Scrollers Preview - Parashat Terumah

In its introduction to the Haftarah portion this week (which is about the building of the First Temple), the Etz Hayyim commentary points out an interesting difference between the account of the building of the Tabernacle in the desert and the building of the First Temple in Jerusalem. 

In our parasha, the Israelites are asked to bring gifts so that they might make God a sanctuary that God may dwell among them. It seems that all they need to do is build it, and God will come J  But the instructions to King Solomon are different. In our haftarah, from I Kings, God’s word comes to Solomon,

With regard to this House you are building –if you follow My laws and observe My rules and faithfully keep My commandments, I will fulfill for you  the promise that I gave to your father David: I will abide among  the children of Israel, and I will never forsake My people Israel. (6:12-13)

Here, keeping the covenantal laws is what will bring God to dwell among us and will keep God’s presence in our midst.

May of the rabbis argue that the Torah is out of order, and that the instructions for building the Tabernacle actually came after the sin of the Golden Calf, as a way for the Israelites to make it right with God. The building of the Tabernacle would cleanse them of their idolatrous sin and will bring God’s Presence back among them. In this light, the building of the Tabernacle in the wilderness is a way of showing loyalty to the covenant.

The prophet Ezekiel, with the exiled Jews in Babylon, also invokes the rebuilding of the destroyed Temple as a way for the people to make up for all of the sins that led to the destruction and the exile in the first place.

Tomorrow, we will read the parasha, and then look at the haftarah and Ezekiel together. As we study, I want to keep this question in mind: is the building of the Tabernacle and then the Temple(s) a way to make things right with a God whom we’ve betrayed? Or are these instructions here simply to help us make a home for God among us? Must the construction of this holy space be linked with our sin – our tendency to stray?

Scrollers Preview - Mishpatim 2015

In the words of the Etz Chayim commentary, beginning with this week’s Parasha, “the tone of the Torah changes. Up to this point, it has been a narrative, with occasional references to laws. . . . Now the emphasis is reversed. From here on, the Torah will present the rules by which the Isralites are to live, with occasional narrative breaks.”

This week’s Parasha is mostly a compendium of case laws regarding how to treat one’s neighbor. There are laws regarding slavery, damages for injury to self or to property, laws about thievery and kidnaping, about how we are required to treat those at the margins of society. There are also ritual laws regarding Festivals and worship. The Parasha concludes with a fascinating scene in which Moses concludes the covenant between God and the Israelites, and it ends with Moses heading up the mountain for 40 days.

The Etz Chayim commentary also asserts that these laws reflect that “Our standards for how we treat others must be based not on social-utilitarian concerns, the desire for an orderly society, but on the recognition of the image of God in every person and the presence of God in every relationship.” How does the God-centered context of the Torah, especially given last week’s drama at Mount Sinai, and the last chapter of our Parasha, color how we understand these laws? Do they simply reflect a desire for an orderly society, or is there something more?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Yitro 2015

This week’s parasha begins with the story of Moses’ father-in-law Yitro’s visit to the Israelite Sinai encampment. Yitro sees Moses standing all day long giving rulings in the interpersonal affairs of the Israelites, and he gives Moses the sage advice to delegate! Afterwards, we have the set-up for and then the giving of the Ten Commandments.

This year I’d like to focus on the Ten Commandments or better said in Hebrew, “aseret ha-dibrot,” the ten utterances. Among these statements are some revolutionary concepts as well as laws that are common to most societies. The more common laws include the prohibitions against murder, adultery and theft. Among the revolutionary concepts, we have the prohibition of making graven images of God, and we have the idea of a 24-hour period of cessation from work every week, on Shabbat.

What makes these utterances unique as well is that they are not given in the form of case law – if you do this, you will be punished. Theft and adultery and violating Shabbat are not merely seen as illegal and disruptive to society. But to break these commandments would mean that one is violating universal principles, determined by God. The statements are absolute.

Rather than proposing some questions for us to wrestle with up front, I look forward to slowly working our way through these ten statements, hearing your questions, and drawing on the Etz Hayyim commentary as we try to address them.

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bshallach

In this week’s parasha the word “yad,” Hebrew for “hand,” “arm,” or “power,” is a key term. In chapter 14 alone, the word appears at seven times, and it occurs frequently in other sections of the parasha as well.  Moses stretches his arm (yad) with the staff in it out over the sea, and God causes the wind to blow and split the water so that the Israelites may cross over on dry land. God’s power (yad)is seen by the Israelites as it is wielded against the Egyptians. The Song of the Sea concludes with a vision of God’s hands (yadecha – “Your hands,”) building the Temple on the mountain in the Land of Canaan. And as the Israelites complain for lack of food and water, they express the wish that they could have died at the hand (yad) of God back in Egypt rather than starve to death in the wilderness.

In this climactic parasha of our people’s liberation from slavery and the miraculous crossing of the sea, we are invited to notice the hand of God in our story. God reaches in to split the sea, to defeat the Egyptians, and to shower down manna. The parasha even ends with a war with Amalek in which Moses must raise his arms (yadav, “his arms,”) in order for the Israelites to prevail.

We might conclude from this ever-present “hand” of God, that God is with the people in a new and more immediate way than before. In contrast to the 400 years of  distance and darkness and slavery, we now have God in our midst, further embodied by the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. Yet, even though this hand is reaching in to our story, the Israelites are still unsure. Yes, they celebrate on the other shore of the Sea. But the crossing is bookended by complaints and fear -  Where is the water and the food going to come from? The Egyptians are pursuing us – did you bring us to the desert to die?

Can we identify with this experience? Is the Divine presence in  our lives? Can we detect that “yad”? And even when we do for a moment, is our awareness dominated by worry, fear, a sense of distance? What do we need to do in order to see that hand – that pillar? And how do we keep it in our consciousness, even when we are hungry?

Scrollers Preview - Vayechi

When a matriarch or patriarch in a family dies, there are often a big questions looming over the surviving family members – how will this family continue? Will the siblings and the cousins continue to live in relationship with one another? Who will gather the family for holiday meals, now that Mom is no longer alive? We end the book of Genesis with a similar sense of anxiety. What will the future of this family look like?

Jacob offers his answers when he gathers the brothers together for his death bed “blessing,” announcing that he will tell them, “what is to befall you in the days to come.” While many of his blessings really sound like curses, and several of them focus on past missteps of brothers like Reuben and Simeon, Jacob does eventually turn toward the future. Judah and Joseph seem to fare the best, as Jacob blesses them with royalty and fertility.

These blessings bring some hope, but they are referring to a future that is hard to see. The blessings refer to tribes living in their own land, yet the brothers and their families are now settled in Egypt with no clear sense of when or how they will make their way back to their homeland.

Whereas in last week’s parasha, there was a sense of safety and security in the family’s being able to settle in Egypt during the famine, in this week’s parasha, Egypt starts to feel like a trap. After Jacob’s death, Joseph has to get permission to bury his father in Canaan, and an enormous entourage of Egyptian officials accompanies him. The kids and flocks stay back in Egypt. Pharaoh makes it clear where he wants Joseph and his family to be.

As Joseph is dying, a sinister shadow starts to move over the story. Joseph tells his brothers that “God will surely take notice of you and bring you up from this land.” (50:24) And he makes them swear to bring his bones up with them. Does this mean that God has stopped noticing them for now?

By the end of the book, it is clear that we are not leaving Egypt any time soon. We are left with an image of waiting, as Joseph’s body is “embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt.” (50:26)  We will find out next week that it is quiet a long wait before those bones are finally carried up out of Egypt.

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bo 2015

This week, the drama of the plagues continues, with the plagues of locusts and darkness, culminating with the plague of the killing of the first born of the Egyptians. All three of these plagues contain the element of darkness – the locusts are so thick that the land is darkened; the plague of darkness itself is so thick you can touch it; and the killing of the first born takes place in the dark, at midnight.

By the time the locusts come along, Pharaoh’s courtiers are already convinced it is time to give in to Moses’ demands. “Are you not yet aware that Egypt is lost?” they ask. And even in the midst of all of the plagues, “Moses himself was much esteemed in the land of Egypt,” and the Egyptians are disposed favorably towards the Israelites, giving them gifts of silver and gold as they depart.

But  no matter how dark and desperate it gets, Pharaoh’s heart remains impenetrable. His ego, his belief that he is right, his fear all build a thickness around his heart. For him, the darkness lies inside of him – he is unwilling to see what is really happening. He is unable to take in the reality of the fact that there is a force much more powerful than himself  at play here.

Pharaoh wakes up to the cries of death throughout his land. And at least for a moment, he is afraid enough to let the Israelites go. But we know that his heart still hasn’t softened. And it won’t, leading to the scene next week, when the Israelites, having crossed over on dry land, will see “Egypt” dead on the shores of the Sea.

As we study the parasha this week, I invite us to ask ourselves about that Pharaoh that dwells inside each of us. How does that hardness of heart manifest in our own lives? How do we get in our own way? And how do we learn from the Pharaoh in this parasha? What can we do to soften our own hearts and open to the reality of our own lives and this world, its challenges, its beauty, our own power and powerlessness?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Vaera

In his introduction to his translation of the Book of Exodus, Robert Alter describes the shift from Genesis to Exodus as the transition from a zoom lens to a wide-angle lens on a camera:

Instead of the sharply etched individuals who constituted a family in all its explosive dynamics in Genesis, we now have teeming multitudes of Israelites. . . . In keeping with this new wide-angle lens through which the characters and the events are seen, the narrative moves from the domestic, moral, and psychological realism of the Patriarchal Tales to a more stylized, sometimes deliberately schematic, mode of storytelling. . . .

According to Alter, as the camera widens its view, the main players, God and Moses, become more distant. Whereas in Genesis, God walked around and talked to the patriarchs, here God becomes unseeable, with fiery barriers to access. Whereas we knew Jacob and Joseph’s inner lives quite intimately, we only see certain facets of Moses – his qualities as a leader.

The parasha this week opens with God telling Moses that the patriarchs had not known God by the name YHVH; they knew only the name “El Shaddai.” As we often see in Torah, this is not really so. The name YHVH has appeared before, and the patriarchs did know it. But we are still left with the question here of how God relates to the humans in this book – the book of Exodus. We are left with the question of whether and why God becomes more distant in this book.

What is the difference between “El Shaddai,” a name that connotes fertility, and this name “YHVH,” which the rabbis have interpreted as representing God’s merciful qualities? God also only uses the word “Elohim,” connoting God’s quality of judgment, with Moses once in our parasha, and from this point forward only speaks to Moses as “YHVH.”

A Chasidic commentary that we will study together brings us an answer to these questions in a way that helps us to reflect on our lives. (You’ll have to come to Scrollers to see what I mean.)

We may still have time after this discussion of God’s names to read the rest of the parasha, which tells the story of the first five plagues and Pharaoh’s hardened heart.