Scrollers Preview: Parashat Vayechi

This week we complete our journey through the book of Genesis. Jacob is about to die, and he makes Joseph swear to bury him in the Cave of Machpelah in the land of Canaan. Jacob also blesses Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Menashe, and then proceeds to bless each of his own sons.

Jacob dies and is buried in the land of Canaan, brought there by an entourage of Egyptian dignitaries, along with his sons and their families. After Jacob’s death, Joseph’s brothers’ fear is revived that Joseph will now treat them badly in revenge. Joseph again reassures them that it was God who brought him down to Egypt, not them. We end the book of Genesis with Joseph’s death. He is placed in a coffin in Egypt. Egypt is the final word of the parasha.

The haftarah for this week also tells the story of a dying leader, King David, who gives blessings to his son Solomon and then dies and is buried.

In both of these texts we have the theme of one generation ending and passing a legacy on to the next generation. In the case of Jacob, the legacy is complex – he wants to pass on a spiritual legacy – a sense of God’s presence and protection to his grandchildren Ephraim and Menashe. And then in his blessings of the rest of the sons, we see more of a political legacy passed on to each tribe according to its strengths and weaknesses.

In the case of King David, there is some unfinished political business that he seems to want Solomon to complete for him, vis a vis his enemies. But at the same time, David also instructs his son to “Keep the charge of the Lord your God, walking in His ways and following his laws. . . .”

The story of Jacob ends with a sense anxiety – the children of Israel are in Egypt. And yet, there is hope for the future – Joseph makes his brothers swear to bring up his bones to the Land of Israel sometime in the future. The story of David too seems to end with anxiety. The text seems to go out of its way to declare that Solomon’s rule was “firmly established.”

It makes sense in a way that the first book of the Torah would end with themes of legacy and anxiety and unfinished business. Otherwise, why would we need four more books! The question, I suppose, is why does our sacred literature have these inconclusive endings? As we complete the book of Genesis, is there any sense of closure?

Scrollers Preview - Vayiggash

We have arrived at the emotional peak of the Joseph story this week, and probably one of the most emotional scenes in the Torah. Joseph, who has not yet revealed his identity to his brothers, listens to his brother Judah speak about the heartbreak it would cause their father Jacob if the brothers were to return home without Benjamin. And as Judah goes on to plead that Joseph take him as a slave in place of Benjamin, Joseph can no longer control his emotions. He breaks down in tears and says to his brothers “I am Joseph.”

Joseph continues, reassuring his brothers that “it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you. . . to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance.”(Gen. 45:5-7) This is the meaning that Joseph has chosen to derive from his having been sold down to Egypt as a slave by his own brothers. There was a larger purpose – to save life.

It is not entirely clear if the “extraordinary deliverance” to which Joseph is referring is the short-term rescue of his family from the famine or the dramatic Exodus that is to come 400 years from now. Nevertheless, Joseph’s willingness to forgive his brothers and to find a greater purpose in his own suffering is striking.

Can we relate to Joseph’s reading of the meaning of his life? He sees God’s hand in all that has happened to him. Is this because he has dreamed it or because God has come to him with prophecies? Or does he sees God’s hand because this is the only way he can remain whole spiritually?

In contrast to Joseph, his father Jacob, when introducing himself to Pharaoh, says, “Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns.”(Gen 47:9) As he looks back at the ups and downs of his life, Jacob seems embittered, without clarity about the meaning of it all. Although he is now reunited with the son he once though dead, instead of rejoicing, he complains.

Is Joseph being pollyanish here, in seeing God’s redemptive hand in the difficulties of his life, or is this the choice one makes in order to feel at peace and whole and strong?

Scrollers Preview

Parashat Miketz

12/14/12

Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

Last night I celebrated Chanukah with President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama at the White House, among a couple hundred other national Jewish leaders. It was an awesome experience in so many ways, and I think it will take some time to articulate what it meant in any organized way. But I want to try, while it’s really fresh, to reflect on this experience in a way that connects to our Torah portion this week.

I woke up yesterday morning, got dressed in fancy holiday wear, flew to Washington, got a manicure (which only happens about once every 3 years for me), and showed up at the White House. There we were, a couple hundred Jews, many wearing yarmulkes, some wearing black fedoras, all eating Glatt Kosher food. The West Point Jewish chorus sang Hanukkah songs, and another military academy orchestra played Hanukkah and other Jewish music. And we surrounded by Christmas trees – gorgeous Christmas trees and greenery and wreaths and lights all over the White House. We gathered to light the menorah with the President and Michelle. A Jewish chaplain who celebrated Chanukah last year in Afghanistan, had the honor of lighting the menorah, a menorah rescued from a severely damaged Long Island synagogue after Hurricane Sandy. And our voices filled the East Wing with the Hebrew blessings.

What does it mean to be an American Jew? What does it mean to be invited by a Christian President to celebrate Chanukah in a White House adorned for Christmas? What does it mean to have power and influence in our nation’s capital, as Jews? What is my unique message for my President, when I have his attention, when I’m grasping his hand for less than 1 minute?

This week Joseph, the Hebrew, is taken from his cell in an Egyptian dungeon. he is dressed and bathed, his hair is cut and he appears before one of the most powerful men on earth, to interpret a dream and to deliver a message. Joseph’s influence is so potent that Pharaoh makes him his right-hand man. Joseph gets an Egyptian name, and Egyptian wife, and he names his children “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction” and “God has made me forget my father’s house.”

So, what does it mean to show up at the White House as Jew, with a Jewish name, to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and to deliver a Jewish message? What does it mean to have my power and influence in this country celebrated and validated, and to have my religious culture celebrated in the President’s house? I left with my heart bursting. I am so proud. I am so, so grateful to be an American Jew. And I was very aware that we have a heavy responsibility. Our influence is louder and more powerful than our numbers. We are no longer “court Jews” who have to make nice, or who, like Joseph, have to assimilate and take on a non-Jewish identity in order to gain entrance to the seat of power.

I asked the President to not only stand strong with and for Israel, but to stand strong for peace. I told him, in my less than 1 minute, when he was holding my hand and looking me in the eye – that thousands of American rabbis want peace. I hope he got the message. And I hope I fulfilled my responsibility.

Scrollers Preview: Parashat Vayeitze

The parasha opens this week with Jacob on the road at night, fleeing from his brother, headed towards his uncle Lavan. He lays down to sleep and has a vision of angels going up and down a staircase. When he awakes, what stays with him is an awareness that God is with him. During the dream, God announces to him: “Remember, I am with you.” And after the dream Jacob vows that “If God remains with me. . . then the Lord shall be my God.”

After twenty years of serving his uncle Lavan in order to marry his two daughters, Rachel and Leah, twenty years in which Jacob was mistreated and deceived by his uncle, Jacob is still aware that God is with him. As Jacob secretly plans with his wives to leave Lavan’s camp, Jacob mentions God’s presence in his life twice. And so, the phrase “God is with him” appears four times in this parasha.

The word “to steal” also appears four times in this parasha. As they are leaving Lavan’s house, Rachel steals his household idols, and Jacob’s stealthy departure is described as “stealing Lavan’s heart.”

God is with Jacob, a sign of connection and wholeness and safety. And yet, there is deep conflict, deception, and stealing, which all create a sense of disconnection, fragmentation and danger. So – what is Jacobs’ experience of these twenty years? What does it mean to him that God is and has been with him this whole time? Do we sometimes have to separate from another person, or another people – in order to truly experience safety and connection in our lives as a whole? Is it possible to feel that God is with us in the midst of conflict, deception and darkness?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Toldot

Now that Isaac has married Rebekah, his story truly begins, according to the opening lines of our Parasha, “This is the story of Isaac.” As we read Isaac’s story, there is a sense of déjà vu.

Rebekah is barren, like Sarah. Like in Abraham and Sarah’s story, there is a famine in the land, and Isaac passes his wife off as his sister, fearing that the inhabitants of the area will kill him because Rebekah is so beautiful.

And then, Isaac redigs wells that his father Abraham had dug a generation before – wells which the Philistines had stopped up. Isaac gives those wells the same names his father had given them.

Isaac has two sons, like his parents. And one son, Jacob, is sent away to the “homeland” to find a wife for himself, paralleling Abraham’s servant’s journey to the same place to find a wife for Isaac in the previous generation.

After Abraham almost sacrifices Isaac on the mountain, the Torah doesn’t show them together again until Isaac and Ishmael come together to bury their father. We may imagine that Isaac and Abraham never saw each other again alive. And yet, Isaac’s life is tracing the lines of his father’s life. He is redigging the wells that his father had previously dug, literally and figuratively.

As we study together, let us look for the parallels and look for the places where Abraham and Isaac’s lives differ. Why these variations on the same themes from the prior generation? Is this the Torah’s way of showing us God’s hand in events? And why these themes – barrenness, sibling conflict, exile? What is the message behind them about how the covenant is passed down from one generation to the next?

Parashat Chayei Sarah - preview by lay leader Linda Sherman

Parashat Chayei Sarah

Genesis 23:1 – 25:18

November 10, 2012

I AM WOMAN; HEAR ME ROAR…..REALLY….IT’S BEEN THAT KIND OF WEEK.  As a proud feminist, I was honored and delighted to be asked to lead this particular torah study on Sarah, matriarch of Jewish women.

This was the same torah portion that I did for my bat mitzvah, 40 years ago on November 11, 1972.  So, this parashat has a particular significance for me, on many levels.  It is fascinating to think about how the world of Jewish women looked to a young girl just turning thirteen vs. how it looks today to a (slightly) older woman with 40 years more experience.

As a young girl, I didn’t yet realize that women weren’t always treated equally, or that there were things some folks felt we couldn’t do or accomplish because we were women.  I was very naïve about such things, and never questioned my parents and teachers who said I could be whatever I wanted to be, do whatever I wanted to do.  I was wonderfully naïve about such things growing up.  My focus on my torah portion wasn’t even on Sarah, but on Rebecca, who I thought was quite brave to leave her home and family to travel across the desert to meet a strange man and be his wife.  What courage, I thought.  What faith she must have had to say “I will go.”  My older, more cynical eyes, now say, why ever not?  What did she have to lose?  She had an overbearing brother and an abusive father – and both happy to sell her off to the highest bidder.  Of course she wanted to leave, how relieved she must have been to say, “I will go.”

This brings me to my question today; not of feminism per se, but of perspective.  What a difference a few years, or a few decades, or a few millennium make.  I wanted to talk about the matriarchs and their power; how women in the torah seem so strong and how they seem to “get it” so much easier than the men.  But, the more I read, the less sense it made.

·         Is this a story of transition, from one generation (Abraham/Sarah) to another (Isaac/Rebecca)?

·         Is Sarah’s death linked to (the Akedah) Isaac’s close escape from death at Abraham’s hand on orders from God?  Does Sarah die instead of Isaac, because God forms a covenant with him and for his seed after him?  Or is she overcome with grief upon hearing (or dreaming) about what happened?

·         Why were Abraham and Sarah in different places when she died?  Had she left him? 

·         Why so much detail about where and how to bury Sarah?  Why this particular piece of land?  The chapter ends with Abraham’s death and burial in the same place.  What if Abraham had died first?  Would the story have turned out any differently?

·         Is this just an elaborate plot device to set up a family plot for future generations?  Or maybe this is all about property rights.

There is no shortage of commentary on this parashat.  Much of it depends on the perspective you bring to it when you read the section.  What do you want to believe?  What do you want it to mean?  So, being a true skeptic, another gift of 40 years of experience, I went back to the original text.  What did it actually say, without interpretation or embellishment?  Below is a surprisingly short summary of every mention of Sarai/Sarah in the book of Genesis. 

·         Chapter 11 – we are introduced to Abram’s wife Sarai and told she was barren.

·         Chapter 12 – Abram took Sarai to Canaan, where he passed her off as his sister and she was taken into Pharaoh’s house.  Then the Lord plagued Pharaoh, and they were released.

·         Chapter 16 – Sarai gave Hagar to Abram to conceive a child, then dealt harshly with Hagar who ran away, and then was told by the angel of the Lord to go back to Sarai.

·         Chapter 17 – Sarai’s name is changed to Sarah, and the Lord blesses her and promises she will bear a son at age 90 and be a mother of nations and establishes a covenant with her.

·         Chapter 18 – the Lord sends 3 angels to tell Abraham and Sarah they will have a son; Sarah laughs and is admonished by God.

·         Chapter 20 – Abraham and Sarah journey south, and again he passes Sarah off as his sister to Abimelech, with similar results as with the Pharaoh.

·         Chapter 21 – Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, named Isaac.  Sarah tells Abraham to cast out Ishmael so he will not inherit with her son.

·         Chapter 23 – And the life of Sarah was a hundred and seven and twenty years, and she died in Hebron.  Abraham came to weep for her, and then he buried her in the cave of the field of Machpelah in Canaan, where he was later buried as well.

One of the things I enjoy most about Holy Scrollers is the abundance of perspectives that we bring to any discussion.  There are folks who are old and young; male and female; products of book-learning or the school of hard knocks; liberals and conservatives; artists and scholars. 

So, what is your perspective?  What does this Parashat, or even all of the above, tell us about Sarah’s life, about women in the Torah?  And, when combined with the rest of this parashat about Rebecca (and Isaac), does this tell us any more about how Judaism is relevant to women, or how we “go forward in our faith”?  Or, is it just an elaborate instruction manual?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Vayera

 Friends – I hope that you are all well, safe and warm. Please come for hot coffee and bagels tomorrow!  It will be good to see you…

In this parasha, we have a series of critical episodes: the visitation of Abraham and Sarah by divine messengers who relay the news that Sarah will give birth to a son; Abraham and God’s dialogue regarding the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah; the story of Lot, living in Sodom, taking in the 2 angels/messengers, and then escaping with his wife and daughters; another sister/wife episode, this time with King Avimelech; the birth of Isaac; the casting out of Hagar and Ishmael; and the Akedah – the binding of Isaac.

These episodes really feel like they are a connected whole, especially because of the use of some key words that repeat throughout. One is the root “ra-ah”, “to see.” Another is “tzachak,”, “to laugh”, another is “tzedek,” or “righteousness/justice”, and lastly, “tza-ak,” “to cry out.” Interesting how these last three words begin and end with the same sound.

As we study, I want to keep track of when the Torah text uses these verbs and see how they lay the groundwork in the first few episodes that lead to the climactic almost sacrifice of Isaac at the end. How might these verbs combine to tell a story of faith, and how may they help us understand what faith really is in the world of the Torah? How is faith a combination of seeing, laughing, crying and pursuing justice?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Lech L'cha

The Etz Hayyim commentary distinguishes between God’s first two attempts, through Adam/Eve and then Noah and his family, to create humankind so that they will choose to do good, and this new attempt, through Abram and Sarai (later known as Abraham and Sarah.) According to the commentary, in this Parasha, God “now changes the approach. Instead of asking one individual or one family to be good in isolation, God seeks to create a community, a people, descendants of a God-fearing couple, in the hope that the members of that community would sustain and reinforce each other. In that way, ordinary people would be capable of displaying extraordinary behavior.”

This is a powerful assertion, that a community is what is needed for good values to endure in the world. As we study together, I want us to ask ourselves if this communal aspect is what distinguishes the covenant with Abraham from God’s relationships with Adam and Noah and the other false starts in the beginning of the Torah. How is asking Abram to “go forth” from his native land and his father’s house to the land that God will show him qualitatively different from God’s choosing of Noah or God’s creation of Adam?

We are presented with a series of covenantal moments in this parasha –from the creepy scene of the covenant between the pieces to the name changes of Abram to Abraham and Sarai to Sarah, to the commandment to circumcise all males. How do these encounters between God and humans lay the groundwork for a community that will, as the commentary says, “sustain and reinforce each other” that “ordinary people would be capable of displaying extraordinary behavior”?

We will also read about Sarah giving her Egyptian servant Hagar to Abraham to have a child through her, and about Hagar’s subsequent banishment. As well, we will read about Abraham’s passing Sarah off as his sister in Egypt, and about Abraham’s participation in a war between two groups of kings. If this parasha is about a particular covenantal community, what is the text saying about other communities with whom we interact?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Noah

Scrollers Preview

Parashat Noah

Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

In the Women’s Torah Commentary, feminist scholar Tikvah Frymer-Kensky writes that the biblical flood is not primarily a punishment but “a means of getting rid of the thoroughly polluted world and starting again with a well-washed one.” Throughout our parasha, we find the Hebrew root “macha,” which means “to erase.” God wants to start over again with a clean slate.

But the thing is, God doesn’t really start over with a clean slate. Yes, the polluted world is “thoroughly washed,” and all that has life-breath on the earth is killed off. But God preserves the source of the pollution by piling Noah and his family and representatives of all creatures  into the Ark. God admits that the “the devisings of the human mind are evil from his youth,” yet God doesn’t completely rid the earth of us. God could have decided to completely erase and truly start over, but God doesn’t do this.

Instead, God preserves humanity in the same form that God originally created us. The new element that God introduces is a new covenant – a pact with humanity that God will never again destroy the world with a flood, and that humans will be held accountable for their propensity for violence and their spilling of innocent blood. Does being created in God’s image mean that humans will necessarily have that propensity for violence? Has God become more self-aware about God’s propensity for violence?

I look forward to swimming in the deep waters of this text with you tomorrow!

Shabbat Shalom

Scrollers Preview - V'zot Ha-B'rachah

Shabbat Shalom everyone! Just a head’s up that if the weather is dry tomorrow morning, we will hold our Scrollers session in our beautiful Sukkah, in honor of the holiday. Also, I will begin our session with a quick conversation about this group hosting an Oneg Shabbat. The Membership committee is inviting various synagogue groups to take responsibility for hosting one Friday night Oneg during the year.

On the Shabbat during the intermediate days of Sukkot, we traditionally are supposed to read a passage from Exodus. Over the years I alternated between studying that passage and the final Parasha of the Torah, V’zot Ha-Brachah. This year I thought we would do V’Zot Ha-brachah. This final passage of the Torah does not have a Shabbat assigned to it. On Simchat Torah, we traditionally read it and then go back to Breishit, the beginning of the Torah. However, we don’t always have a chance to study it. We will also take a look at the Haftarah for Simchat Torah, which is the first part of the Book of Joshua.

With these readings, we complete the story and the life of Moses, with his final blessing of the tribes, his death and his burial.  And then, with the haftarah, we gain a sense of continuity, as the Israelites accepts Joshua as their new leader, and they prepare to finally cross the Jordan river into the Land of Israel.

After last week’s poem of Moses, which is full of warnings of the People’s future straying and punishment, we get some more poetry here. But this time, the poetry is full of hope and blessing for success and fertility and security in the land. We also have a chance to mourn Moses’ death, and to read about his burial.

As we read, I want us to think about our relationship to Moses, personally and communally. How would we want to remember him after his burial. How do we see him? At the end of his life, he blesses the tribes as a patriarch from Genesis would bless his own children. Do we see Moses as a parental figure? Or, is he something wholly other than that – a singular prophet – the only one who ever knew God face to face?

Scroller Preview - Parashat Ha'azinu

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Ha’azinu
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

The Messenger Came in the Night
Rachel (translated by Robert Friend)

The messenger came in the night
and sat on my bed,
his body all protruding bones,
the eye-holes deep in his head;

and I knew time’s hands were dangling
(as though the words were unspoken),
that the bridge between future and past
had broken.

A bony fist now threatened,
and I heard aghast
sardonic laughter that said:
“This poem will be your last.”

This parasha represents the beginning of the end of Moses’ poetry. One more Torah portion after this, and we hear his voice no more.

Thanks to Suzanne Levine, I recently read an article from a poetry journal that spoke of the poem as witness. From what I could understand of this very scholarly article, the poem is as close as you can get to putting the present into words before the present slips away into the past. Poetry has the power to bear witness to and to evoke the immediacy of experience and of feelings.

In her poem above, the early Zionist poet Rahel alludes to her poetic voice, her very life, as the bridge between future and past. And she anticipates how with her death that bridge will be broken. Perhaps she fails, however, to recognize that her poetry will continue to bridge those places for her devoted readers. When we read her poem, we are transported to the present of that composition. We become the bridge.

Moses opens his poem, Ha’azinu, with the words,

“Give ear, O heavens, let me speak;
Let the earth hear the words I utter!”

Even now that Moses is gone, his poem bears witness, and calls all of Creation to witness, the message of the last moments of his life. In the final moments of his life, Moses reminds the people of how God been there for them, steady as a rock, and how God has sheltered them like a mother bird. He prophesies that the Israelites will stray and will reject God, that they will forget. God will threaten to hide God’s face from them, but God will ultimately save them again.

As we study this poem together I want to ask - what is Moses actually feeling and experiencing in this moment of his life? How does he see his life and his death? What does he want to bear witness to, with this poem, which will be his last?

Scrollers Preview - Ki Tetzei

Holy Scrollers Preview
Parashat Ki Tetzei: Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19
September 1, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg


This week’s parasha mostly consists of issues between people, whether between neighbors, within a family, between the underprivileged and other members of society, or even between people and animals.

A theme running through many of these laws is that of dignity. Even if we need to take the only garment a person has as a pledge for a loan, we need to return it to that person every night so that her or she may sleep in it. We are not allowed to take someone’s upper millstone in pawn, because that is akin to taking their life (their means of grinding grain for bread or olives for oil.) We must leave the overlooked sheafs and grapes in our fields for the poor and the stranger. These and many other laws in the parasha emphasize people’s humanity and aim for a sense of equality and fair treatment within society.

In addition to these laws, issues pertaining to women are very prominent in this Torah portion. Here, it becomes more challenging to see the theme of dignity and humanity in the laws.
We read that if a woman is found not to be a virgin when she marries, she is stoned to death on her father’s doorstep; that a virgin who is raped is then forced to marry her rapist; that a wife who ceases to please her husband can be given a bill of divorce; and that a woman who is widowed before she has children must marry her husband’s brother.

Most of these laws seek to ensure that women get married and stay married. In the context of a traditional society, adult unmarried women are unprotected and do not have independent means to sustain themselves. And so these laws are meant to protect women. But it is challenging to know how to approach these laws as a modern person and a feminist. We can understand that they are meant to protect women in their context, but this is not satisfying. The text does not acknowledge the actual experience of women who are raped, for instance, and what it might mean for them to have to marry their rapists.

In her essay on this parasha in the Women’s Commentary, Judith Plaskow approaches these laws through a larger theme of the parasha, that of memory. In this parasha, we are told to remember that we were slaves in the land of Egypt, and this is why we are to observe certain commandments concerning how we treat the poor and the widow. We are told to remember what Amalek did to us as we escaped Egypt, attacking us behind, and therefore we are commanded to avenge Amalek and blot out their memory.

But then there are other things that the Torah portion alludes to which we don’t seem to remember very clearly, such as Miriam’s leadership and legacy and the reason for her being stricken with “tzara’at.” And there are yet other things that we aren’t told to remember at all. In Plaskow’s words, “The Torah in this section offers no store of memories of women’s perspectives and experiences that could provide the basis for an alternative ethic.” Meaning, we remember certain things (we were slaves) and those memories obligate us to act according to certain ethical standards. But we don’t remember other things, such as what it might be like to be a rape victim who is forced to marry her rapist.

This points to the ethics of memory itself and raises the question of what we choose to remember and act on and which memories we choose to suppress, and how does that choice affect us, our families, and our communities in the present?

I look forward to exploring this question further with you tomorrow.

Shabbat Shalom

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Shoftim

Scroller Preview
Parashat Shoftim
8/25/12
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

Shabbat Shalom everyone – I hope you had a good two weeks with your lay leaders!

This week’s Torah portion is called “Shoftim,” which means “judges,” and the main focus of the parasha is justice. In Deuteronomy 16: 20 we have the famous verse, “justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” According to our Etz Hayyim commentary, “The term ‘pursue’ carries strong connotations of effort, eagerness. This implies more than merely respecting or following justice”; we must actively pursue it.

Most of the parasha consists of legal material, laying out procedures and policies regarding the justice system the Israelites are to implement in the land. We receive instructions regarding placing judges and magistrates in all of our settlements and making sure that they judge justly. The parasha includes laws regarding witnesses, including false witnesses, outlawing bribes, and enforcing verdicts. We also have laws concerning the cities of refuge and how to deal with a corpse of a murder victim that is found in the open with no evidence of who the murderer was.

I recommend reading Elliot Dorff’s excellent essay at the back of our Etz Hayyim commentary entitled “Justice.” There, he lays out the Biblical and then later Rabbinic approach to the concept of justice. We see in Torah a message that in order for us to achieve the justice that God demands, we need to have just procedures in place, and the outcomes of the court and justice systems must be just, moral and good.

But justice goes beyond even procedure and substance. There is also a concept, introduced in Deuteronomy 6:18, that we are required to do “what is right and good in the sight of the Lord.” This has been interpreted by the rabbis as the basis for asserting that we are at times obliged to act “beyond the letter of the law.”

According to Torah, justice is “a divine imperative,” in Dorff’s words. God is the ultimate judge, and we are meant to imitate God. Justice is a foundation stone of holiness itself. The laws of justice are even seen as evidence of God’s love for Israel, and pursuing justice can be a way for humans to come closer to the Divine.

As we study together tomorrow, I look forward to exploring the Torah’s concept of justice, from the procedural to the more philosophical.

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Vaetchanan

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Va-etchanan
August 4, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

Parashat Va-etchanan is an amazingly rich Torah portion, and it is full of paradox. In it, Moses recalls pleading with God to let him go into the Land and getting the harsh response from God that he should just shut up and stop whining!

Moses also spends a lot of time reminding the people to follow the mitzvot that they are to observe in the land. He reminds them of the awesome experience of Sinai – that this experience should continue to echo in the People’s consciousness, calling them to continue to worship the One God whose voice they heard out of the fire. Moses is quite concerned that the people will be lured to worship other gods.

As part of the remembrance of Sinai, Moses repeats the 10 Commandments. And he frames his exhortation to adhere to the commandments with the powerful, enduring words of the Sh’ma. We are to love YHVH our God with all of ourselves – mind, spirit, and strength.

In the final chapter of this parasha Moses instructs the Israelites to wipe out the 7 nations living in Canaan and to destroy all of their religious places, idols and pillars. This section concludes with another beautiful passage about how God chose us from among the peoples out of love.

As I read the parasha this year I kept feeling like I was on a pendulum, swinging swiftly back and forth from messages of fear and punishment to messages of love and special treatment. We see these contrasts even in a single verse. For instance, the last few verses of the portion read, “Know, therefore, that only the LORD your God is God, the steadfast God who keeps His covenant faithfully to the thousandth generation of those who love Him and keep His commandments, but who instantly requites with destruction those who reject Him.”

This contrast echoes a much larger paradox – that of Moses’ experience of God throughout the Torah. We see again and again in the Torah, Moses appealing to God’s qualities of mercy and compassion and patience, asking God to forgive God’s people. This happens at key moments, for instance after the Golden Calf incident and the incident with the spies. Typically, God kills off some of the Israelites but forgives the People as a whole and allows them to move forward in relationship with God. But ultimately, at the end of the Torah, we have this story that opens our parasha this week – a story of Moses begging God to forgive him, and of God refusing to be moved to forgiveness.

What do we make of these sudden swings from compassion to destruction? What do we make of God’s treatment of Moses? What do we make of a tradition that tells us that God loves us - that asks us to love God with all of ourselves – and which depicts God as quick to punish a person the instant that person turns away?

Scrollers Preview - Mattot-Masei

Scrollers Preview Parashat Matot-Masei Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg We have come to the double parasha at the end of the Book of Numbers. The Israelites are at the threshold of the Promised Land. The next book, Deuteronomy, consists of Moses’ final speech to the Israelites. There, Moses summarizes and remembers incidents from earlier books. But the end of the Book of Numbers is really the end of the narrative of the Torah. This parasha includes some additional laws, including laws about vows, especially the status of women’s vows, and an amendment to the law of inheritance for women. We have a bloody war against the Midianites. Instructions are given on the division of the land of Canaan among the tribes, and we get the story of why the Reubenites, Gadites, and the ½ tribe of Mannasseh are granted holdings outside of Canaan, on the East side of the Jordan river. We also have instructions concerning the towns of the Levites, six of which are set aside as cities of refuge. This year I’m noticing that unlike the endings of previous books, the ending of the Book of Numbers leaves me neither with a sense of completion nor of suspense. Genesis ends with the sons of Jacob in Egypt and a sense of impending doom, Exodus ends with God’s Presence resting on the completed Tabernacle and a sense of hope that God is with us, Leviticus ends with blessings and curses as consequences for Israel’s obeying or disobeying the laws. Here in Numbers, I know the story is over, but it doesn’t really feel like an ending. Parashat Masei opens with a recounting the various encampments of the Israelites throughout their wilderness journey, and this can provide a moment of reflection on what they’ve gone through and where they’ve come from over these 40 years. And we have a view into the future, with the division of the land among the tribes. But this year I feel the need for Deuteronomy, Moses’ personal reflection and exhortation to the people. I need an emotional, prophetic, poetic ending. We don’t get that here at the end of Numbers. Perhaps that’s why the editors did include Deuteronomy. As we conclude this book, I want to hear your thoughts on whether these parashot are a satisfying conclusion of Numbers for you. What do you think the Israelites need to hear and/or do at this point in their journey? What does it mean to end a period of wandering and to transition into a more settled life in the Land, where the expectation is that we will be here for generations – perhaps even forever? How would it actually feel to be one of this new generation of Israelites, who never knew Egypt, who have only known the wilderness, looking over the steppes of Moab toward Jericho? Are we eager? Afraid? What do we imagine our relationship with God will be like once we cross over? How would you end this book?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Balak

Scrollers Preview Parashat Balak Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg July 7, 2012 This week we mostly take a break from the Israelites’ constant misbehavior, although it returns with a vengeance at the very end of the parasha. This parasha mostly provides some comic relief, as we get to watch a foreign king and a foreign prophet, Balak and Balaam, make a fools of themselves. Here, we receive some much-needed comfort and assurance, that despite all of our rebellious tendencies, God still wants to bless and protect our People. This message is delivered in the form of what feels like a folk tale or a parody (or both!) Asses speak, prophets are blind, and our enemies cannot help themselves from blessing us. Here is a brief overview of the story: Balak, a king of the Moabites, enemies of the Israelites, sees our people camping out nearby and is frightened by how numerous we are – a horde! He sends for a prophet Balaam to curse the Israelites as a way to weaken them and assure the Moabites victory in battle. God (our God, YHVH) tells Balaam that he will only be allowed to speak the words that God puts in his mouth. Then we have a delightful scene with Balaam and his she-ass. The ass sees an angel with a sword standing in the way, but Balaam can’t see it. The ass swerves three times, Balaam beats her, and finally the ass actually speaks. She berates him for beating up on him. God then opens Balaam’s eyes, and he understands the ass’ behavior. The climax of this episode is a series of attempts by Balaam to curse Israel. Each time Balak brings Balaam to a new vantage point to view Israel from a different angle; each time Balak offers up very expensive burnt offerings; and each time, Balaam pronounces blessings instead of curses. Balak and Balaam then go their separate ways. The parashah ends with a theme which continues next week – that of the Israelites whoring after the Moabite women and their gods. Here we go again, rebelling…that comic relief didn’t last too long. On these beautiful days of summer, I feel especially a sense of grace – that I’m being blessed whether or not I deserve it. Perhaps we can simply enjoy this humorous story this week. And we can ask whether this story is here to introduce a sense of God’s compassion in the midst of the predominantly harsh episodes of the wilderness.

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bamidbar

Scrollers Preview Bamidbar May 26, 2012 Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg In the Women’s Torah Commentary, Rachel Havrelock writes about Bamidbar: Although the scrupulous detail of this parasha and other parts of the book may not immediately grip the reader, the underlying idea is that the ordering of the community – and by extension, one’s life – creates the space for encounters with the Divine. The power of this book emerges from the image of the encampment’s concentric rectangles radiating inward to a core of supreme holiness. In this geometry of moving from the periphery to the center, the tribes encamp around the Levites, who encircle the high priestly family, who surround the Tabernacle’s curtained walls that enclose the court that buffers the Holy of Holies. This symmetry –constructed on the ground as well as in prose – is a collective act of ordering chaos that emulates the creation of the world in Genesis 1:1-2:4. In her introductory essay, Havrelok notes tension throughout the book of Numbers “between order and chaos, culture and nature, obedience and rebellion.” In this opening parasha of Numbers, the military census and the instructions for how the tribes will encamp around the Tabernacle set up an expectation of order, containment and symmetry. But the book is full of Israelites getting out of hand and overstepping boundaries. This tension leads me to ask – is it true that boundaries and order create the space for meeting the Divine, as Havrelock posits? Can we meet God in the chaos? What role does the Divine have in the rebellions themselves? What is the message of all of this order when the rest of the book is all about people overthrowing that order? We will also read the Hosea passage chosen for the Haftarah this week. This passage represents the paradigmatic use of the metaphor of God and Israel as husband and wife. And of course, the wife oversteps the bounds of the marriage and whores with other men (gods.) Here too, there is order and chaos. Looking forward to wrestling with the text with you tomorrow morning! Shabbat Shalom, Rachel

Parashat B'har-B'chukotai

Holy Scrollers Preview Parashat B’har- B’chukotai Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg We conclude the book of Leviticus this week with a double parasha. The first parasha, B’har, lays out the laws concerning the sabbatical and the jubilee year – periods where we are commanded to let the land lie fallow. It also includes laws about how to treat a kinsman who is “in straits,” providing a kind of social safety net for those who fall on hard times. One theme that permeates this parasha is that of “security.” We are assured that if we follow these laws, we will dwell securely in the land. What does it really mean to have a sense of security, and what does leaving the land fallow have to do with it? Where does security actually come from – defensive walls? Strong armies? Owning land? The parasha seems to provide a counterintuitive answer to this question: “ . . . for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident with Me” (25:23). The second parasha, B’chukotai, lays out a vision of destruction and horror – the curses that would befall the Israelites if they did not adhere to the covenant and follow the laws. These curses seem to be specifically linked to the laws of the sabbatical and jubilee. If we disobey those laws, then God throws us off the land so that the land can recover the lost years of sabbatical that we did not provide for it. The principles that are meant to keep us secure (letting the land lie fallow, creating a safety net for the community) are thrown upside down in these curses – the land will not give its fruit, we will be exiled from the land, and our community will be dispersed. Again – what is the Torah telling us about where true security lies?

Scrollers Preview - Vayahkhel Pikudei

Scrollers Preview
March 17, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

After all of the upheaval in last week’s Torah portion, after the Israelites created an idol for themselves and God punished thousands of them with death by sword and plague, after God had pledged to remove God’s presence from the midst of the Israelites, here is how this week’s double portion ends:

When Moses had finished the work, the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud had settled upon it and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. When the cloud lifted form the Tabernacle, the Israelites would set out, on their various journeys; but if the cloud did not lift, they would not set out until such time as it did lift. For over the Tabernacle a cloud of the Lord rested by day, and fire would appear in it by night, in the view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys.

The bulk of these two parashot – Vayakhel and Pikudei – is taken up with the detailed description of the fashioning and assemblage of the various parts and pieces of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The second parasha in the pair accounts for every part and piece of the tent, every jewel in the breastplate. And the last chapter describes Moses setting everything up.

Imagine what it might have felt like, after the enormous mess with the Golden Calf, to methodically construct a home for God, according to God’s instructions. And then, to watch as God’s Presence comes to rest in that place. What was it like to be the people in this moment? What was it like to be Bezalel and Oholiab, the skilled artisans? What was it like to be Moses? How about Aaron, who facilitated the idol worship and knows that very soon he will take the position of High Priest?

As they sewed and sawed, casted metal and wove fabric, what was going through everyone’s minds? Did they believe that God really would stick with them and come to dwell in this place? Was there a feeling of desperation? Shame? Guilt?

What does it feel like to be forgiven?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Ki Tissa

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Ki Tissa
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg


Only a few weeks ago, at the foot of Mount Sinai, the Israelites entered into a covenant with God, a marriage of sorts. God delivered the ketubah (wedding contract) to Moses in the form of two stone tablets, inscribed on both sides with the terms of the covenant. This is how we will affirm and re-affirm our love, our devotion to God – by keeping the terms of this covenant. A couple of lines down on the first side of the first tablet, we find the prohibition against worshipping any concrete image.

This week’s Torah portion opens with God completing the inscription on the tablets. Moses is about to descend the mountain, in his hands, the two “stone tablets inscribed with the finger of God.” The Hebrew verb used for God’s “finishing” of this inscription is “kalloto.” The Midrash connects this word to the Hebrew word for “his bride,” or “kallato,” suggesting that the tablets represent the solemnizing of the marriage between God and the Israelites, represented by Moses.

In that moment of completion, God tells Moses to hurry down, because the people have made themselves a molten calf and bowed low to it and sacrificed to it, saying: “This is your god, O Israel. . .” It didn’t take long for the people to go from wedding to betrayal.

As we know, Moses sees the pagan celebration at the foot of the mountain, and he smashes the tablets. He also sends the Levites among the people to slay thousands of people. Then he makes his way back up the mountain, hoping to “win forgiveness” for the Israelites’ sin. God does not forgive everyone. God sends a plague to kill those who are guilty of the idol worship, but God does not wipe everyone out. God then declares that God will no longer walk in the midst of the people.

As I read the parasha this year, what amazed me most is that Moses manages to persuade God to change God’s mind and to continue to walk with the people. My question for all of us this week is, why?

Scrollers preview for 3/3/12 - Parashat Tetzaveh

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Tetzaveh
March 3, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

This week in Parashat Tetzaveh, we continue with the instructions for creating a sacred space among the Israelites for God’s Presence to dwell. Last week we received the instructions for the Mishkan, or Tabernacle. This week, the institution of the priesthood is created, and we receive the instructions for their garments.

The scholar Nahum Sarna writes in the JPS commentary, “Just as sacred space must be differentiated from profance space, so the occupants of the sacred office must be distinguishable from the laity. Hence, special attire, the insignia of office, is ordained for Aaron, the archetypal High Priest, and for his sons, the priests of lower rank.” As we read this section about the priestly vestments, we will not only dive into many details of colors of wool and linen, hems and fringes. We will also come across words such as “l’chavod u’l’tif’aret,” “for dignity and beauty.” We will learn that the High Priest carries the names of the tribes, inscribed on stones, on his shoulders and over his heart, “l’zikaron,” “for remembrance.” The Torah spends so much time on these outfits for a reason – the vestments transform the regular people of Aaron and his sons into walking symbols.

There is a wonderful book read by many rabbinical students these days called The Rabbi as Symbolic Exemplar: By the Power Vested in Me, by Rabbi Jack Bloom (from Connecticut, by the way!) In this book, Bloom examines how the symbolic role that serves as the source of the rabbi’s authority and power can lead to disillusionment and disenchantment. It details how symbolic exemplarhood is created, what its downside is, what power it offers, how it can be used effectively, how rabbis and other clergy can deal with their inner lives, and what can be done to help them stay “human” while maintaining their leadership.

I recently spoke with Lizz Goldstein, a rabbinical student who grew up at CBSRZ. She interviewed me about this notion of the rabbi as “symbolic examplar.” It was fascinating for me to reflect on how the symbolic power of my role can be used effectively and how it can sometimes get in the way of folks relating to me as “human.” Is this what God intended for the priests? What are the upsides and downsides for the priests of being these walking symbols, and what are the upsides and downsides for the people? Do we need to have symbolic exemplars, whether priests of rabbis? Is it possible to create a sacred community without leaders with “power vested in them”?

On this Shabbat that anticipates Purim, I look forward to investigating the power of the costumed professional!

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Mishpatim

Holy Scrollers Preview
Parashat Mishpatim
February 18, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

This week’s Parashah, Mishpatim, contains the laws of what has come to be known as the “Book of the Covenant.” Last week the people stood at the foot of Mount Sinai and directly experienced God’s powerful presence. They heard God pronounce a set of broad commandments of ethics and ritual. But the covenant doesn’t stop with broad statements and values as given in the Ten Commandments. The covenant isn’t concluded until this week, when God gives specific laws that govern people’s daily domestic, mundane lives. Not only do we receive a “Constitution” that sets out the core values of the society God expects us to create, but we also receive case law, and in the coming weeks and months, we’ll receive laws pertaining to the priests.

In Parashat Mishpatim we receive laws governing our daily lives, such as:“When a fire is started and spreads to thorns, so that stacked, standing or growing grain is consumed, the one who started the fire must make restitution.” (Exodus 22:5) And: “If you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless help raise it.” (Exodus 23:5)

The Etz Hayyim commentary quotes Moshe Greenberg who wrote, “Outside of Israel, you would have to go to three different addresses to get the material. . . in Mishpatim. The Torah combines law (as in the Code of Hammurabi), cultic instructions (as from a priestly manual,) and moral exhortation (as found in wisdom literature). This is the only Near Eastern literature in which an amalgam of these three interests is found: law, cult and wisdom.”

The Torah is unique in that all of these kinds of instructions are found in one place, and all of these instructions are part of a covenant with the Divine.

• What might this teach us about our unique brand of Israelite (or Jewish) spirituality? What does it mean to us that laws pertaining to the details of everyday human existence have a Divine source?

The Torah also stands out in contrast to the Code of Hammurabi and other Mespotamian documents in that the rules are set before the entire community. According to the Women’s Torah Commentary, “the Laws of Hammurabi stipulate that only the aggrieved party could have the laws read to him; in Mesopotamian society, public knowledge of the law was not assumed.”

Our Torah portion concludes with a very public ceremony in which the whole Book of the Covenant is read to the people. Then Moses conducts a sacrificial covenant ritual involving dashing blood on an altar and then dashing blood on the people. The covenant is transparent – its terms are known to all, and it includes everyone.

• How might this be experienced by a people who have just been freed from slavery, where rules were probably arbitrary and arbitrarily enforced? How does this system set up a different kind of power structure between the people and God versus the kind of power dynamic you might have in other Mesopotamian cultures?

Scrollers preview for 2/11/12 - Parashat Yitro

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Yitro
February 11, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

This week the Israelites accept God’s offer to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” in exchange for following God’s laws.

According to the Etz Hayyim commentary, Parashat Yitro can be seen as, “ ‘the hinge of the Torah,’ containing the pivotal event in the history of the Israelite people and indeed of all humanity. Through the revelation at Sinai, Israel is transformed from a band of freed slaves to a nation covenanted to God. A Rabbinic tradition (from the Midrash Sifrei Deuteronomy) has it that God created the world so that Israel would emerge as a model nation and all humanity would learn from their example. . . . Had Israel not accepted the Torah, the universe would have ceased to exist.”

According to this commentary, all of Torah – all of history, even - was leading us to this moment, the revelation at Sinai, and the rest of Torah and history flows from this moment. If so, how do we see our lives in light of the revelation at Sinai and the covenantal promise between God and our People? Do we feel connected to that moment? Do we believe that we were there? Do we get glimpses of revelation in our own lives today?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat B'shalach

Holy Scrollers Preview
Parashat B’shalach/Shabbat Shirah (the Shabbat of song)
Exodus 13:17-17:16
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg


This week’s Torah portion contains three sections. First, we have the climactic event of the splitting of the Sea of Reeds and the Israelites’ redemption. Following the narrative account of this dramatic moment, we have Shirat Ha-Yam (Song of the Sea), a poem that recounts the same events but from a different perspective and using a very different form and language. The parasha then turns to a very important topic for our people – perhaps even an obsession – food! In this section the Israelites complain and worry about the lack of food and water, and God provides manna, quail and sweet water.

This year what stood out to me in that first section were two things – first, that God takes the Israelites on a round-about path – the long way, rather than the short way. And, that the sea doesn’t really split in the dramatic amazing “whoosh!” that I have always had in my imagination. Rather, it takes all night long for the wind to blow the sea into two parts. Even during this last stage of redemption, the Israelites have to wander and wait.

In the poetic section of Shirat Ha-yam, I appreciated the Etz Hayyim commentary which, paraphrasing a Midrash, points out “From the day that God created the world until this moment, no one had sung praises to God – not Adam after having been created, not Abraham after being delivered from the fiery furnace, not Isaac when he was spared the knife, or Jacob when he escaped from wrestling with an angel and from Esau. But when Israel came to the sea and it parted for them, “Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Lord.” And God said, “for this I have been waiting.”

And for the last section about food, I enjoyed an essay by Rachel Havrelock in the Women’s Commentary. She asks, “Why are the people so hungry?” Her answer is that “Hunger is indicative of exile; and Israel is not sated until it finds a home.”

All of these observations and commentaries seem to point to a theme of delayed gratification. What are we to learn from our story in which freedom, satisfaction, and expressions of gratitude and joy are continually delayed? What might this theme have to teach us about faith?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bo

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Bo
January 28, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

This week, the drama of the Exodus continues, as God strikes Egypt with the last three plagues – locusts, darkness and the killing of the first-born. As I read the parasha I had a few observations that may be connected.

First - The Women’s Torah Commentary points out that the word “plague” in Hebrew, which is “nega,” is only used to describe the plagues of hail and the killing of the first born. This may be because those events each took human life. It is interesting to note that what we call the other “plagues” are referred to in Torah as “signs” and “marvels.”

Second – when Moses and Aaron leave Pharaoh’s presence before the last plague, Pharaoh tells them, “Take care not to see me gain, for the moment you look upon my face you shall die.” I thought this was an interesting parallel to Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush, when he is afraid to look at God, lest he die.

Lastly– the Hebrew root “SHaMaR” appears 7 times in Chapter 12. This root carries the meaning of watching over or protecting. The Hebrews are told to watch over the paschal lamb for 2 weeks before sacrificing it; they are instructed to watch over the matzah; and the night when God passes over the Israelites homes and strikes Egypt with the final plague is called a “vigil” or “miSHMeRet.”

I think these observations are connected to our conversation last week about God’s power, Pharaoh’s delusions about his own power, and the Israelites’ difficulty in acknowledging God’s power to save them. The plagues are more than just plagues – one set of them are signs and marvels meant to persuade both the Israelites and Pharaoh of God’s power over the land of Egypt and over Pharaoh. Pharaoh continues to address Moses and Aaron as if he believes that he is a god – they cannot look at his face again and live. And yet, they will look at his face again, after the final plague, when Pharaoh finally lets the people go. Finally, the Israelites’ experience of being watched over and protected gives them the faith to finally listen and go.

I look forward to hearing your reflections on these and your own observations.

On another note, we will also explore the theological problem of God’s slaying of innocent Egyptian children. We’ll discuss a very good essay from the Women’s commentary which addresses this problem.

Shabbat Shalom!

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Va-eira

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Va-eira
January 21, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

This week the plagues begin. As we read of the first seven plagues that come in this parasha, we’ll see they come in groups of three, in a symmetrical pattern. The first two in each group are always preceded by a warning, and the third comes without warning. Each time Pharaoh’s heart is hardened, and he does not let the Israelite people go. After the fourth plague of “Arov” (swarms of insects of wild beasts – we are not sure) Pharaoh almost relents, allowing the Israelites to make a sacrifice to God within the land of Egypt; and then to leave the land, but not to go very far. But once the plague ceases, Pharaoh becomes stubborn again. After the seventh plague of hail Pharaoh even admits, “I stand guilty this time. The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. . . I will let you go; you need stay no longer.” But once the hail ceases, Pharaoh’s heart stiffens again, and he doesn’t let them go.

Here we have yet another opportunity to explore the interplay between human action and Divine will.
Commenting on the phenomenon of Pharaoh’s “hardening of heart,” Moshe Greenberg writes:

“Although ‘hardening of the heart’ seems deterministic, events flow naturally from the ambitions and conflicts of a human being, Pharaoh, who is seized with the delusion of self-sufficiency. While events unfold under the providence of God, their unfolding is always according to the motives of the human beings through which God’s will is done without their realizing it . . . Pharaoh conducted himself in conformity with his own motives and his own Godless view of his status. God made it so, but Pharaoh had only to be himself to do God’s will.”

For Greenberg, God’s will flows through human action, in harmony with the interests and motives of the human beings through which God works.

In contrast to Greenberg, A.J. Heschel writes that “Those in whom viciousness becomes second nature, those in whom brutality is linked with haughtiness, forfeit their ability and therefore their right” to the gift of free will. Heschel seems to be saying that once a person has become accustomed to acting inhumanely, that person no longer has a will of his or her own. If I understand him correctly, a person whose ego is linked with viciousness and inhumanity is truly God-less. That person has become his or her own god, and therefore has lost the true Divine gift of free will.

In reading the parasha and trying to understand the relationship between Pharaoh and God, these thinkers each bring a different take on God and evil. I look forward to wrestling with this question with you on Shabbat!

Scrollers preview for 1/14/12 - Parashat Shemot

Scrollers Preview
Parashat Shemot
1/14/2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

In his introduction to the book of Exodus, in the Etz Hayyim commentary, Nahum Sarna echoes the question we have been asking in Scrollers these last couple of weeks about why the Torah doesn’t describe what happened during the 400 year period in Egypt. Sarna writes: “Details relating to the period of oppression are sparse; there is not mention of the inner life and communal existence of the people. This limitation suggests a high degree of selectivity, and the intent of the selective focus is didactic. In Exodus, God is the sole actor, the initiator of events. The various episodes project Israelite concepts of God and His relations to the world.”
I wonder if the use of this number, “400” is an exaggeration of the number “40” that we see throughout the Torah. It means we were there for a very very very very long time.
But this isn’t the point, according to Sarna. For him, the book of Exodus has a “selective focus” on the role of God in history and the life of our people. For him, God is the “sole actor, the initiator of events.”
Do we agree with Sarna? As we watch God related to humans in this book, can we see any continuity with Genesis’ depiction of the divine-human relationship? In Genesis we have lots of human action and initiative – Sarah kicks Ishmael out of the camp to insure Isaac’s inheritance of the covenant. Rebekah sends Jacob in to fool his father into giving him the blessing of the first born. Human beings play a part in moving God’s plan forward.
How about in the book of Exodus? Do we agree with Sarna that God is the “sole actor, the initiator of events?” When Moses slays the taskmaster who is beating a Hebrew slave, the commentary points out that Moses takes action before God does. And throughout our parasha, women – from the Hebrew midwives to Moses’ mother, to his sister Miriam, to Pharaoh’s daughter – take plenty of initiative. They take enormous risks. Where is God in their actions? Do human being move God to act?