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KI
TISSA Shabbat Parah
20th Adar 5770 ~ 6th March
2010
By Markus Lange
“When you take a census of the
Israelite people (bnei-Israel) according to their enrolment,
every person shall pay the LORD a ransom for himself (v’na’tenu
ish kopher naphsho l’Adonai) … a half-shekel as an offering to
the LORD.” (Exodus 30:12,13)
In Parashat Ki Tissa we hear
about the half-shekel. Everybody gives an equal contribution to
the foundations of the structure of Mishkan, the travelling
sanctuary, God’s mobile home. No distinction is made between
rich and poor. The half-shekel contributions are designated to
go for the sockets for the poles of the Mishkan.
Of course from the half-shekel
alone the Mishkan could not be built, obviously more funds were
needed. And further, both the rich and the poor giving the same
amount sounds unfair. Therefore I suggest: let us understand the
Half-Shekel symbolically. All are meant to carry out the project
of building the ‘House of God’ together—supportively,
emotionally, proudly—in ways different from material abilities
and means.
What does the Torah tell us
about the half-shekel? What does it do before and beyond going
into the supportive elements of the building? The ritual and
spiritual function of the half-shekel is that of kapparah,
understood to mean ‘ransom’, ‘expiation’, ‘purification’,
‘cleansing’ in a physical sense. On an emotional level one can
say, kapparah makes you feel good—good about the ritual you have
just performed, about yourself, about the task ahead.
We see, the monetary aspect
does not matter so much; rather the half-shekel highlights a
spiritual quality. The foundations of the Mishkan are of special
significance. The message of the half-shekel in the context of
the building of the Mishkan now becomes obvious: make yourself
feel good when you do your part in building a place for
immediate encounters with God.
Biblical commentators have
pointed out that the word ish (in this sense “every person”)
underscores the fact that everybody’s life is involved in the
building process. Built upon the foundations laid by all—made
from everybody’s half-shekel contribution—the Mishkan is a
structure which is then filled and furnished with sacred tools
and objects to service God, and it is the work place of
specialists and experts, professionals of all kind with various
skills and responsibilities.
This was the case in the
Mishkan where the priests and Levites—supported by all of the
children of Israel—were entrusted to take care of that special
connection with God. Today we also build our communities and
places where we want to be in touch with God. Through prayer,
companionship and the pursuit of loving kindness we take care of
each other, of our neighbours and of all of God’s creation.
What best empowers the experts
and specialists of our day to be effective? For the prayer
leaders and youth workers, coordinators and administrators,
chairs of committees and project managers it is the knowledge
and strong sense that they are supported by all equally - rich
and poor. In the same way that everybody’s half-shekel went into
the foundations of the Mishkan, ensuring that the sacred tasks
of the entire community can be done, mutual appreciation for
each other’s share and contribution is vital to building and
maintaining a sacred structure and community; a place and space
where we encounter God in prayer and loving kindness.
Markus Lange is student
rabbi at NNLS
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
When the people saw that Moses
was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people
gathered against Aaron and said to him, “Come, make us a god who
shall go before us, for that man Moses, who brought us from the
land of Egypt – we do not know what has happened to him.”
(Exodus 32:1)
-
Hur arose and rebuked
them, “You brainless fools! Have you forgotten the miracles
God performed for you?” Whereupon they rose against him and
slew him. They then gathered against Aaron and said, “If you
make a god for us, well and good; but if not, we will do to
you what we have done to this man.” When Aaron saw the state
of affairs, he was afraid... The people wanted to build an
altar with him, but he would not allow them, saying, “Allow
me to build it by myself, for it is not befitting the
respect due to the altar that another should build it.”
Aaron’s intention in this was to delay matters; he said to
himself, “By the time I build it all by myself Moses will
come down.” But when he had built it and Moses had not yet
descended, we read, “Early the next day, the people offered
up burnt offerings.” (Shemot Rabbah 41:7)
-
Aaron argued with
himself, saying: If I say to them, give me silver and gold,
they will bring it immediately; but behold I will say to
them give me the earrings of your wives and sons and
daughters and right away this thing will fail, as it is
said, “Take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your
wives, your sons, and your daughters.” The women heard, but
they were unwilling to give their earrings to their
husbands, but they said to them, “[You want] to make an idol
and an abomination that has no power to save – we will not
listen to you.”... What did the men do? They broke off the
earrings that were in their own ears and gave them to Aaron.
(Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer 45)
-
The law is that a person
must allow himself to be killed rather than to engage in
idolatrous practices. Why then didn’t Aaron allow himself to
be killed rather than build the people an idol? The
explanation is as follows: the people never forced Aaron to
engage in such idolatrous practices. All they asked was,
“Come, make us a god,” make an idol that we will worship.
The prohibition involved, as far as Aaron was concerned, was
only that of lifnei iver – “placing a stumbling block in
front of the blind,” i.e., enabling someone else to commit a
sin. One is not required to lay down his life in order to
prevent another from committing a sin. (Imrei Shefer [Rabbi
Shlomo Kluger, 1785-1869, Croatia])
-
Hillel taught: Be a
disciple of Aaron: loving peace and pursuing peace, loving
your fellow creatures and attracting them to the study of
Torah. (Pirkei Avot 1:12)
Sparks for Discussion
How could God’s chosen high
priest have made an idol? The various midrashim portray Aaron
engaging in delaying tactics, hoping that Moses would return and
defuse the situation. Why didn’t Aaron just say “No!”? How much
blame does Aaron bear for the sin of the Golden Calf?
The rabbis portray Aaron as
the paradigmatic peacemaker, willing to go to extremes to heal
conflicts or to prevent them. How much did this figure into the
episode of the calf? Where does peace rank in the hierarchy of
values? What happens when people decide there is no cause worth
fighting (that is, killing or being killed) for?
TETZAVEH Shabbat Zachor
13th Adar 5770 ~ 27th February 2010
By Michael Gluckman
And you shall command the
children of Israel, and they shall take to you pure olive oil,
crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually [Shemot
27:20]
Light is central in Jewish
existence – at the very beginning of the process of creation the
first to be created is light; God said, 'There shall be light,'
and light came into existence. God saw that the light was good,
and God divided between the light and the darkness [Bereishit
1:3-4]
In terms of our contemporary
understanding of science, light is one of the key elements that
have made life possible on this planet. Without it there would
be no photosynthesis in plants, the process which produces the
oxygen that is a prerequisite of life.
For Judaism light has become
one of our central symbols. When we rise in the morning as part
of Shachrit we bless God for creating light. We usher in Shabbat
and all our Chagim by the kindling of light and use the
extinguishing of a flame as part of the Havdalah ceremony which
divides Shabbat from the rest of the week. Most famously of all
we commemorate the miracle of the rededication of the temple by
the Maccabees by kindling the Chanukiah. To many of us our
mother lighting the Shabbat Candles evokes our deepest Jewish
memories and of course we use light to preserve those very
memories through the lighting of a Yarzeit candle.
In our tradition light and
dark, as opposites parallel good and evil. The Havdalah blessing
parallels holiness and secularity with light and dark and goes
on to parallel Israel and the other nations and the Shabbat and
the six working days.
The people Israel themselves
are likened to a light – we should according to Isaiah be Or
l’goyim – a light to the nations. That is our role as ”the
chosen people” not to be better than anyone but being charged
with a special responsibility to live in such a way that we
bring God’s ways to the rest of the world by example. The
spreading of that light is an awesome responsibility that
devolves on us all. For that light to be most effective it
requires the participation of each and every one of us.
What sort of qualities do we
want ascribed to that light. Looking around our community we all
shudder when we see people behaving in a way that gives a bad
impression of what it means to be Jew. One of my teachers taught
that God measures all the choices that we made through the year.
Not the choices of which dress or car that we bought. Not the
choice of what we ordered at a restaurant. But the choice of how
we spoke to the shop assistant, how we behaved towards the
waitress. Being that light lays responsibilities upon us. And if
that light illuminates something unjust, something
uncomfortable, in the world then it is our duty as Jews not to
put on the dark glasses and just walk on by; rather to get
involved and work to correct that injustice.
Michael Gluckman is
Executive Director of AMS
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
Aaron shall wear it while
officiating, so that the sound of it is heard when he comes into
the sanctuary before the Lord and when he goes out – that he may
not die. (Exodus 28:35)
-
So that he does not sneak
in on Me like a thief in the night. From this we learn good
manners: One should not simply walk unannounced into someone
else’s home, in case he is doing something that requires
privacy. (Bechor Shor (Rabbi Yosef of Orleans), 1140-1190,
France)
-
Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai
said: The man who enters his own house or, needless to say,
the house of his fellow man, unexpectedly, the Holy One
hates, and I too do not exactly love him. Rav said: Do not
enter your city or even your own home unexpectedly. When
Rabbi Yohanan was about to go in to inquire about the
welfare of Rabbi Hanina, he would first clear his throat, in
keeping with “So that the sound of it is heard when he comes
in.” (Vayikra Rabbah 21:8)
-
“How fair are your tents,
O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel!” (B’midbar 24:5). Because
he saw that their doors were not directed one opposite the
other. (Rashi [Rabbi Shlomo Yitzhaki, 1040-1105, France])
-
“As Balaam looked up and
saw Israel encamped upon him” (B’midbar 24:2). What did he
see? He saw that their tent openings were not facing each
other, so that they could not peek into each other’s tents.
Admiring their modesty and decency, Balaam declared, “People
such as these deserve to have the shechina rest upon them.”
(Bava Batra 60a)
Sparks for Discussion
We would all agree that it is
wrong to snoop or invade the privacy of our neighbours -- even
if we can’t always resist the temptation to do so -- but what
about family members? Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai says that we must
respect the privacy of those who live in our own home. Do you
agree? Are there limits? Should spouses read each other’s email?
Should a parent knock on a child’s door and wait to be invited
in? Do parents have the right or even the responsibility to
monitor their child’s on-line activity, to read her diary, or to
search his room for drugs?
What responsibility does a
person have to guard her or his own privacy? Today it’s hard to
avoid hearing people’s cell phone conversations or seeing
others’ embarrassing moments posted online. How do you keep your
private life private?
TERUMAH
6th Adar 5770 ~ 20th February 2010
By Andrew Levy
The word
chosen as the name of a parshah is one of the ways Jews have
internalised the Torah. Traditionally, this is the first major
word in the parshah. Because it is the first major word, the
Rabbis had a choice. It sounds like a value-free choice; yet
which word constitutes the first “major” word is surely itself a
statement of ideology of sorts. If you analyse the words
chosen, they tend to be either verbs of doing (Va’era, Bo,
Beshallach) or proper names (Noach, Chayyei Sarah, Yitro). Only
rarely are they, like today’s parshah, nouns of action and, as
such, those actions have been stressed by the Rabbis as
important.
So what is a
“Terumah”? Reading the Torah chronologically, we don’t know
because this is its first use in the Torah. It comes from the
root “Ram” meaning high (often used for where God dwells) and
shares this root, more significantly for the Masorti movement,
with the word “Marom” meaning height. So the reader is being
asked to associate it with something which is elevated. As the
reader realises as s/he follows the Torah further, that is the
meaning which it will take on. It becomes something “lifted
off” as a sacrifice – the thigh bone to be sacrificed in the
Temple service.
Yet that
understanding sits very uneasily with its meaning here - the
first time it appears in the Torah:-
“And God
spoke to Moses saying – speak to the children of Israel so that
they bring me a Terumah – from each person as their heart moves
them to give shall you bring my Terumah” (Ex 25 1-2)
Here Terumah
does not mean lifting off in any literal sense. Here it means
something much more like “offering” or “contribution”. And this
is how it has entered the Hebrew language; it came to mean the
offering to be set apart for the Temple and used by the
priests. However, as can be seen from its original context it
also has a much wider meaning than that. The word means
something contributed voluntarily and from the heart. So how
does this link with the word’s root meaning of “high”?
Words in
Hebrew often double up in their meaning – a word with a specific
mundane meaning can also have an elevated meaning as well. So
the word “Tzedakah” meaning charity comes from the word “Tzedek”
meaning “just”. In other words for the Hebrew language charity
is not what you do if you feel like it – it is nothing more and
nothing less than what is right or just.
The same
idea works for Terumah – a Terumah is more than an offering or
contribution. It is also something elevated; in Hebrew, the
word links with the notion of a God residing on high. So the
making of a donation (Terumah) has an immediate association with
God; that which “their heart moves them to give” is also
divinely inspired.
Andrew Levy
is a member of NNLS
Torah
Sparks
By Rabbi
Joyce Newmark
You shall
make the planks for the Tabernacle of acacia wood, upright. The
length of each plank shall be ten cubits and the width of each
plank a cubit and a half. (Exodus 26:15-16)
Where did
the boards come from? Jacob our father planted them. When he
came down to Egypt, he said to his sons: My sons! You are
destined to be redeemed from here, and when you are redeemed,
the Holy One will tell you that you are to make a Tabernacle for
Him. Rise up and plant cedars now, so that when He tells you to
make a Tabernacle for Him, these cedars will be on hand. So
Jacob’s sons set to planting cedars, doing just what he told
them. Hence Scripture speaks of “the planks,” the boards their
father had arranged should be on hand. (Tanhuma Terumah 9)
One day, as
he was walking on the road, Honi the Circle Maker saw a man
planting a carob tree. He asked him, “How long will it take this
tree to bear fruit?” The man replied, “Seventy years.” He asked,
“Are you quite sure you will live another seventy years to eat
its fruit?” The man replied, “I myself found fully grown carob
trees in the world; as my forebears planted for me, so am I
planting for my children.” (Taanit 23a)
Why of
acacia wood? God set an example for all time, that when a man is
about to build his house from a fruit-producing tree, he should
be reminded: If, when the supreme King of kings commanded the
Tabernacle to be erected, His instructions were to use only such
trees as are not fruit-bearing – even though all things belong
to Him; how much more should this be so in your case! (Shemot
Rabbah 35:2)
Not only one
who cuts down food trees, but also one who [purposely and
impulsively] smashes household goods, tears clothes, demolishes
a building, stops up a spring, or destroys food violates the
command “You must not destroy...” (Devarim 20:19) (Rambam,
Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Malachim 6:10 (Rabbi Moses ben Maimon),
1135-1209, Spain and Egypt)
Sparks
for Discussion
The Biblical
cubit is about 18 inches, so the planks mentioned here would
measure some 15 feet by a little more than two feet. Where would
the Israelites have found them? Why does the Tanhuma explain
their origin in the way it does?
Shemot
Rabbah uses our verse to teach an environmental lesson. What
does it add to the concept of bal tashchit (do not destroy) as
codified by Rambam? What are you doing to incorporate bal
tashchit into your life? The passages from Tanhuma and Taanit
remind us that concern for the environment means making
long-term commitments. Do you think this is realistic? How can
we encourage people to think in terms of generations rather than
weeks or months?
MISHPATIM
Shabbat Shekalim
29th Shevat 5770 ~ 13th
February 2010
By Allan Myers
What’s today’s Hebrew date?
(No turning back the page!)
Two weeks ago today was Tu B’Shvat, the 15th of
Shevat. That was fourteen days ago so today is the 29th
day of Shevat. Shevat has thirty days, so tomorrow is the
last day of Shevat and is the first day of Rosh Chodesh
Adar.
In the time of the building of the Temple, the Jewish poll
tax was collected during Adar. It was originally a way of
counting the people. Later, it was called kessef kipurim
(atonement silver).
It was half a shekel’s weight in silver per person and had
to be collected by the end of the following month (Nissan).
This year, the last day of Adar is on Monday 15 March, the
day when Council Tax bills will be going out all over the
country to collect the British poll tax.
To mark the start of the
Jewish poll tax month, on this Shabbat we read a special
maftir and haphtarah about the first time the poll tax was
levied in order to build the Mishkan, the sanctuary in the
wilderness.
In today’s maftir, we read that the contribution is an
anonymous, uniform contribution. Everybody, rich and poor,
has to contribute the same amount. The money is used to buy
public sacrifices which atone for the people as a whole and
the silver donated is used to make the hooks and screws of
the tabernacle – not the most decorative parts but the ones
which hold it together. Without this contribution, it would
collapse.
How is the half shekel linked to atonement? Rabbi Joseph
Soloveitchik says that the scapegoat, used in the Yom Kippur
ritual, is one of the sacrifices bought with the half shekel
levy. Karen Koenig Schochet, writing in JOFA, the orthodox
feminists’ journal, takes this further. Noting that the half
shekel is gathered as people pass by a collecting box, she
compares it to Rosh Hashanah, when, as we read in the
Unataneh Tokef prayer, “All mankind passes before God like a
flock of sheep”.
Although everyone is judged individually, the act of passing
before God like a flock of sheep means that no one is judged
too harshly. Through contributing something anonymous and
partial (only half a shekel) each individual joins
the community, becoming part of a whole. As part of the
community, which, as a whole, is deserving of life, the
individual attains atonement.
Allan Myers is a member of
KNMS
Torah Sparks
When you encounter your
enemy’s ox or ass wandering, you must take it back to him.
When you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden
and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless
raise it with him. (Exodus 23:4-5)
A. “Your
enemy’s ox” – Rabbi Josiah says: This means of a heathen
worshiping idols. For thus we find everywhere that the
heathen are designated as enemies of Israel... Rabbi
Eliezer says: This passage refers to a convert who has
relapsed into his former evil predilections. Rabbi Isaac
says: This passage refers to an apostate Israelite.
Rabbi Jonathan says: The passage actually refers to an
Israelite. How then can Scripture say: “Your enemy”? It
is simply this: If one has beaten his son or has had a
quarrel with him, he becomes his enemy for the time
being. (Mekhilta Kaspa 2)
B. Even
your enemy’s ox. But it is a greater commandment to do
it for your enemy than for your friend, in order to
crush the evil impulse. (Bechor Shor (Rabbi Yosef of
Orleans), 1140-1190, France)
C. Moreover the halakhah sees in his unloading of the
animal not only a duty you have to carry out towards
your fellowmen in difficulty, but also towards the
suffering animal, that tza’ar baalei hayim (the
prevention of the suffering of living creatures) is a
Torah commandment. To help his fellowman he would only
be obligated “with him,” if the man is doing all he can
himself. But for the animal’s sake, he must render
assistance even if the master wrongfully and lazily
stands there doing nothing and leaves the whole of the
work to him. (Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, 1808-1888,
Germany)
D. Rabbi
Alexandroni said: Two ass drivers who hated each other
were traveling along the same road. The ass of one of
them fell down. The other saw it but passed him by.
After he had passed by he said: It is written in Holy
Writ “if you see the ass of your enemy... you must
nevertheless raise it with him.” Forthwith he went back
to help him with the load. The other began to think
things over and said: So and so is evidently my friend
and I didn’t know it. Both went into a roadside inn and
had a drink together. What led to them making up? One of
them looked into the Torah. (Tanhuma Yashan Mishpatim)
Sparks for Discussion
Why is the Mekhilta troubled
by the phrase “your enemy’s ox?” What can we learn from this
mitzvah? Our commentators suggest three possibilities – to
control our natural tendency to avoid or ignore people we
don’t like; to prevent the suffering of animals; or to work
at turning enemies into friends. Which do you think is most
important? Which can you imagine yourself doing – would you
stop to help if you saw your unpleasant neighbour by the
side of the road trying to fix a flat tyre? What is the
appropriate way to deal with those we dislike?
YITRO
22nd Shevat 5770 ~ 6th February 2010
This week’s sedra describes one of the most important,
seminal moments in Jewish history - the giving of the Ten
Commandments at Mount Sinai. So it is interesting to ponder
the significance of the sedra being named after Moses’
father in law – Yitro – who opens the sedra with his advice
on establishing a system of justice.
When Yitro sees large numbers of people bringing their
disputes to Moses from morning until night he asks him why
he alone is the judge. Moses explains that he acts both as
judge to deal with the disagreements and as teacher,
instructing the people in God’s laws. Yitro tells Moses that
he is wrong and sets out instructions to establish a
judicial system based on precedent, with judges appointed
from the people and Moses as the senior judge.
The rabbinic commentators note Yitro’s deep concern when he
sees Moses acting as sole judge from morning to night. What
concerns them is not that Moses is overworked and at risk of
exhaustion, but that Moses is exhausting the people. By
insisting that he is the only one who can solve the
disputes, he is forcing the people to wait for many hours
waiting for him to reach their case. The Ramban comments
that the trouble with Moses’ decision to hear all the
disputes himself was not simply the frustration it caused
the people, but the danger of increasing violence and
injustice amongst them. As the people lost faith in Moses’
ability to hear their cases, they would start to take the
law into their own hands. Rough justice would be the result.
Yitro’s advice to delegate authority and share the
leadership meant that justice could be dispensed more
quickly with the result that the people would be less
frustrated and more willing to have their cases heard. The
system established the rule of law and most legal systems
today are loosely based on Yitro’s counsel to Moses.
This judicial system delegates and shares leadership amongst
the people and puts responsibility on them to establish a
fair system. The establishment of a judiciary drawn from the
people leads to a more egalitarian system, with maximum
access and "ownership" of the Torah by the people. Having a
strong and wise leader such as Moses is important, but so is
having people to help, because without all of that combined
help, Moses’ efforts alone could not succeed.
I
suspect it is no coincidence that we are reminded of the
importance of justice and our responsibility in maintaining
that system just before the revelation at Sinai.
The order of
this sedra suggests that we had to first establish and
accept Yitro’s idea of a society based on a justice system
before we were ready to enter the covenant with God. We had
to acknowledge the fundamental principle of human
responsibility to establish and maintain a fair and
equitable justice system. Supporting such a justice system
allows us to live a moral life and makes us worthy of our
relationship with God.
Vicky Fox is a member of NNLS
-
"You shall not swear falsely by [literally, lift
up/carry] the name of the Lord your God; for the Lord
will not clear one who swears falsely by His name."
(Exodus 20:7)
Note: Traditional translation: You shall not take the
name of the Lord your God in vain; for the Lord will not
hold him guiltless that takes His name in vain.
-
“You shall not swear falsely by My name” (Leviticus
19:12) What need was there for this text, when it has
already been stated: “You shall not swear falsely by the
name of the Lord your God”? You might have thought that
one is not culpable except when His specific name [the
Tetragrammaton] is involved. From where do we learn that
the prohibition applies to all the names of God? The
text adds: “By My name” – whatever name I have. (Sifra)
-
In any case, one who invokes God and does not keep his
promise is as if he is denying God’s existence. For the
point of mentioning God’s name is to say, “Just as God
is truth, so is my word.” (Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra,
1092-1167, Spain)
-
The text has been interpreted by our Sages to mean that
it is forbidden to swear by the hallowed Name in vain,
as for example, he that swears that something is or is
not so, where the matter is self-evident – that the
pillar is made of marble and he is standing by, and all
can see that it is so. (Ramban [Rabbi Moses ben
Nachman, 1194-1270, Spain])
-
The text also implies that he should not bear the name
of the Lord who is his God in vain, indicating to all
that he is a Jew and a servant of the Lord implying that
he is one of His servants – when such is not the case.
This prohibition also includes the one who regards
himself as more righteous than he really is. (Or
HaHayyim [Rabbi Hayyim Ibn Attar, 1696-1743, Morocco and
Israel])
-
Do not take God’s name in matters which are in vain or
false. Do not place an imprint of holiness on things
which are totally repulsive, which appear as positive
commandments but which are in reality serious sins.
Indeed, it is the way of the Evil Inclination to deceive
people by depicting grievous sins as the most sanctified
commandments. Our Sages said (Shevuot 39a) that the
entire world trembled when God said at Sinai, “You shall
not take the name of the Lord your God in vain,” because
all the most terrible crimes and murders are carried out
under the cloak of truth, justice, and uprightness. (Duda’ei
Reuven [Rabbi Reuben Katz, 1880-1963, Lithuania, United
States, and Israel])
Sparks for Discussion
The translation of this verse found in Etz Hayim limits the
commandment to the prohibition of false oaths, but our
commentators understand it much more broadly. Surely false
oaths are prohibited, but so are meaningless ones. Why? How
is pretending to be more righteous than one actually is
“carrying” God’s name in vain? Duda’ei Reuven warns against
presenting sins as if they were mitzvot. How do you
understand this? What examples can you think of?
BESHALLACH
Shabbat Shira ~ Tu b’Shevat
15th Shevat 5770 ~ 30th
January 2010
By Michael Wegier
This weeks Sidra is divided into
two equal parts. The first part tells the story of the crossing
of the Red Sea and the defeat of the Egyptians. It is full of
incredible miracles. The cloud and pillar of fire that guides
the Israelites, the parting of the sea and the subsequent
drowning of the Egyptians. This first part ends with the Song at
the Sea which celebrates God's awesome powers.
The second half begins with
Miriam's song but immediately afterwards, the Torah changes tone
and we are drawn into the beginning of many complaints about the
Israelites' situation. The food is no good, Egypt was better,
there is no water to drink. Moses is accused of bringing them
out in order to kill them. Moses is genuinely scared. He pleads
with God to help him. Even though this second section also
includes God's interventions, the tone of the text is
characterised by complaint rather than the awesome power of God
so prevalent in the earlier section.
The extraordinary change in tone
cannot be coincidental. We must ask ourselves what the Torah is
trying to tell us by juxtaposing these two elements against each
other. It seems to me that there is a powerful lesson to be
learnt. Religious civilization may be inspired and enriched by
miracles but they are no guide for how to live today.
The Israelites who had just
witnessed a massive display of God's power could not maintain
their faith in His or Moshe's abilities within a small amount of
time after crossing the sea. From the 10 plagues through to the
killing of the Egyptians, it would be reasonable to assume that
the people would continue to have faith in Moses and God for the
foreseeable future.
In fact, the very recent miracles
were insufficient to calm their fears or assuage their hunger.
The Israelites needed practical (if God given) solutions then
and there. The miracles were only relevant and essential for the
actual problem they needed to address. As a factor in
guaranteeing ongoing commitment they were useless.
Instead, the Torah and subsequent
Jewish writing, highlights the role of Mitzva and Talmud Torah
rather than the basking in miracle shown to our ancestors. For
Judaism to be sustained, it is praxis and study which are needed
and not contemplation of miracles.
There is great relevance here for
our situation in Israel (where I am writing). I do not know if
the creation of Israel and its subsequent development were
divinely inspired (I have my doubts). But I am absolutely
convinced that even believing it was a God given miracle is
irrelevant to how we should construct our lives here. Israel's
future and its place in Jewish history will be determined by how
we create a just and culturally rich society notwithstanding the
evil people who hope to destroy us. Ancient and modern miracles
may have occurred. However we must rely on the very human
application of the moral use of power, the wisdom of Judaism and
the commitment to democracy.
Michael Wegier is a former member
of NNLS and director of Melitz
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
The Lord said to Moses, “why do
you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward.” (Exodus
14:15)
1. According to Rabbi
Eliezer, the Holy One said to Moses: There is a time to be brief
and a time to be lengthy. My children are in great distress, the
sea is enclosing them, the enemy is in pursuit, and you stand
here praying away! Tell the Israelites to go forward. (Shemot
Rabbah 21:8)
2. Rabbi Joshua said, God
said to Moses: All that Israel have to do is to go forward.
Therefore, let them go forward! Let their feet step forward from
the dry land to the sea, and you will see the miracles that I
will perform for them. (Shemot Rabbah 21:8)
3. Rabbi Meir said: When
the Israelites stood at the Reed Sea, the tribes were vying with
one another, one saying “I will be first to go down into the
sea,” and the other saying “I will be first to go down into the
sea.”... Rabbi Judah said to Rabbi Meir: That is not quite the
way it happened. In fact, one tribe said, “I will not be the
first to go into the sea,” and another tribe also said, “I will
not be the first to go into the sea.” While they were standing
there deliberating, Nachshon ben Amminadav sprang forward and
was the first to go down into the sea. (Talmud Sotah 36b)
4. Rabbi Yisrael Salanter
was accustomed to say that a Jew has to be a heretic to a
certain extent, and if someone in need comes to him, he should
not trust to God to help the person. Instead, he must do
whatever he can to help a person in need.
5. Pray as if everything
depended on God and work as if everything depended on man.
(Francis Cardinal Spellman, Archbishop of New York, 1889-1967)
Sparks for Discussion
According to tradition, it was
only after Nachshon leapt into the sea that the waters divided.
What do you think would have happened if Nachshon (or someone
else) hadn’t jumped? What do you suppose was in Nachshon’s mind
as he leapt -- I have faith that God will save me? I’d rather
die than go back to Egypt as a slave? Doing something – anything
– is better than this endless debating? What moved Nachshon to
act?
Cardinal Spellman makes the point
nicely. How can we know whether the “miracles” we see are due to
divine or human efforts? Do you believe it makes sense to keep
trying in the face of apparently insurmountable obstacles?
BO
8th Shevat 5770 ~ 23rd
January 2010
By Angela Gluck
We only get it twice—once here
in Bo and once in K’doshim, a couple of books later: those two
little words “kol adat”—the whole community.
Scores of times in the Torah
God tells Moshe to “Speak to the children of Israel and say to
them…” but at the beginning of K’doshim (Vayikra 19: 2), we have
the interestingly small yet important insertion of “kol adat” in
“Speak to the whole community of the children of Israel”. Moshe
is to tell them all about the nature of God’s holiness and the
nature of, as it were, human holiness: not so much the enactment
of ritual but more the engagement with justice that we are to
embrace as a response to The Holy One.
In Bo, “kol adat” comes at the
end of all of the confrontations with Pharaoh after all the
yes-you-can-go and no-you-can’t-go power plays, the making of
Pharaoh ’s heart variously hard and heavy, when it’s all over
and the Children of Israel will soon be leaving. The people have
just learned that this is to be “the first of the months, the
beginning of the months of the year for you”. Then comes this
rare phrase “kol adat”—a slight variation on the version in
K’doshim—in “Speak to the whole community of Israel…” (Sh’mot
12: 3) Moshe is to tell them about taking a lamb for each family
on the tenth day of that month.
Why that extra phrase? Is it
because Moshe—other than in these two instances—is only to speak
to some of the people? There’s nothing to suggest that directly
or indirectly. Indeed, we have an image of the whole community
gathered to hear what he has to say or at the very least not
being excluded from it. Aside from the few mitzvot that are
given for identified groups and ‘types’—for example, the Leviim—we’re
given to see all of the Torah as intended for all of the people.
Is it then because the mitzvot
that follow “kol adat” are of supreme significance? That, too,
is hard to fathom. “Kol adat” doesn’t appear before “Sh’ma” or
“Choose life” or “Justice, justice you shall pursue” or even the
Ten Sayings, with the commandment not to murder, so it can
hardly be the case that they’re of relatively low importance.
So what, then, might be behind
“kol adat” in these verses of Bo and K’doshim? It seems that
there are clues to be spotted from a close reading of the two
texts and a comparison of their contexts. While spoken in
entirely different settings—one in Egypt to slaves, the other in
Sinai to free, post-Torah people—they echo each other in
unexpected ways.
One parallel is the date.
K’doshim—like most of Vayikra—is given on the first of the first
month, which we later came to call Nisan: while it’s not
explicitly stated, as in Bo, it can be deduced from the Torah’s
internal clock. That was quite some day for it marked the
dedication of the Mishkan. Like the liberation from slavery,
it’s a time of new beginnings—one year on. Another parallel is
in the interweaving of ritual and theological elements with
ethical and relational elements. In K’doshim, “I am God” is
threaded through the list of mitzvot to give human action an
ultimate direction and to infuse life with holiness. In Bo,
these associations are more scattered. Yet on the point of the
Israelites’ departure, their slavery and hardship are not
mentioned and the original liberation movement has been
transcended: Bo is no mere abolitionist tract. Moshe doesn’t
play the human rights card with Pharaoh . He doesn’t say, “let
us go because it’s wrong to treat people the way you do” but
rather, “let us go because God is to be worshipped—and God has
power!” And when the Israelites are ready to go, they’re told
the implications of their freedom, one of which is about respect
and decency and another is about God’s intervention: “I and not
an angel… I and no other…”
Both Bo and K’doshim have an
interesting and important place. K’doshim, the middle of the
third book, is almost exactly mid-way through the Torah and can
justifiably be seen as its heart. Bo is the parashah that
launches the Children of Israel into peoplehood; it captures
their defining moment; it records their founding narrative.
K’doshim may tell us what the
Torah is about. Bo tells us what we are to be about: a people
whom God has saved, made free for the Torah and bids to remember
and relive and relearn this precious experience—every day, every
week, every year. Little wonder that it’s for “kol adat”!
Angela Gluck is a member
of NLS
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
Take a bunch of hyssop, dip
it in the blood that is in the basin, and apply some of the
blood that is in the basin to the lintel and to the two
doorposts. None of you shall go outside the door of his house
until morning. (Exodus 12:22)
-
This tells us that the
angel, once permission to harm is given him, does not
discriminate between the righteous and the wicked. (Mekhilta,
Pisha 11)
-
The reason the Israelites
were forbidden to leave their homes during the plague of the
first-born was because “If your enemy falls, do not exult” (Mishlei
24:17) – that they should not see the downfall of their
enemies, and they should not become revengeful or cruel.
(Rabbi Aharon Shmuel Tamrat, 1869-1931, Lithuania)
-
The Exodus from Egypt is
a symbol of liberation and freedom for all times and in all
generations, and “I am the Lord your God who brought you out
of the land of Egypt” (20:2) As such, there is no way that
the Exodus would take place in the night, as if the Jews
were stealing away. (Tzeror Ha-Mor (Rabbi Abraham Saba),
15-16th century, Spain, Portugal and Morocco)
-
The Holy Blessed One
said: If I bring forth the Israelites by night, they [the
Egyptians] will say, He has done His deeds like a thief.
Therefore, behold, I will bring them forth when the sun is
in his zenith at midday. (Pirkei de Rabbi Eliezer 45)
-
Pharaoh said to Moses,
“Up, depart from among my people.” Moses replied, “Are we
thieves, that you expect us to get out during the dark of
night? Thus has the Holy One commanded us: ‘None of you
shall go outside the door of his house until morning’ – we
will not go out except with heads held high, in the sight of
all Egypt.” (Tanhuma Bo 19)
Sparks for Discussion
Why were the Israelites
commanded to remain in their homes until morning? Was it a
safety precaution? Was it to prevent gloating? Or, as many
commentators suggest, was it important that the Israelites leave
Egypt in the full light of day? What does it mean when something
is done under cover of darkness? Would the knowledge that events
and actions in your life might wind up on the front page of the
newspaper or on the internet change the way you behave in any
significant way?
VAERA
Rosh
Chodesh Shevat
1st
Shevat 5770 ~ 16th January 2010
By Daniel
Oppenheimer
In the first
part of the parashah, God says a curious thing to Moses. “See, I
have made you God (elohim) to Pharaoh, and Aharon your brother
will be your prophet”.
The
commentators tend to interpret the term “elohim” in this context
as meaning “master” or “judge” – that Moses now has power over
Pharaoh.
I would like
to take the term “God” more literally, and read this as God
elegantly making a point to both Moses and Pharaoh
simultaneously – different points, each appropriate to the
person concerned.
To Moses,
God is referring back to the interchange between God and Moses
in the previous week’s parashah, when God was giving Moses his
mission. Moses’s response to God’s clear command to go back to
Egypt was, instead of submitting to God’s clearly superior
authority, to argue the toss. Now Moses is in the business of
giving commands to Pharaoh – but just as Moses did not listen,
so Pharaoh did not listen. We can see this verse as God saying
with an ironic smile, so to speak, “I am now going to put you in
the position that I have just been – namely, to have someone who
ought to be obeying your command first time, arguing with you.
You go and play the “God” role, and Pharaoh can play the “Moses”
role. See how you like it!”
With regard
to Pharaoh, God is making a much more humiliating point. The
verse can be seen as part of the Torah’s ongoing project to
ridicule and belittle idol worship, idol worshippers and
political systems based on idol worship, whenever it gets the
chance. In Pharaoh’s Egyptian worldview, it is Pharaoh who is a
god and Moses who is the humble subject. God says “I hereby turn
your world upside down, Pharaoh”. The descendant of slaves will
now be God to the former god-king Pharaoh. And in fact, the
belittling of Pharaoh is even worse when we bear in mind that of
course Moses is not presented as being a particularly superior
human being. If Moses is like God to Pharaoh, what does that say
about the relationship of the actual God to Pharaoh? In
particular, we can read this as God’s response to Pharaoh’s
dismissive remark in parashat Shemot, when Moses first asks him
to let the Jewish people go, “Who is this “Adonai” person, that
I should listen to him?” The verse we are considering is God’s
answer to Pharaoh. “Fine, you say you don’t know who I am. Then
I’ll give you a God that you do know: this Moses, he will be God
as far as you are concerned. How do you like that?”
Daniel
Oppenheimer is a member of NNLS
Torah
Sparks
By Rabbi
Joyce Newmark
"And the
Lord said to Moses, “Say to Aaron: Take your rod and hold out
your arm over the waters of Egypt – its rivers, its canals, its
ponds, all its bodies of water – that they may turn to blood;
there shall be blood throughout the land of Egypt, even in
vessels of wood and stone.” (Exodus 7:19)"
-
Rabbi
Tanhum taught: Why were the waters not smitten by Moses
himself? Because the Holy One said to Moses: It is not
proper that the waters that protected you when you were cast
into the river should now be smitten by you. As you live,
they shall be smitten by none other than Aaron. (Shemot
Rabbah 9:10)
-
Rabbi
Tanhum taught: It is not proper that the dust that protected
you when you killed the Egyptian should be smitten by you.
Therefore, these three plagues [blood, frogs, lice] were
brought about by means of Aaron. (Shemot Rabbah 10:7)
-
Water is
an inanimate object that does not have free will. When
something floats in water and does not sink, it would not
occur to us to give thanks to the water for its buoyancy.
Nevertheless, we learn from this verse that if a person
derives pleasure from an object, he should show his
gratitude by being careful not to cause harm or damage to
the object, even though it would not suffer pain... Since
this is true concerning inanimate objects, all the more so
we must show gratitude toward people who have shown us
kindness. (Rabbi Chayim Shmuelevitz) (Rabbi Zelig Pliskin,
“Love Your Neighbour,” pp. 140-141.)
-
Don’t
point to an institution’s imperfections as reason for not
acknowledging the good it has done you. The Talmud teaches,
“Cast no mud into the well from which you have drunk” (Bava
Kamma 92b). Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik taught that if you
studied at a school, even if you come to disagree with the
school’s approach later, don’t “throw mud at it” and condemn
it because of those aspects of the institution with which
you now disagree. This dictum is relevant as well for those
who have changed their religious orientation. For example,
some Jews who grow up Orthodox later leave for other
denominations, while others who grow up Reform, Masorti, or
unaffiliated later become Orthodox. Such people often speak
with bitterness of the movements in which they were raised,
but they should also acknowledge whatever good they gained
from their earlier experiences. (Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, “A
Code of Jewish Ethics, Volume I: You Shall Be Holy,” p. 107)
Sparks
for Discussion
Hakarat ha-tov
(acknowledging the good others have done for you) is not
difficult when those to whom you owe thanks are well-loved
friends and family. What do we owe to those who are no longer
members of that group – an ex-spouse, an estranged relative, a
former business colleague from who you parted on bad terms? How
should we speak about them?
Rabbi
Telushkin applies this notion to people who have changed the
religious movement to which they belong. We might expand this
idea to recognize that we have something worthwhile to learn
from all the streams of Judaism even if we disagree with much of
their philosophy and practice. What can we learn from Reform,
Orthodox, Hasidic, and cultural Jews? What should we appreciate
about our own less-than-perfect Masorti movement?
SHEMOT
23rd Tevet 5770 ~ 9th January 2010
By Deborah Silver
And so the curtain rises once more
on the story of how our people stopped being just a family,
albeit an extended one, and began to be a people instead.
Consider how a saga like this would
be introduced in the cinema.
In his book Working It Out my friend
Alex George had one of his characters summarize how she makes
film trailers:
I get presented with two hours of
dross and have to cut it down to two minutes of interesting and
exciting footage which is going to fool people into spending
their hard-earned cash to go and see it...you just take the best
jokes and the most violent bits and stick them together...
So for the story told in the book of
Shemot, there would be an introductory ‘hook’ line of some kind;
some arresting images of slavery; a bush, alight; a close-up or
two on some brooding (and probably male) faces; surging music;
probably some thunder and lightening. Jokes? Perhaps not so
many, but there are certainly enough violent bits to make up for
the deficit.
Yet we tell the story over and over
again, even though the adventure sequences must be predictable
by now.
So let me offer an alternative
focus, as we begin to read once more. In the Babylonian Talmud,
Sotah, on page 11b, we find the statement: ‘It was as a reward
for righteous women that our forefathers were redeemed from
Egypt.’ (This is followed by an interpretation of exceptional
beauty, which I invite you to read and consider for yourselves,
since to write about it would take more than the word count here
allows.)
Let us notice the female characters
in the story, this year. Because if we do, we will find that it
is women who drive the narrative. Without Jocheved’s courage and
Miriam’s ingenuity, Moses would have been killed at birth.
Without the initiative of Pharaoh’s daughter (who is nameless in
the Torah, but whom the rabbis of our later tradition name BatYa),
Moses would never have grown to adulthood. Without Zipporah’s
quick thinking, Moses would have been killed in his encounter
with an angel (this is a bit we do not normally read at Hebrew
school).
And women continue to receive
special mention. Indeed, the festival of Rosh Chodesh, the
celebration of the new month, is deduced by the Rabbis from a
close reading of the episode of the Golden Calf.
So for this year, I invite us to
approach that list of names with which the book begins with a
readiness to see that the story is going to be told much more
subtly than a film trailer would suggest. Rather, there is a
huge cast of characters in the story of our evolution to
nationhood, a cast in which all are represented.
Deborah Silver is a rabbinic student at the Ziegler School of
Rabbinic Studies of the American, Los Angeles.
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
Now Moses, tending the flock of his
father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian, drove the flock into
the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. An angel
of the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He
gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, yet the bush was not
consumed. Moses said, “I must turn aside to look at this
miraculous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up?” When the Lord
saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him out of the
bush: “Moses! Moses!” He answered, “Here I am.” (Exodus 3:1-4)
-
A gentile asked Rabbi Joshua ben
Karhah: Why did the Holy One, blessed be He, speak to Moses
from the midst of a thorn bush? He replied: Had He spoken
from a carob or a sycamore, you would have asked the same
question, but I cannot let you go away empty-handed. Why
[did God speak to Moses] from the midst of a thorn bush? It
is to teach you that there is no place that is devoid of the
divine presence – even a thorn bush. (Shemot Rabbah 2:5)
-
Sometime after that, when Moses had
grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their
labours. (Exodus 2:11) The Holy One said to Moses, “You have
put aside your work and have gone to share the sorrow of
Israel, behaving to them like a brother; I will also leave
those on high and below and speak with you.” Therefore it is
written, “When the Lord saw that he turned aside to look” –
because God saw that Moses turned aside from his duties to
look upon their burdens, “God called to him out of the
bush.” (Shemot Rabbah 1:27)
-
Once the Kotzker Rebbe [Menachem
Mendl of Kotzk, 1787-1859] asked his houseguests the
following question: “Where does God abide?” The guests
responded, “Surely the whole universe is filled with God’s
glory.” The Rabbi of Kotzk answered, “God dwells wherever
God is allowed to enter!” (Leket, From the Treasure House of
Hassidism by Martin Buber)
Sparks for Discussion
Did God create the burning bush just
for Moses, or had it been burning there all along? Had dozens of
passersby seen it, thought “oh, a burning bush,” and kept right
on walking? It’s not difficult to perceive the presence of God
in the splitting of the sea, in the birth of a child, or in a
spectacular sunset, but how can we learn to sense God in the
ordinary and the everyday? What
steps can we take to let God in?
From: United Synagogue for
Conservative Judaism. More
can be found on their
website
http://www.uscj.org
VAYECHI
16th Tevet 5770 ~ 2nd
January 2010
By Rabbi Jeremy Gordon
The Biblical commentator,
Isaiah Horowitz begins his
commentary (called Shnei
Luchot HaBrit) on Vayechi
with an investigation of
Jacob’s request that Joseph,
‘deal kindly [hesed] and
truly [emet] with me.’ Jacob
is looking for his son to
take him back, after his
death, to the Land of
Israel. Horowitz enquires
into the notion of hesed
v’emet – acts of truth and
kindness performed for those
who have passed away. These
acts receive tremendous
acclaim in the hands of the
Rabbis who believe that
caring for someone after
their death rejects any
notion that the carer
expects reward or recompense
– pure altruism. One who
engages in care of the dead
is held to meet the great
challenge of the proto-Rabbi
Antigonus of Socho; ‘Be not
like a servant who serves
their master in the hope of
reward, but rather like a
servant who serves their
master NOT in the hope of
reward.’ (Avot 1:3)
Caring for the dead is
certainly intense work,
usually undertaken by an
elite chevra kaddisha
(burial or literally ‘Holy’
society) whose motives are
deemed exceptionally pure.
However, in his Biblical
commentary, Horowitz
explores whether or not
Joseph’s motives really are
pure. Following Joseph’s
agreeing to perform this
asked for hesed v’emet
Joseph’s sons get a double
blessing from their
grandfather and perhaps
Joseph saw that reward
coming. Indeed maybe even
the hesed v’emet of the
chevra kaddisha is suspect.
Maybe they are doing it for
some otherworldly reward, or
to appear pious, or maybe,
even, in the hope that when
their turn comes there will
be someone to care for their
own death.
I think the point is that is
it possible to render any
action suspect from the
perspective of hesed v’emet
– ultimate altruism. We are
all one big jumbled up
conflagration of competing
motivations and
inclinations, many of which
we barely understand
ourselves. Perhaps the
secret is not to push too
hard at this impossible goal
of acting with perfect
kindness in search of pure
altruism. Maybe we would all
do better looking for every
inducement to do good and
grabbing them en route to
making the world a kinder
and better place. A wise
colleague (whose name I have
forgotten) asked this
question – why, if we are
commanded to give Tzedakah,
is there no blessing to
accompany the performance of
such an important Mitzvah?
Maybe, he guessed, if there
was a blessing, there would
be Talmudic analysis, legal
codification, Kabbalistic
preparation and so on until
the poor person, hand
outstretched before us,
would drop dead before we
would get round to offering
something. (Indeed it’s an
answer based on a Talmudic
passage where a poor person
does indeed collapse while
his potential benefactor
gets himself ready to hand
over something sustaining).
Acts of kindness should not
be subjected to
investigation until they can
be demonstrated as being
pure examples of hesed
v’emet, they should be
applauded and
under-analysed, not
over-analysed. We should be
encouraged to act
gratuitously in being kind.
We should practice deeds of
kindness wantonly. For, and
this is a very Jewish
thought, the path towards
holiness begins with action.
Jeremy Gordon is Rabbi of
NLS
Torah Sparks
By Rabbi Joyce Newmark
Simeon and Levi are a
pair; their weapons are
tools of lawlessness.
Let not my person be
included in their
council, let not my
being be counted in
their assembly, for when
angry they slay men, and
when pleased they maim
oxen. Cursed be their
anger so fierce, and
their wrath so
relentless. I will
divide them in Jacob,
scatter them in Israel.
(Bereisheit 49:5-7)
-
Simeon and Levi were
zealous and their
motives were pure. What
they did to Shechem did
not stem from a love of
battle or war. They
would not have risked
their lives had it not
been for the sake of
Heaven. Yet in spite of
this Jacob cursed their
zealousness, for anger
and zealousness are not
good qualities, and a
person should always
refrain from them, even
for the sake of Heaven
and with good motives.
(Mi-ginzeinu Ha-atik,
quoting Rabbi Meir of
Premishlan, cited in
Itturei Torah, Rabbi
Aharon Yaakov Greenberg)
-
Their anger will be
lessened through their
lowly state and hard
life, caused by the fact
that they will be
divided and scattered.
(Rabbi Ovadia ben Jacob
Sforno, 1475-1550,
Italy)
-
“They slay men” – that
refers to Hamor and the
people of Shechem; “they
maim oxen” – that they
wished to annihilate
Joseph (Rashi). What is
the connection between
these two events?
Rather, Jacob said as
follows: When I saw
their extremism and
their zealousness in the
episode of Shechem,
where they killed the
entire town after their
sister had been defiled
by Shechem the son of
Hamor, I did not know if
the source of their
action was a holy one,
in that they were
zealous for God, or
whether it was no more
than simple revenge and
murder. The second
incident, then, that of
the sale of Joseph,
taught me that their
first action had not
been done out of pure
motives, but because of
their anger and their
desire for revenge:
because “when angry they
slay men.” (Ma’ayanah
shel Torah, Rabbi
Alexander Zusia
Friedman, 1897-1943,
Poland)
-
The Chatam Sofer
explains that the
dividing and spreading
in this verse refers to
the previously mentioned
anger of the tribes of
Shimon and Levi. Shimon
and Levi overreacted
with violence. But the
other tribes did nothing
for the benefit of
Dinah. This was
improper, for they
should have taken some
action. Therefore Yaakov
said, “I’ll take away
some of the anger of
Shimon and Levi and
spread it among the
other brothers, for they
need more than they have
now. Then they will all
have this trait in a
proper amount.” (Toras
Moshe) Every trait is
necessary. The only
question is how much and
in which situations it
should be used. Someone
without anger or
zealousness will fail to
take action to protest
injustice. On the other
hand, excessive anger is
extremely harmful. It
causes quarrels, hurt
feelings, much pain and
suffering. What is
needed is the proper
balance to be used
according to the
directives of the
Torah... To be a
complete person every
trait must be used.
Fortunate is the person
who has mastered a
proper balance. (Rabbi
Zelig Pliskin, “Growth
Through Torah,” pp.
133-134)
Sparks for Discussion
-
How do you understand
Jacob’s “blessing” of
Simeon and Levi?
-
Is anger ever justified?
Under what
circumstances?
-
When is anger
appropriate? How should
appropriate anger be put
to use?
-
How can a person learn
to control inappropriate
anger?
From: United Synagogue for
Conservative Judaism. More
can be found on their
website
http://www.uscj.org
To access 'Reflections' from
previous years
please click on the link below:
Reflections 2009
Reflections 2008
Reflections 2007
Reflections 2006
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