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?
Friday, February 17, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Scrollers preview for 2/11/12 - Parashat Yitro
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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?
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?
Friday, February 3, 2012
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?
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?
Friday, January 27, 2012
Scrollers Preview - Parashat Bo
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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!
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!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Scrollers Preview - Parashat Va-eira
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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!
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!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Scrollers preview for 1/14/12 - Parashat Shemot
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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?
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?
Friday, January 6, 2012
Scrollers preview for 1/7/12 - Parashat Vayechi
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Parashat Vayechi
January 7, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg
“Vayechi” means “he lived.” Interesting title for a parasha mostly about death and burial! But this is also a parasha about blessing the next generation.
As we wrap up the book of Genesis, Jacob is on his deathbed, and we have two scenes of blessing, one as he blesses his grandchildren Ephraim and Manasseh, and the other as he blesses of each of his sons. Jacob recalls where the ancestors are buried, in the Cave of Machpelah, and he instructs his sons to bury him there. Earlier, he also recounts to Joseph how he buried his wife Rachel on the road to Bethlehem. At the end of the parasha, Joseph dies, and the last words of the book of Genesis are that “he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt.”
As we finish reading this book, it is as if we are attending a funeral, or multiple funerals. Every single dead ancestor is mentioned, up to and including Joseph. What is the Torah trying to tell us here? What is the impact on the reader of recounting all of these deaths and burials and burial plots at the end of Genesis? What and who is really dying here?
Next week as we begin the book of Exodus, we will no longer tell the story of individual ancestors and their families; we will begin the story of a nation. What needs to be buried in order to begin this new phase? What will be the continuous thread? How will the blessings manifest themselves in the future?
Parashat Vayechi
January 7, 2012
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg
“Vayechi” means “he lived.” Interesting title for a parasha mostly about death and burial! But this is also a parasha about blessing the next generation.
As we wrap up the book of Genesis, Jacob is on his deathbed, and we have two scenes of blessing, one as he blesses his grandchildren Ephraim and Manasseh, and the other as he blesses of each of his sons. Jacob recalls where the ancestors are buried, in the Cave of Machpelah, and he instructs his sons to bury him there. Earlier, he also recounts to Joseph how he buried his wife Rachel on the road to Bethlehem. At the end of the parasha, Joseph dies, and the last words of the book of Genesis are that “he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt.”
As we finish reading this book, it is as if we are attending a funeral, or multiple funerals. Every single dead ancestor is mentioned, up to and including Joseph. What is the Torah trying to tell us here? What is the impact on the reader of recounting all of these deaths and burials and burial plots at the end of Genesis? What and who is really dying here?
Next week as we begin the book of Exodus, we will no longer tell the story of individual ancestors and their families; we will begin the story of a nation. What needs to be buried in order to begin this new phase? What will be the continuous thread? How will the blessings manifest themselves in the future?
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