Scrollers Preview - Parashat Tetzaveh 2013

Parashat Tetzaveh continues the theme from last week with God setting up the infrastructure and the staff for the priestly rituals of sacrifice. Last week we received the instructions for building the Tabernacle – God’s dwelling place (mishkan) among the Israelites. This week we receive instructions for the vestments of the priests and the ritual of ordaining them. We also get the instructions for the lighting of the menorah and the building of the incense altar.

Here we begin to get a sense of God’s plan for how the Israelites will make it possible to have a close relationship with God and how they will carry out Divine service through the sacrificial rituals.

Some of the questions on my mind this week are:

What does it mean to have God’s Presence abide among the people, and what can we deduce from the parashah about the nature of the connection between the people and God’s Presence? What does it mean to connect to God through these priests and these offerings of animals and grains and incense?

I plan on having us read the haftarah from the prophet Ezekiel as well. He is addressing the people in Babylon.  They have witnessed the destruction of the Temple and their sacrificial worship system, and they are now living in exile. In this prophecy, Ezekiel gives detailed instructions for the reconstruction and restoration of the Temple upon the people’s return to the Land of Israel.

The haftarah raises a number of questions. What do we think it meant to experience the destruction of the Temple and to lose the ability to connect with God via the sacrifices? What might it have felt like to hear Ezekiel describe the dimensions and materials to be used to rebuild the Temple, in exile? How might simply hearing his words or reading the passage effect a sense of closeness to God or restoration of the relationship that was once lost?

After the destruction of the 2^nd Temple, the rabbis posit that studying words of Torah does the same thing that sacrifices did when they had the Temple. Is the text enough to create that connection, or do we need the actual sacrificial system?

Shabbat Shalom everyone! I’m looking forward to studying together tomorrow morning.

And don’t forget that Purim begins tomorrow evening. We have our carnival at 4pm and shpiel at 5:30pm. There will be food and wine available for purchase at the carnival, so you can come and eat and then enjoy “Chelm and its Hat: How simple is that!” – an intergenerational production of the Megilah of Esther, with twist of Dr. Seuss and a sprinkle of Chelm. It should be really fun…and hamentaschen afterwards! 

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Yitro 2013

This week our People encounter God at Mount Sinai. They hear God’s voice directly for the first time as a people, and they enter into the covenant as a whole community, becoming God’s “am segullah,” or “treasured people.” Because the experience is so intense, the people are afraid, and they are only able to handle hearing the first ten utterances. Moses will take down the rest of God’s laws and relay them to the people.

In the JPS commentary, scholar Nahum Sarna writes about what makes the covenantal moment at Sinai unique among other Near Eastern covenantal documents. In the ancient world, there are many instances of covenants, testaments, and treaties between parties. But ours is the only example of a covenant made between God and an entire people.

Another feature that sets our text apart is that the covenant is made in the context of a larger narrative. We don’t just have a document listing the laws and rules we are to follow so that we might be God’s treasured people. We have these laws and rules and agreements within the context of a larger story – our dramatic story of liberation from slavery and revelation of God’s presence at Mount Sinai.

The Decalogue (which we often call the Ten Commandments) is revealed in a mystical immediate intense moment in time that is etched into the memory of our People from that moment forward. Our tradition asks us to imagine that we were all there – those of us yet to be born along with our ancestors of old. This story is read by later generations as an event that is out of time, transcendent, eternal.

Later rabbis, especially in the Chasidic tradition, put more importance on the moment of our people experiencing God’s presence than on the content of the ten utterances themselves.

As we study this parasha together, I want us to consider how the context of this narrative shapes how we understand its content. What is more important – the direct experience of God by the people or the list of “thou shalts” and “thou shalt nots”? Do we agree with our Chasidic masters that really all we heard was God’s name? Or even just the “aleph” in the first word if the first phrase, “Anochi Adonai Elohecha,” “I am the Eternal your God”?

Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bo 2013

Our Parasha this week completes the story of the ten plagues that strike Egypt, with the final plagues of locusts, darkness and the killing of the first born of all the Egyptians. We get the instructions to the Israelites regarding the Pesach sacrifice that they are to make on the night of vigil before their liberation. Intertwined in the narrative about the sacrifice are also instructions for the following generations to observe the festival of Pesach.

In this Torah portion, at the beginning of Chapter 12, we have the first instance of God giving ritual commandments to the Israelite people through Moses. The commandment is to mark the month of Aviv, in which the Exodus takes place, as the first month on the calendar. “this month shall mark for you the beginning of the months. . .” (Ex. 12:2) The text continues to prescribe the ritual of the Passover sacrifice and the Feast of Unleavened bread, which are celebrated in remembrance of this seminal event of liberation.

Many Medieval commentators ask why the Torah starts with the “In the beginning” – the Creation story  - and not with “This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months.” Because in their context, these rabbis are more concerned with the Jewish path of mitzvoth and halacha (law,) they wonder why it takes so long to get to the first real law in the Torah.

Here, with these regulations concerning the calendar and the first laws concerning a holiday, the Jewish way of life truly begins to take shape. We also see a weaving of past and present and future in this parasha. The text jumps back and forth from the narrative of the Israelites in Egypt putting the blood of the lamb on the door to God’s instructions to future generations to celebrate Passover “in remembrance” of these events.

God even thinks to tell us what to tell our children when they ask us about the holiday, “What do you mean by this rite?”(Ex. 12:26) And we then are to look back into our personal/mythic past and say, “It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, because He passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt when He smote the Egyptians, but saved our houses.” (12:26)

At this critical juncture in our tradition, many questions come to the surface. We have received other commandments such as circumcision and “be fruitful and multiply.” These have been communicated to individuals from God as commandments to be observed down the generations. But here, we have the first ritual I can detect that is truly communal. What does it mean to us that the Pesach holiday is the first communal observance to be commanded in the Torah? What does this say about the story of the Exodus and its status in our memory and ongoing life as a people? What does this say about who we are as a people? What does it mean that this ritual is commanded while we are still in Egypt?

So many questions, and I’m confident you’ll bring your own. Looking forward to studying with you tomorrow.

Rabbi G.

Scrollers Preview- Parashat Sh'mot 2013

In his introduction to the book of Exodus, or “Sefer Sh’mot,” Nahum Sarna calls attention to the fact that this entire book covers the events of only 2 years. As David Hays often reminds us, the book does not tell us what the 400 years of life in Egypt were like for the Israelites. Instead, there is a sharp focus on God’s intervention in our history in a particular sequence of events.

This parasha begins with the initial acts of resistance to Pharaoh’s oppression, mostly carried out by women. How ironic that Pharaoh calls for the baby boys to be thrown into the Nile, when it is women – the midwives, Pharaoh’s daughter, and Moses’ mother and sister – who begin the process the leads to redemption from Egyptian slavery.

The parasha continues to follow the early life of Moses, culminating in the selection of Moses as God’s partner in carrying out God’s redemptive plan. Having just read the book of Genesis, the stories of our matriarchs and patriarchs still echoing in our memory, it is interesting to note the parallels and contrasts between Moses’ life and the lives of the earlier ancestors, especially Jacob.

Again we have a miraculous birth, but the miracle isn’t due to a barren woman finally giving birth. Moses is one of three siblings, but it isn’t sibling rivalry that causes Moses to flee his home. In fact, Aaron and Miriam aid Moses in important ways. Moses finds his wife at a well and spends many months living with his father-in-law, but this father-in-law is not a trickster, and he easily allows Moses to return to Egypt with his wife and son. We’ll investigate these similarities and differences together and see if we can uncover an underlying message.

I look forward to starting this powerful book with you this Shabbat!

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.