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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
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:
-
The Torah
comprises the exact words of God
-
God
dictated His will, which was written down by humans
-
Humans
wrote the Torah, but they were divinely inspired
-
The Torah
is the human account of the encounter between God and
Israel The Torah is God’s will written by human beings
-
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
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
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
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
“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
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
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
-
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?
-
How did the sages
protect both the integrity of the liturgy and the
dignity of the participants?
-
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.
To access 'Reflections' from
previous years
please click on the link below:
Reflections 2006
Reflections 2007
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