then she sat down at its entrance and loosened her hair. Whoever came [to summon him] saw her and retreated.

Meanwhile, Korah’s wife joined them [the rebels] and said to him [Korach], “See what Moses has done. He himself has become king; his brother he appointed High Priest; his brother’s sons he has made deputy High Priests. …. Moreover, he has had your hair cut off, and makes sport of you as though you were dirt, for he was jealous of your hair.” [The name Korach means “bald,” so this must have been a particularly touchy point.] He said to her, “But he has done the same to himself!” ..... Thus it is written, The wisest of women builds her house – this refers to the wife of On son of Pelet – but the foolish tears it down with her own hands (Mishlei 14:1) – this refers to Korach’s wife. (Sanhedrin 109b-110a)

The story of a pious man who was wed to a pious woman, and they did not beget children. Both said, “We are of no use whatever to the Holy One.” So he went ahead and divorced her. The husband then married a wicked woman, and she made him wicked, while the divorced wife went and married a wicked man, whom she made righteous. This proves that it all depends on the woman. (Bereisheit Rabbah 17:7)

The Holy One said to Moses, “Go speak to the daughters of Israel [and ask them] whether they wish to receive the Torah.” Why were the women asked first? Because the way of men is to follow the opinion of women. (Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer, chapter 41)

Sparks for Discussion

These texts suggest that even though women (at that time) had no public role in the community or its religious life, nevertheless they had great moral authority and influence over their husbands.

  • How do you feel about this?

  • Do you believe this was true in previous generations?

  • Do you believe it is true today?

  • What determines the moral and religious character of a family?

  • Mrs. On’s argument to her husband appears to be, “Do not get involved in politics unless you will benefit personally.” Do you think she said this only because her husband was involved in a rebellion or was it meant as a general rule?

  • Do you agree with her?

  • Do you think most people involved in politics have ulterior motives?


SHELACH LECHA

28th Sivan 5769 ~ 20th June 2009

By Alex Stein

Who'd be a spy? Damned if you do, damned if you don't, a life of intrigue seems to be a life of loneliness, far from the glamour with which the profession is depicted in the movies. The origins of spying are ancient, as is demonstrated in this week's parsha, in which the first Mossad agents strut their stuff. Moses sends Caleb & Co on a reconnaissance mission to Eretz Yisrael, hoping that they'll come back with encouraging news about the prospects of conquering it.

Their reports on returning from the land, however, are mixed. Caleb is confident, "We should go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it," the rest of the men less so: "We are not able to go up against the people; for they are stronger than we." Amidst stories of giants and the land devouring its inhabitants, the people begin to loose hope. God's punishment for this supposed lack of faith is severe – the whole generation of the spies, except for Caleb and Joshua, are condemned to dying in the desert. Who'd be a spy?

The traditional interpretation of this tale is that one should always have faith, even if the evidence sometimes suggests otherwise. However difficult the circumstances, one should always persevere in the knowledge that God will come through. What, then, was the point of them being sent to spy on the land? If faith is enough, why bother with intelligence, especially when the purpose of their mission seems to have been to rally the morale of the people, rather than to carefully plan for the attack?

In contemporary Israel, the dilemmas are no less acute. The critical question of the hour is what to do about Iran's nuclear programme. Is the only thing worse than a potentially disastrous attack on Iran a nuclear Iran? Or can we live with the Islamic Republic having the bomb? Should we have faith in the IAF's ability to do permanent damage to Iran's nuclear quest, or will this prove to be one mission too far for Israel's daring army?

Resh Lakish interprets Shelach Lecha to mean that Moses had discretion over whether to send the spies, and that God was not pleased by the decision. Again, faith should have sufficed. This is mistaken. The problem of the spies was a failure of interpretation, not of faith. They preferred to lose all hope rather than rationally assess the nature of the threat before them and respond accordingly. Whatever Israel (and the world) decides to do about Iran, it is to be hoped that they will be rational and wise. In doing so, we will be doing great honour to the traditions established by our people's first spies.  

Alex Stein is a former NOAM Movement worker and now lives in Israel


Torah Sparks

We saw the Nephilim there – the Anakites are part of the Nephilim – and we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them. (Bamidbar 13:33)

  • The Holy One said to the spies: You don’t know what you have just let your mouths utter. I am ready to put up with your saying we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves. But I do take offense at your asserting, and so we must have looked to them. Could you possibly know how I made you appear in their eyes? How do you know but that in their eyes you were like angels? (Tanhuma, Sh’lah)

  • This was one of the sins of the spies. We looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, okay, it is possible to understand [why they thought that], but and so we must have looked to them. What of it? What does it matter to you how you appear in the eyes of others? (Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, 1787-1854, Poland)

  • A person who worries about how others view him will have no rest. Regardless of what he does or does not do he will always be anxious about receiving the approval of others. Such a person makes his self-esteem dependent on the whims of others. It is a mistake to give others so much control over you. Keep your focus on doing what is right and proper... (Rabbi Zelig Pliskin, Growth Through Torah, 1988, p. 330)

Sparks for Discussion

All the commentators understand how a group of recently freed slaves would be terrified by the idea of fighting for their land and why they might consider themselves incapable of doing so. However, they define the assumption that the Canaanites shared that perception a sin. Why?

Is this simply a matter of self-esteem, how a person feels about him- or herself? Rabbi Zelig Pliskin says, “It is a mistake to give others so much control over you.” How much control does the opinion of other people (whether actual or projected) have over your behavior? Has “what will the neighbors think” ever caused you to do (or not do) something you might not have done otherwise? Do you believe other people’s opinions of you are likely to be positive or negative? Why? How do you judge other people?


BEHALOTACHA

21st Sivan 5769 ~ 13th June 2009

By Georgia Kaufmann

My daughter came home from Cheder last week and asked me why most Jews were right wing. She had formed this opinion after watching a succession of local, national and international elections. The question jolted me. If pushed I would say that Jews by default have a liberal, social conscience – as exemplified by the many Jewish activists who fought for black civil rights in the US in the 1960s. Take racism; we know where that leads, we live in the shadow of the gas chambers. But we are not immune to it ourselves.

In this week’s Sidrah Miriam is struck down by a disease and banished from the camp. This is God’s response to the following passage: When they were in Hazeroth, Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married: "He married a Cushite woman!"[Numbers 12:1]

If Miriam and Aaron just stated a fact why is Miriam punished? Nehama Leibowitz wondered what was Miriam’s sin. The answer to that is that basically she spoke against Moses. Although you could ask how was saying he married a Cushite woman speaking against him? Rashi argued that Miriam was angry that Moses had separated from Zipporah. In Avot Derabi Nathan Rabbi Shimon postulates that Miriam is angry at Moses for thinking he can do what he wants i.e. separate from Zipporah because he has God’s ear. Maybe the sin was not Miriam’s anger but the word she used: Cushite. Various meanings are ascribed to it: beautiful (Saadya Ha Gaon), family of Ham, Ethiopian (Rashbam), Beautiful Woman (Onkelos). But Jospeh Kaspi, a medieval commentator, says this is all nonsense: What was the Onkelos’ warrant for rendering the Hebrew adjective Kushit (Black or Ethiopian) as “beautiful” the very opposite of what was stated, black being opposite to white?..... I therefore maintain that the text bears no other interpretation but that Moses took a Cushite or Ethiopian woman. .. After Moses married Zipporah, he took another wife, an Ethiopian woman for reason best known to himself and it is not our business to pry into his motives [Leibowitz, Bemidbar, 1980. WZO.pp.130-1]

I think that Kaspi holds the key. The problem is the word Kushit which means Black. Miriam and Aaron were not objecting to Moses marrying again, that would not have been exceptional in those times for a powerful man, but for marrying a Black woman. The rest of their conversation can be translated loosely as: what makes you think that you are better than us, what makes you think that you can do anything you want, like marrying a black woman and get away with it.

To me what is most significant is God’s response, it is swift and cruel. Miriam is struck with a disease that leaves her white, scaly and impure. God does not hesitate to punish her for her racism. Only after Moses’s intercession is her punishment shortened to seven days, rather than being permanently cast out. I told my daughter that there is a straight line between God’s reaction, Hillel’s golden rule and the social conscience which I associate with Jewish thought. For me this is what is meant by being a light unto the nations.

Georgia Kaufmann is a member of KNMS


Torah Sparks

Aaron did so; he mounted the lamps at the front of the lampstand, as the Lord had commanded Moses. (Bamidbar 8:3)

A. To declare the praise of Aaron, that he did not act differently. (Rashi [Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki, 1040-1105, France])

B. Would it occur to you to think that Aaron would change and not do as God commanded? So why praise him for not changing? Even though Aaron rose to the highest level, to the position of high priest, he didn’t change his behaviour but remained the man he had been: involved with others, mixing with people, making peace between friend and friend and between husband and wife. This is the “praise of Aaron that he did not act differently” – he didn’t change himself. (Rabbi Meir of Premishlan, 1780-1850, Poland)

C. Although he had been privileged to attain such great honors, Aaron never changed. He did not become conceited or arrogant, but remained humble and meek as he had been before. (Attributed to Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Przysucha, 1765-1827, Poland)

D. The Kotzker and the Gaon of Vilna explain that there was no difference between the way he performed the commandment the first time and the way he performed it thereafter for the following 39 years, day after day. Each time, he felt the same enthusiasm and the commandment never became a matter of rote to him. (Emet ve-Emunah [author unknown])

Sparks for Discussion

Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Simcha Bunim understand that Aaron’s character and behaviour were not affected by his appointment as high priest – he remained involved with ordinary people and did not become arrogant.

  • How common do you think this is? We see many people who achieve success and fame in business, politics, sports, or entertainment who then become arrogant, believing that they are entitled to special treatment, that rules and laws don’t apply to them.
  • How can a person become a star without becoming arrogant? Emet ve-Emunah takes a different tack – Aaron never lost the enthusiasm for his position that he felt on the very first day.
  • Do you believe it is credible that Aaron never had a bad day, never felt sick, never had a fight with his wife and just wanted to stay in bed and be left alone? Perhaps we should praise Aaron for behaving as if his enthusiasm never flagged.
  • How does a person remain committed to a task or a relationship at those times when the enthusiasm is not there?
  • How do you rekindle the original fire?

NASO

14th Sivan 5769 ~ 6th June 2009

By Norman Bar

In Sidrah Naso we read that Moses is commanded to speak to the Bnei Yisra’el: 6 …... A man or woman who commits any of man’s sins, by committing a trespass against God, and that person shall become guilty - 7 and they shall confess their sin …. and make restitution for their guilt in full and add a fifth, and give it to the one towards whom they are guilty.” [Numbers 5: 5-7]

This is generally taken to refer to specific wrongdoings, essentially (Hertz volume 4 p.47) compensation for wrongs to another’s property or (Soncino p. 818) “robbery by violence” and (Rashi) “false swearing about the robbery,” Rambam (Maimonides) (quoted by Miller: Gutnick Chumash, Bemidbar p 38) refers to transgression of “any of the (Torah) mitzvos ... or a prohibition, either intentionally or unintentionally …” The text has inspired a note on making good after wrongdoing. Rambam writes comprehensively (Laws of Repentance) apropos the single positive commandment to confess and return to God after sinning, laying down rules for inter alia [1] confession to God [2] the importance of repentance i.e.” … forsaking sins … removing such thoughts from one's … thinking … resolving firmly never to do it again …. ” [3] asking forgiveness [4] confessing in public [5] making restitution. Significantly, he counsels the victim (a fortiori surely the non-victims) against being harsh and unforgiving.

How should one teach this to children? By example: at home, in fact anywhere. At cheder you can employ rôle play. You imitate being rude or pouring ink on a pupil’s clothes. Pupils will say, “Apologise.” You do so, but truculently. “O.K.?” “No! You didn’t mean it.” You apologise contritely, followed immediately by another insult. “You didn’t really mean it because you did it again straight away.” Thus Rambam’s requirements are teased out in simple stages.

These rules are vital both in private life, with its many broygases, and in public. Public role models often flatly deny personal responsibility, perhaps admitting at most a fault “in the system”, followed by the deflective and reproving, “Don’t dwell on the past, we must draw a line and move on.”: as though asking for acknowledgement of personal wrongdoing and restitution betrays ipso facto an unhealthy preoccupation with the past: we are not helped by such vindictive and confrontational non-victims as the media and politicians, for whom such acknowledgment is almost invariably a derisible weakness.

Saying sorry meaningfully can be painful. Even so, are words enough? Should there not be some act, even where restitution to the wronged person may not obviously be required, e.g. a sincere apology for rudeness and a firm resolution not to repeat the misdeed? Perhaps we should always do more than apologise, do something, even if not for the wronged person, perform some act as our own, small, personal, additional contribution towards tikkun olam. We could perform an additional mitzvah, maybe a donation to charity over and above what we’d otherwise give, maybe do some voluntary work. And, if possible, anonymously – now that is hard!

Norman Bar is a member of NNLS


Torah Sparks

“May the Lord lift His face upon you and grant you peace” (Numbers 6:26)

Discussion

  • God’s holy name appears in each of the three stanzas of the Priestly Blessing. Besides the Name (ha-shem is the Hebrew word for “the Name”), the only term repeated in the blessing is the word “face.” (In Hebrew, the word for face is panim. In this blessing, the word is panav, which means “His face.”) We ask God to cause His face to shine upon us, and then to lift up His face to us. But does God have a face?
  • Of course, the blessing is based on a metaphor. God does not really have a face. But the word “face” is important. The first insight comes from the Hebrew. The word panim is always in the plural, literally “faces.” Why is that significant?
  • Perhaps the reason is that none of us has just one face. We present the world with a certain face when we are happy, another when we are angry, another when we are frightened and yet another when we are sad. We often present one face to the world and another to our family. Perhaps we have one face for business and another for leisure. Each of us has many faces. Therefore, face in Hebrew is always plural.
  • However, perhaps there is another reason why face is always plural. Faces always come in pairs because without another person (or a mirror) no one sees our face, we certainly don’t. Two people meet face to face. The word face is about an encounter with another. My face comes into being when it meets another face, when I really stand in the presence and see the other.
  • The human face is meant to be encountered. That is why so many muscles control our smile. Scholars say we have eyebrows so people can recognize our expression from a distance. Why is being in the presence of another’s face so important for our human identity? Why do email users have emoticons which were modelled after faces? Have we lost something when we do most of our communication by phone or email?

MISHPATIM

Shabbat  Shekalim

27th Shevat 5769 ~ 21st February 2009

By Harriet Oppenheimer

Last week in Yitro Moses appointed leaders and judges of bnei Israel and this week in Mishpatim God gives bnei Israel, through Moses, the first volume of our laws on social justice. With judges and a legal framework we have the beginnings of our society.  And this legal framework in Mishpatim begins with the laws of how we deal with slaves.

The psychology of this is interesting – bnei Israel have only just escaped from slavery in Egypt, and have little in the way of belongings or wealth, and one might think that our primary concern is for survival.  Yet God understands that it is never too early in a people’s history to give them the laws of social justice; perhaps if God had waited until such laws were manifestly needed, it would have been too late.  God does, however, understand that the laws need to have some immediate relevance to bnei Israel, and one thing that bnei Israel know a lot about at this point in our history is slavery. Perhaps this is why the laws start with slavery.

And this is precisely the reason that is given for why we should not wrong or oppress strangers – for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Eqypt.  Why the repetition?  Why state both that we have been strangers, and that we know the feelings of being a stranger?  It is important not just to have events happen to us, but to really experience them.  It is this that enables us to see life from each others’ perspective, to walk in another person’s shoes, to see each person as equal at a fundamental, human level.
 

This is reflected in the rest of the laws of Mishpatim.  The defining principle of much of the legal framework that follows is justice for all. Restitution should be based on the value of what has been lost, rather than what can be extorted from the other party. God will not tolerate ill-treatment of the defenceless in society – widows or orphans.  In any legal dispute, we must not be biased towards either the party with the greatest social status or the weaker party.

Perhaps the reason why God only chooses to give us our legal framework once we have experienced slavery is that this inheritance is the beginning of our ability to see beyond our immediate selves. Before this we were not sufficiently mature as a people to take on this social responsibility. And it is also significant to look at the language of how bnei Israel accepts God’s laws.  We will do they say twice.  And then finally we will do and we will understand.  The implication is that the act of doing, of living through an experience, gives us the real knowledge to understand the principles underlying our framework of social justice.  Living life alongside our fellow people gives us the insight and empathy to see life from their perspective, which in turn reinforces our intention to uphold justice in all our dealings.

By Harriet Oppenheimer is a member of Assif


Mishnat Hashavua: Beitzah 2:1

By Rabbi Daniel Nevins

When a yom tov (festival) falls right before Shabbat, a person may not intentionally cook on yom tov for Shabbat. However, he may cook for yom tov, and if there are leftovers, eat them on Shabbat. And he may cook a dish beforetovrely on it for Shabbat [see comments]. The Shammai Institute teaches that this requires two cooked dishes, but the Hillel Institute says one cooked dish [suffices]. And they agree that a cooked fish or an egg is like two cooked dishes. If he ate it or lost it, he should not rely on it to cook more food. But if even a bit of the food was left, he can use it to prepare more food for Shabbat.

Comments

Rabbinic law allows cooking food on yom tov [Pesah, Shavu'ot, Rosh Hashanah, and Sukkot], but only for yom tov. What, then, will one eat on the day immediately following Shabbat? This Mishnah describes a rabbinic loophole called the “eruv tavshilin” (which is nearly impossible to translate). An eruv is a legal device that “mixes” different domains so that activities permitted in one domain can be extended to another domain. In this case, the eruv is a dish of cooked food. By cooking some food for Shabbat before yom tov [for example, on Thursday, when Friday is yom tov] and saving that food until Shabbat, any subsequent cooking during yom tov for Shabbat is viewed as just an enhancement of the already prepared meal. It is a stretch, but it remains Jewish practice even today!

Questions

Jewish festivals are meant to be extra joyous, which is why cooking is permitted. Why didn’t that permission extend to Shabbat?

How do you understand the mechanism of eruv tavshilin since it technically turns all Shabbat food into leftovers, does that diminish the honour of Shabbat?

Does this loophole enhance our awareness of sacred time or trivialize it?

 


YITRO

20th Shevat 5769 ~ 14th February 2009

By Allan Myers

If you’re reading this during the Torah reading, you may just have heard two contradictory statements. Each person called to the reading of the Torah says the blessing which ends, “noten hatorah”, “Blessed are you, O Lord, the giver of Torah”. I’m not sure what that phrase means but I think it implies that we should regard the Torah as our guiding document.

Previously, we all sang, “v’atem hadveikim bashem elokeichem, hayim kulchem hayom”, “Those of you who have held fast to the Lord your God, all are alive today”. This tells us that we should cleave to God, not to Torah.

This week’s sedra describes how God communicated with the people. Although, traditionally, we were all standing at Sinai, it is difficult to understand what the nature of the communication was and how its result became the Torah.

Abraham Joshua Heschel describes it thus: “man was told [at Sinai] that God is concerned with the affairs of man….that not only does man need God, God is in need of man”. So God needed us to write down His law – the question is, how accurately did we do it?

Depending on your place in the Jewish spectrum, you may hold one of six views:

  1. The Torah comprises the exact words of God

  2. God dictated His will, which was written down by humans

  3. Humans wrote the Torah, but they were divinely inspired

  4. The Torah is the human account of the encounter between God and Israel The Torah is God’s will written by human beings

  5. Humans wrote the Torah and it is not divine.

So, when we say the blessing, “noten hatorah”, which of the above acts of giving do we understand?

If our view is one of the earlier statements listed above, we may encounter problems with some of the contradictions in the Torah, the variations in some of the accounts of what happened and the similarities to stories appearing in earlier traditions.

The further down the list we go, however, the more we attribute human input to the Torah and the further we are from the divine – hardly a position where we can “cleave to God”.

These are not easy questions to answer. Some of us will have heard this Torah reading sixty, seventy or eighty times. How does our repeated hearing of the act of Revelation improve our understanding of it? Do we need to consult commentators, academics, rabbis or philosophers to understand what happened or do we eventually develop our own understanding of it?

The challenge we face is to refine our understanding of Torah during this life. We can only do that by engaging in study. So, in the words of Hillel, “Go and learn!”

Allan Myers is a member of KNMS


Mishnat Hashavua: Sukkah 3:1

By Rabbi Daniel Nevins

Do mitzvot require background checks?

A stolen lulav, or one that is all dried out, is invalid [for use to fulfill the mitzvah of waving the four species of palm, myrtle, willow, and etrog on Sukkot]. If it comes from an ahsera [a tree used for idolatry] or an idolatrous city, it is invalid. If its tip is cut off, or its leaves are split, it is invalid. If its leaves are separated, it is valid. Rabbi Yehudah says that he should tie it above. Stone palms from Mt. Barzel are valid [despite being short]. A lulav that is at least three hand breadths, and thus long enough to shake, is valid.

Comments

The Torah (Lev. 23:40) commands the Israelites to “take for yourselves on the first day [of Sukkot]” four species that were identified as palm, myrtle, willow, and the etrog. These plants are held together and waved in thanksgiving for the harvest. But what if the objects used in this ritual were stolen, or came from a place of idolatry, or were damaged goods? This Mishnah (and those that follow it) establishes a high standard of integrity for the materials used in this popular ritual.

Questions

Our Mishnah raises troubling questions about religious rituals—it is apparently not enough to do the ritual in the designated fashion. We must be concerned with the origin of the materials used in our rite—what laws and morals were compromised to obtain these goods? What standards are necessary to serve God with integrity? In our day, similar questions are emerging regarding kashrut. What moral and religious standards do we apply to our food beyond its ritual kashrut?


BESHALLACH

Shabbat Shira

13th Shevat 5769 ~ 7th February 2009

By David Kosky

Each year on Shabbat Shirah we have a disagreement in our Shul. Some wish to join with the Ba'al Koreh in the beautiful melody of the Shir Shel Yam. Some maintain that the correct minhag is for the Ba'al Koreh to read on his own. On occasion the Ba'al Koreh has stopped until those seeking to join in desist.

As one brought up in the tradition of the Ba'al Koreh having the field to himself I decided to find out who was correct. Perhaps unsurprisingly both are.

According to Tractate Sotah, the Rabbis themselves had at least three opinions. "On that day Rabbi Akiva expounded: when the Israelites ascended from the Red Sea they wanted to sing a song. How did they sing it? Like an adult who reads the Hallelthey respond after him with the leading word. "According to this explanation Moses said, I will sing to the Lord and they responded, I will sing to the Lord. Moses said, For he has triumphed gloriously and they responded, I will sing to the Lord.

Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Jose the Galilean said: It was like a child who reads Hallel and they repeat after him all that he says. Moses said, I will sing to the Lord and they responded, I will sing to the Lord. Moses said, for he has triumphed gloriously, and they responded, for he has triumphed gloriously.

Rabbi Nehemiah said: It was like a school teacher who recites the Shema in the Synagogue. He begins first and they respond after him."

The Talmud records differences in the way the Shirah was said in the Synagogue. According to some traditions, the Ba'al Koreh began and the community responded with specific words. In other traditions the community repeated each line.

The custom of joining in with the Ba'al Koreh springs not so much from the correct or incorrect manner of recitation but from a desire that the community should share the experience of Israel's miraculous deliverance through Yeshuat Hashem. It is as if we wish to re-enact the experience of deliverance and to imagine that we too may one day be redeemed. By singing and responding we participate in the celebration of our salvation. What matters is not how it's done but that it should be done enthusiastically and that the voice of the Ba'al Koreh express the voice of the entire community.

This year in our shul my daughter will be leyning the Shirah on her Batmitzvah. My hope is that her voice reflect not only the joy of her own prospective redemption but that of the Community and of all Israel.

David Kosky is a member of EMS


Mishnat Hashavua: Yoma 6:8

By Rabbi Daniel Nevins

Was the scapegoat "to Azazael" of the Yom Kippur rite ceremony symbolic or magical?

They would tell the high priest, "the goat has reached the wilderness" [indicating that he could proceed with the service]. But how did they know that it had reached the wilderness? There were scouts who waived signals [as it passed] to inform [the priests] that the goat had reached the wilderness. Rabbi Yehudah says it was quite a system they had—from Jerusalem to Beit Hidudo [the edge of the wilderness] was three mil. The scouts walked one mil [with the goat] then returned the mil and waited an equal time, and thus they knew that the goat had reached the wilderness. Rabbi Yishmael says, but wasn’t there a different notification system? A crimson cloth was hung from the sanctuary door, and when the goat reached the wilderness, it would turn white, as it says, "Though your sins be like crimson, they shall become white as snow" (Isa. 1:18).

Comments Of the many strange ceremonies in Judaism, few can match that of the scapegoat ritual described above. Some speculate that it reflects an era when Israelites were torn between worship of the Lord and the worship of goat demons (See Lev. 17:7, and the comments of Nachmanides there and in Lev. 16:8). However, the scapegoat came to symbolize the purification of Israel from sin on Yom Kippur. This Mishnah focuses on the question of how the priest knew that the ritual was complete, and that the goat had fallen from a designated cliff in the desert. Rabbi Yehudah and Rabbi Yishmael, living after the temple had been destroyed, debate whether the priests relied on a clever relay system or rather, a miracle. This raises the question of memory—are the sages debating what actually happened in the temple, or rather what should have happened, based upon their interpretation of the Bible?

Questions: How do you relate to the scapegoat ritual? Is it a powerful symbol of the expiation of sin, a dubious quasi-magical rite, or simply another mitzvah of the Torah?


BO

6th Shevat 5769 ~ 31st January 2009

By Vicky Fox

This week’s parsha describes the final three plagues- locusts, darkness and killing of the first born - of the ten in total that God sent to persuade Pharaoh to let His people go and the start of the exodus from Egypt.   There are a series of commandments in the parsha loosely connected by the importance of remembering the exodus from Egypt.

One of those commandments can be found in chapter 13 of Shemot (Exodus), verse 8:

"And you shall explain to your child on that day [Pesach] “it is because of what the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt”

The Torah uses the verb “Ve’ higgadata” meaning you shall tell or explain and you may recognise the same root in the name of the book that we read at Pesach on Seder nights – the Haggadah.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (communal rabbi and commentator living in mid 19th century Germany) explains that these verses mean that we are to speak of God not as the God of our nation, or of our ancestors but as our God.  He says that if we want to raise our children as Jews, we must first try to become knowledgeable Jews ourselves.  Our children will learn far more from watching us live as Jews than if we tell the story of Pesach only as a memory of the past.  By making the Pesach story our story, we show our children that the past has ongoing meaning in our lives today. 

This and other similar commandments to tell our children about the exodus show us the importance of remembering and the nature of Jewish education.   Education is not simply about transmitting information but about leading by example and by becoming the knowledgeable Jew that Rabbi Hirsch speaks of.

Sir Jonathan Sacks,
[Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth] takes this understanding one step further and explains education as our route to freedom.  Freedom, he says, is not about winning battles or political power; it is about teaching the next generation and passing on our beliefs and ideals.   Thus, every generation takes part in the exodus from Egypt by teaching the next generation. Each new generation has the opportunity to learn from the past.

Three times in this parsha, Moses tells the people of their duty to pass on the memory of the exodus.  As he gathers the people on the brink of freedom from slavery, Moses talks not about victory over Pharaoh or the promised land, but about education.  Small wonder then, that our greatest leader was not known as Moses our hero, Moses our King or our prophet but as Moshe Rabbenu – Moses our teacher.

Thus memory is important, not only for ourselves, but as a way to pass on a system of beliefs and values to the next generation.

A question for all of us to consider whilst listening to these verses in synagogue is how we as members of a family, as members of a community will choose to live our lives and with what values so as to pass the meaning of the exodus on to the next generation?

Vicky Fox is a member of NNLS


Mishnat Hashavua: Shekalim 1:1

By Rabbi Daniel Nevins

What preparations are needed for the Jewish community to begin a new year?

On the first of Adar [i.e., the last Hebrew month] they make proclamations regarding the shekel tax and kilayim [the prohibition of mixed vegetable gardens]. On the fifteenth [of Adar, i.e., Shushan Purim] they read the Megillah in [walled] cities and begin to repair the roads, plazas, and mikva’ot [ritual baths], and attend to all public works, and mark the graves, and send forth inspectors regarding kilayim.

Comments

The Torah (Exod. 30:12) commands the collection of a half-shekel poll tax from every male over twenty. While this may have been a one-time tax, later generations mandated its collection every year by the first of Nisan for the maintenance of the temple, and to pay for the daily sacrifices on behalf of the nation. One month prior to the due date, the government reminded people to pay the tax, and also adjured farmers to inspect their fields to remove forbidden mixtures that might have grown together over the winter. By Purim the raining season was over, and only a month remained until Pesah. Thus, it was important to clear the paths and plazas that would be used by pilgrims, and to help them be ritually pure by refilling ritual baths and refreshing the lime markers that indicated the presence of a grave. Stepping over a grave would render a person impure, and thus unable to enter the temple or eat the paschal lamb.

Questions

1.      Even today, when there is no temple, nor pilgrimage rite, it takes great effort to prepare for Passover. What are the responsibilities of the Jewish community to help people prepare for the holiday?

2.      Who has assumed responsibility for the ritual needs of the public? Is the synagogue responsible for the observance of the Jewish public, even beyond its membership?

3.       In ancient times they collected a poll tax from every male adult. Should our Jewish community have a token membership fee for every adult? What would be the consequences, good or bad, of such a system?


VAERA

28th Tevet 5769 ~ 24th January 2009

By Reli Israeli

At the beginning of Parshat Vaera, God tells Moshe that He will take the Children of Israel out of the slavery of Egypt and bring them to the Promised Land. Following this we are told that “They [the Children of Israel] did not listen to Moshe due to impatience of spirit and hard work” (Exodus 6:9). The Commentators provide various reasons for why they were unwilling to listen. Some suggest a fear of Pharaoh and his people. Some say that the Israelites could not overcome their mindset of being perpetual slaves, whilst others focus on an overall lack of spirituality, trust and belief. One thing is clear – Moshe was not only taking the People of Israel out of Egypt physically, he was also leading them towards a new era of independence and strength.

When we imagine a good leader, we often think about those who withstood outside threats. We are all looking for someone who will represent us externally, take care of our relations with our neighbours, create and maintain peace. The opening of this Parsha shows us that being this type of leader is not easy, but another, perhaps even greater challenge, is to be a leader who connects with the people themselves.

Moshe's time as a shepherd could be viewed as part of his training for a leadership role. A shepherd uses his sensitivity and knowledge of his flock to lead them to pasture in the morning and bring them home at the end of the day. A shepherd leads his sheep with the help of a flute, he leads with a melody. The shepherd's biggest challenge is to lead with a gathering, containing and loving approach, rather than with an aggressive style. The shepherd's love for his herd ensures that he is always looking to keep his flock together. Those on the edges of the flock who are wandering off in different direction are brought back into the fold. It is especially those who are on the periphery that must be brought, by the leader, back into the herd.

It is no secret that in these past years, Israeli society has faced a leadership crisis. Next month, the election for the 18th Knesset will take place and, as ever, Israelis are looking around for a real leader. There is a need for someone who, not only has a vision and can lead without hesitation, but also someone who can listen and unify us. Gaining people's trust and creating unity will always be an important task for a new leader, even for someone as great as Moshe. We don't have a leader of Moshe Rabbeinu's stature, and our society is more fractured than the people of Israel were in Egypt. But leadership with humility, understanding and the faith of the people would be a good place to start.

Reli Israeli is the Jewish Agency Shlicha to the Masorti Movement


Mishnat Hashavua: Pesahim 3:4

Rabbi Daniel Nevin What precautions are necessary to prevent dough from becoming chametz?

Rabban Gamliel says that three women may knead [dough for matzah] together, then bake it in one oven, one after another. But the sages say that three women may work together on dough, one kneading while another forms loaves and one bakes them. Rabbi Akiva says, not all women, nor all woods, nor all ovens are equally [efficient]. This is a general practice: if the dough starts to rise, douse it in cold water [to slow it down].

Comments

The Torah warns “you should guard the matzot” (Exod. 12:17), which leads to unusual precautions at every stage of the preparation of matzah. Our Mishnah gives a window into the daily lives of women working collectively in preparing for this festival. Rabban Gamliel seems most lenient, allowing them to work together through the entire process, whereas the sages prescribe a more efficient assembly-line production, lest the dough turn to chametz while waiting to be baked. Rabbi Akiva reminds us that even efficient models like that of the sages may be slowed by differential efficiency among the workers and their equipment. The “cooling” method described here indicates experience with such inefficiencies and the attempt to salvage the dough from becoming worthless as chametz. Later halakhah (See Shulhan Arukh O.H. 459:2 in comments of Mishnah Brurah) establishes a fixed limit of eighteen minutes from when the flour is first moistened until when it must be put in the oven.

Questions

1. How do you imagine the sages forming their opinions—from logic or direct observation?

2. Can you defend Rabban Gamliel’s position? Why did the later law codify the time limit according to the clock?

3. The race to produce matzah is meant to simulate the haste of the Exodus. Should we find new ways to simulate this experience even today when we buy our matzah? Would it be better to make our own?


SHEMOT

21st Tevet 5769 ~ 17th January 2009

Deborah Silver

“What’s in a name?  That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet…”  Romeo & Juliet, William Shakespeare, Act II Scene I

The second book of the Tanach is called Shemot – ‘Names’ – because it opens with a list of the ‘names’ of the children of Israel who went down to Egypt.  But the theme of names works through the book in a much deeper way.  Further down in the sidrah, and again next week, God tells Moses God’s name. 

In the fourth aliyah we read the scene at the burning bush, in which God calls Moses to his mission.  Moses asks, understandably enough, who he should say is calling, and, furthermore, points out that the children of Israel will want to know who exactly this ‘God of their ancestors’ is.  God replies:

“I shall be what I shall be: say this to the children of Israel: ‘I shall be’ sent me to you.”

We can almost hear God pause at this point: the next verse contains a reformulation: 

“Say this to the children of Israel: the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob sent me to you: this is my everlasting name, and this is my title, from generation to generation.”

In the event, it is unclear whether either formulation gets used.  It is Aaron, not Moses, who tells the children of Israel what took place at the burning bush, and all we know about that incident is that Aaron told them, ‘all the words that Adonai had spoken to Moses’.   

But the formula, ‘the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob’ has a familiar ring.  It occurs only once in the whole Tanach, but it was placed by the anonymous liturgists of our tradition in the first paragraph of the Amidah.  Every time we say it we are hyperlinked to the scene at the burning bush, in which God, in God’s own words, tells us who God really is. 

Does it matter?  Names don’t seem to be important to Juliet: as she points out, if a rose was called a thistle, it would still smell just as sweet. But knowing, and using, someone’s true name is an act of the profoundest intimacy.  When we call someone the name they call themselves, we are forging a relationship based on the fact that we hold what they perceive to be their true identity in our hands. By their name shall we know them.

As we read the book of Shemot it is easy to be carried away by its spectacle, its miracles, the fire and thunder of Sinai.  But just as important is the subliminal theme of knowing.  If we are sensitive, we can discern the resonance of the love that can only come from self-disclosure.  When we read Shemot, and when we pray, we might do well to be alive to God’s invitation to greater intimacy.  

Deborah Silver  is a rabbinic student at the University of Judaism LA and a member of Assif


Mishnat Hashavua: Eruvin 4:2

Rabbi Daniel Nevins

What if you get caught outside the Shabbat boundary on Friday afternoon?

It happened once that [a group of Jews travelling by boat on Friday afternoon] did not reach port before dark. They asked Rabban Gamliel, “May we disembark?” He told them, “You may, for I have already calculated and seen that we were within the boundary before it grew dark.”

Comments 

Rabbinic law permitted a Jew to walk up to two thousand cubits from the city on Shabbat. This distance could be extended by placing a meal at the limit before Shabbat, thereby extending one’s domain another two thousand cubits. However, if one wound up outside the Shabbat limits, he or she was supposed to stay put, moving no more than four cubits (about seven feet) until the end of Shabbat. Our Mishnah tells a story in which the travellers arrive in port after Shabbat begins. Are they considered within the city, and therefore permitted to disembark and move around, or must they stay put on the boat until Saturday night? Rabban Gamliel, who employed some sort of mechanical device for calculating distances (as recounted in the Talmud), gave a lenient answer—they had entered the two-thousand-cubit limit of the port before Shabbat began and could therefore disembark.

Questions 

1.      What do you suppose is the purpose of the two-thousand-cubit restriction on Shabbat movement?

2.      Do the loopholes of Eruvin undermine this purpose, or do they allow greater freedom and enjoyment on Shabbat?

3.      In our day, do mechanical adaptations, such as using timers, undermine Shabbat or reinforce its legal significance and enjoyment?

4.     What does this story tell us about the relationship between Rabban Gamliel and his fellow voyagers? Do you think Rabban Gamliel made his decision based on his objective calculations, or was he motivated to find an avenue of exemption for his travelling companions?

From: The Jewish Theological Seminary, New York. More can be found on their web-site www.jtsa.edu


VAYECHI

14th Tevet 5769 ~ 10th January 2009

Shabbat begins in London at 15.57 and ends at 17.06

Rachel Ingram

Vayechi, the portion relating to the death Jacob and Joseph is in many ways the climax of Genesis. Despite the sombre tone we might expect, Vayechi means ‘aliveness’ and although these chapters focus on death and burial we should read between the lines: Vayechi is a celebration of Jacob’s legacy. It is here that Jacob’s sons and grandsons are given their identities as the twelve tribes of Israel, and it is in this portion that the narrative shifts from the story of a family to the beginning of a nation. As Jacob Neusner succinctly put it: ‘the history of the individual leads the way to the national history of Israel’.

We begin with Jacob’s deathbed scene. He has been reunited with his long-lost son Joseph who he charges to bury him back in Canaan, not near his beloved wife Rachel on the way to Ephrat or in his adopted home of Egypt to receive the adulation of the Egyptians, but to take his body to the place where Abraham, Sarah and Leah are buried, in the country where the future of the Children of Israel lies. It is not enough to extract a promise from Joseph, he makes him swear ‘beneath my thigh’, as Rashi explained: ‘on the covenant of circumcision’. This is not just a deathbed request from a father to a son, it reflects the development of God’s plans for Israel and the strengthening of the covenant made with Abraham and Isaac. Perhaps this is a reminder to Joseph, now second in command to Pharaoh, where his own family’s future will lie: ‘and God will be with you and He will return you to the land of your forefathers’ (48:20).

Jacob is now 147 years of age and blind. Although Joseph’s gathering of his family to his bed has many parallels to Isaac’s deathbed scene (Genesis 35:28-29), Isaac was not dying when he gave his sons their birthright. Here, Jacob blesses his sons and grandsons with the full knowledge that he is about to die, his message to them heightened by what Avivah Zornberg describes as ‘the mythic fascination of the deathbed’. It is bittersweet that only in approaching death does Jacob realise, despite all the loss and hardships he and his family have endured, his own life was also blessed.

Jacob wishes to disclose the ‘end of days’, the eschaton, to each of his offspring, naming the twelve tribes they will lead, praising and rebuking the conduct of each son. But with the climax of this dramatic scene, Jacob gets his predictions wrong: the shekhinah – the presence of God - has left him and the ‘end of days’ is no longer in his power to tell. The future he ascribes to the twelve tribes is not what comes to pass. But do the Israelites need their future told? It is the Egyptians and not the Children of Israel who should hold stock in divining what will come to pass. As we have seen again and again throughout Genesis, it is not man who knows the destiny of the children of Israel, but God: ‘God will surely remember you, and bring you up out of this land to the land of which He swore to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’ (50:24). The Israelites must remember their covenant if they are to thrive and survive in exile.

Rachel Ingram is a member of NLS


Mishnat Hashavua: Shabbat 6:4

Rabbi Daniel Nevins

What may one carry on Shabbat? Are weapons like jewellery or like tools?

A man must not go out [of the house on Shabbat] bearing a sword, nor a bow, nor a shield, nor a lance nor a spear. And if he did go out [with one of these] he is liable for a sin offering [because he has violated the final Shabbat labour, carrying]. Rabbi Eliezer says, “these are his ornaments” [like clothing or jewellery, and therefore he should be allowed to wear them]. But the Sages say [he is liable, because these are not ornaments. Rather,] these [weapons] are shameful; as it says, (Isaiah 2:4), “they shall beat their swords into plough shares and their spears into pruning-hooks, and nation shall not lift up sword against nation, and they will not learn war any more.”

Comments

The Torah is maddeningly vague about the definition of the “work” which is forbidden on Shabbat. It explicitly forbids burning fires (Exodus 35:2), and relates the story of a man executed for gathering firewood on Shabbat (Numbers 15:32). Beyond that, the Rabbis were left to interpret the juxtaposition of verses for hints of what precisely was considered work. By studying the construction of the Tabernacle, they discovered thirty-nine forms of work that were, by comparison, therefore forbidden on Shabbat. These categories are listed in Mishnah Shabbat 7:2. The final of the thirty-nine categories is carrying an object more than four cubits (about seven feet) from one domain to another (e.g., from the house to the street). One of the many challenges in defining work is that a person’s intention can determine whether an activity is permitted or forbidden. Our Mishnah seeks to determine whether carrying a weapon is like wearing an ornament, and therefore permitted, or more like carrying a tool, and therefore forbidden. Rabbi Eliezer takes the former position, but the sages reject the notion that weapons can ever be considered ornaments for a Jew.

Questions

Does the Isaiah verse prove the sages’ point? How so? Would it help Rabbi Eliezer’s position if the weapon were non-utilitarian (e.g., a symbolic sword like the Kirpan worn by Sikh men today)? What about a soldier or guard? Is his or her weapon permitted as an ornament, or is it permitted because of pikuah nefesh, the obligation to protect life?

During the Hasmonean revolt, the pious Maccabees initially refused to fight on Shabbat. After their towns were massacred, they decided that fighting in self-defence was permitted. This same policy is followed today by the Israel Defence Forces. Should soldiers be allowed to carry their weapons into synagogue on Shabbat?

This is taken with kind permission from: The Jewish Theological Seminary, New York. More can be found on their website http://www.jtsa.edu.


VAYIGASH

 

7th Tevet 5769 ~ 3rd January 2009

By Michael Wegier

This week's Parsha tells of the whole scale 'exodus' by Jacob's tribe from Canaan (later named Israel) to Egypt where they will live out the remaining five years of the famine in the fertile territory of Goshen under the very considerable protection of Joseph. Of course they will stay considerably more than five years and after a generation will begin to undergo the process of enslavement until Moses will emerge under God's guidance to lead them back to the Promised Land.

Vayigash offers two very different models of Israelite leader who have bequeathed legacies to us which offer paradigms for Jewish living and leadership - Joseph and Judah.  Joseph's forced entry into Egypt has led him to a place where he has extraordinary wealth and privilege. Joseph often leaves the reader uncomfortable even as we admire his ascent. Why did he never search out his father once he had achieved such power? Why as his brothers eventually go and fetch Jacob, does he shower his full brother Benjamin with far more gifts than anyone else? How is that for a lesson unlearned! Yet despite these unanswered questions, Joseph is the model of the future Jewish leader who will seek power and influence in a Gentile environment. Sometimes this will be achieved in order to help advance Jewish interests and sometimes it is a rejection of their Jewishness.    

In many ways, Judah is the far more interesting personality. He quickly emerges as the most powerful brother, usurping the eldest, Reuben in this role. It is Judah who orchestrates the selling of Joseph to the Ishmalites.  Judah too leaves his family (by choice) and ends up being taught a powerful moral lesson about honesty and responsibility by his daughter-in-law Tamar. In the reconciliation narrative with Joseph, it is Judah who demonstrates the power of Teshuva (Repentance) and responsibility. He emerges as an extremely eloquent and sophisticated diplomat whose every move is aimed at strengthening his family's interest. This is another type of Jewish leader who will engage with the "authorities" with the single-minded goal of serving the Jewish people.

Jacob has come to recognize this talent and loyalty. On the way to join Joseph in Egypt he sends Judah ahead to "point out the way".  Some scholars make much of the connection between the root of the verb "Leharot" with the word Torah. In this reading, Judah is a Torah scholar who goes ahead to prepare a school in their new community in exile. Let us not be over concerned with the historicity of this Midrashic reading. It points to a bigger truth that leadership in a Jewish community cannot only focus on power with regard to the authorities. It also requires men and women with passion to act on behalf of the education of the community.  Judah comes to represent the capacity for change that Teshuva can bring and its impact on his commitment to serve his people.

Great Jewish leadership must always navigate between the models of Judah and Joseph and not let one overly dominate the other.

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


Mishnat Hashavua: Bikkurim 3:7

By Rabbi Daniel Nevins

How do we balance the integrity of a ritual with the need to invite participation by the masses?

Originally, they used to allow any [farmer] who wished to recite the passage [i.e., the lengthy first-fruits declaration from Deuteronomy 26:5 in Hebrew] to recite. But for those who didn’t know how to recite, the [priests] would recite [and the farmers would repeat the words]. The [less educated farmers] stopped bringing the fruits [to avoid being humiliated in this way]. So it was decreed that the priests would recite for both those who knew and those who didn’t know.

Comments 

The Torah describes a first-fruit ritual in which the farmer must present the basket of fruit to the priest in Jerusalem and recite, "My father was a wandering Aramean . . . " The Torah is so explicit that the rabbis understand this to be one of the few liturgies that must be said in Hebrew. But apparently Jewish farmers had trouble memorizing the texts. The original system created two classes: literate farmers who proudly chanted the text, and ignorant farmers who had to repeat after the priest like little schoolchildren. This public humiliation was deemed intolerable, and many farmers simply stopped bringing their first fruits to the Temple. In response, the entire ritual was adapted and made "user-friendly."

Question

  1. This Mishnah has also had a major impact on the format of our Torah service. Originally those called for aliyot were expected to chant from the scroll with only the ignorant relying on a substitute reader. The current practice of appointing an expert reader for all congregants alike is meant to spare less literate Jews from being humiliated. What does this teach us about the purpose of public prayer?

  2. How did the sages protect both the integrity of the liturgy and the dignity of the participants?

  3. How can we maintain the same balance today?

This is taken with kind permission from: The Jewish Theological Seminary, New York. More can be found on their website: http://www.jtsa.edu.


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