Parashat Naso – Numbers 4:21−7:89 May 21, 2021

Summary: A census of the Gershonites, Merarites, and Koathites between the ages of thirty and fifty is conducted and their duties in the Tabernacle are detailed. God speaks to Moses concerning what to do with ritually unclean people, repentant individuals, and those who are suspected of adultery. The obligations of a nazirite vow are explained. They include abstaining from alcohol and not cutting one's hair. God tells Moses how to teach Aaron and his sons the Priestly Blessing. Finally, Moses consecrates the Sanctuary, and the tribal chieftains bring offerings. Moses then speaks with God inside the Tent of Meeting.

Lesson: "It's not my fault!”  We've all said it. It's not easy to accept responsibility when we make mistakes we make.

I have a favorite children’s story that reinforces how difficult it is to say “I’m sorry.”  The story is called “The Hardest Word.”  While searching for the hardest word a giant bird discovers a child who won’t say “Goodnight” because she doesn’t like going to bed.  Later the giant bird discovers a child who can’t say “Spaghetti”. It's just too difficult. After many more unsuccessful attempts, the bird looks into its own heart and realizes that the hardest word to say is “Sorry”!

This story rings true as much for us as it does for children.  And yet, our ability to say “sorry” is at the heart of what makes for a just society.

In our parasha this week we read: When men or women individually commit any wrong toward a fellow human being, thus breaking faith with the Eternal, and they realize their guilt, they shall confess the wrong they have done.

Our commentators recognized that this injunction was very similar to one we read several chapters earlier, in the Book of Leviticus. What distinguishes the statement in our parashah from what preceded it?

According to Rashi, one differentiating feature can be found in the words "they shall confess the wrong they have done," which do not appear in Leviticus. Rashi points out that according to our parashah, we cannot repent without a proper confession of wrongdoing.  In his Talmud commentary, Rashi writes that a person cannot achieve true repentance without admitting guilt.

Thus, in cases of wrongdoing, Rashi and our parashah teach that justice can only be achieved, and amends can only be made when a guilty party publicly admits guilt.

In our world we see individuals, politicians and even corporations, accused of breaking the law.  None of them seem able to say the hardest word: “I’m sorry.”  Confession, admitting guilt, saying sorry, are sacred acts. They may be difficult, but they make it possible to live with others in society. 

At the end of The Hardest Word, the giant bird reflects on recent events and remembers when he, accidentally, fell from the sky and destroyed a vegetable garden beside a synagogue. He determines that he will return to the scene of the crime bearing a basket of fruits and vegetables from his own garden because, "It was time to say the hardest word."

It's time for all of us, along with politicians and corporations, to learn how to say the hardest word too.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat B'har - B'chukotai- Leviticus 25:1-27:34 May 7, 2021

Summary: In our portion the Eternal One speaks to Moses on Mount Sinai: "Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe a sabbath of the Eternal."  We also learn that if we behave properly, we will be rewarded.  “If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit.”

Lesson: There’s a great book by Dr. Yosef Guri entitled, Let’s Hear Only Good News: Yiddish Blessings and Curses. Maybe it’s not surprising, but in the book we find there are 200 Yiddish blessings. There are, however, 450 curses. Amazing!

Let me share only a few:

-         May you grow like an onion, with your head in the ground.

-         May your bones be broken as often as the Ten Commandments.

-         May the souls of all of king Solomon's mothers in law inhabit you.

-         May God mistake you for your worst enemy and give you all the curses you wished on him.

Ouch! So many more curses than blessings. What does this tell us about ourselves as a Jewish People?

We have reached the end of the Book of Leviticus.  Most rabbis breathe a sigh of relief as this book Leviticus closes, since it’s primarily focused on burnt offerings and bodily discharges and other icky stuff…and to top it all off, this week’s Torah portion explores the multitude of terrible things that may happen to us if we don’t listen to God.

Our Torah portion this Shabbat, Behukotai, spells out in no uncertain terms what God wants from us. Like the book of Yiddish curses, there are many more curses than blessings in our Torah portion.

Here are the curses:  I will wreak misery on you – consumption and fever, which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish.  I will set my face against you: you shall be routed by your enemies and your foes shall dominate you.  I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper so that your strength shall be spent to no purpose.  Your land shall not yield its produce, nor shall the trees yield their fruit. 

The list goes on. It’s pretty disturbing what will happen to us if we don’t walk in God’s ways and follow God’s commandments.

This Shabbat’s Torah portion is about Divine Retribution. And it is so contrary to what we believe as modern Jews. Namely, the Torah text is essentially suggesting that punishment is the result of some sin that a person or a people does. Or put in terms we can understand, bad things happen to bad people. Good things happen to good people. When bad things happen to an individual, there must be some character flaw that the individual is being punished for. But we know many awful people who are lucky and many wonderful people who are not lucky.

There is another way to understand this Torah portion.  In trying to understand Leviticus’ verses from our portion this week:

If you do not hearken to me

And do not do all these mitzvot,

If you spurn My laws

And repel My statutes

Not doing all My mitzvot

You thus violate My covenant (26:14-15)

I believe the key word here is covenant.  Violating the covenant is the issue. When the 10 commandments are broken, that is the deal breaker for God. And so, what happens if the 10 commandments were routinely violated? 

Rabbi Uzi Weingarten writes: “When the Torah says that people will behave in a way that “violates My covenant,” it is describing a collapse of ethical and spiritual behavior that is so severe that “the covenant,” that is, the Ten Commandments, are not being observed. Let us now imagine what that might look like. Murder, adultery, theft and perjury are rampant. People scheme and connive in order to take what belongs to others, either by force, by deceit or by false testimony. The weekly day of rest, with its blessings of relaxation and connection to family and friends, has been abandoned in favor of yet more shopping and more work. Parents (and other teachers of values) are not respected. The name of God is used to support falsehood. It is a society in which ethical and spiritual values have been entirely crowded out. “

Weingarten continues: “If I were asked what I thought would happen to such a society over time, I would predict that it was headed to ruin. The breakdown of justice would result in a loss of trust and safety. The pursuit of wealth as the highest value would lead, among other things, to the failure of human relationships and the destruction of the environment. Loss of the day of rest and spiritual renewal would greatly increase the level of stress. Taken together, these factors would make people more susceptible to emotional and physical illness.

This is precisely how the Torah begins its description of the consequences of "violation of God’s covenant." It speaks about "shock, along with consumption and fever, wearing out the eyes and exhausting the spirit" (Leviticus 26:16). How very true!

The next thing that I imagine would happen is that such a society, weakened from within, would be easy prey to external threats. This, in fact, is how many great powers of the past have collapsed. And so the Torah continues: "You will sow your seeds for naught, your enemies will eat it".

So, it is how we choose to live that is paramount. We make the choice to walk in God’s ways. The curses in our portion are best understood as consequences of our actions. They aren’t punishments that God brings upon us, but rather they are reminders that how we live really makes a difference. These horrible things will happen if we live in a lawless, unjust society.

In the end, God’s covenant with us stands firm. At the end of the passage, we read:

Even when they are in the land of their enemies, I have not spurned them or despised them, to [the point of] destroying them, thus violating My covenant with them, for I am the Enteral their God.

It’s an unconditional promise, if not a blessing. Even as many throughout history have tried to destroy us, no one has ever succeeded. We are an eternal people protected by God, loved by God, no matter what. And given that even when we do remove ourselves from God’s path, individually or communally, it is never too late to do Teshuvah, return to God’s path. It is never too late to return.

And so, despite the plethora of curses we face, we can feel reassured, because this is truly a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Emor: Leviticus 21:1−24:23, April 30, 2021

Summary: Our parasha this week repeats laws we have previously read regulating the lives and sacrifices of the priests.  Then we turn to the set times of the Jewish calendar: Shabbat, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the Pilgrimage Festivals of Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot. God then once again commands the Israelites to bring clear olive oil for lighting the sanctuary menorah. The ingredients and placement of the displayed loaves of sanctuary bread are also explained. Finally, we read about laws dealing with profanity, murder, and the maiming of others.

Lesson: The rabbis of our tradition often felt the need to reinterpret laws that are found in the Torah.  From this we learn that Jewish law changes and grows over the centuries. 

In our Torah portion this week we find a formula for responding to the case of physical harm inflicted by one person upon another.  Three times in the Torah, and again in our portion this week, we learn that “If a person kills any human being, he should be put to death…life for life…fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.  The injury he inflicted on another shall be inflicted on him.”

Interpreters over the generations have sought to explain what the Torah meant by these laws.  Some see the punishment as the “law of the desert” practiced even after our people settled in the Promised Land. For some traditional commentators “life for life” can be seen as an absolute form of blood revenge. 

However, most commentators disagree with this understanding of the law.  A simple reading of the text understands that the “law of retaliation” is based upon the principle that “the punishment must fit the crime”.  Our commentators introduce a new principle as they read these verses:  the principle of “a law of equivalence.”  This theory allows the injured party to be paid for damages instead of inflicting revenge. If one loses an eye, one is paid the worth of the eye; if one is injured and loses a tooth, one is then paid the equivalent value of the tooth. 

How did this adaptation of the original law come to be?  Our commentators ask the question, “What if a person only loses part of his sight, or partial use of a limb? How would it be possible to enforce the law, to punish with exactly the same injury?”  Thus, the commentators understand the original text from our portion this week to refer to money compensation rather than inflicting physical harm.  This interpretation of the original Torah text becomes the common understanding by the time of the Talmud.  Ibn Ezra and Maimonides both agree with this interpretation of the text. 

Nehama Leibowitz, a modern commentator, goes even further when she suggests that we do not treat the body as we would parts of a machine, something to be used and discarded.  She reminds us that the body is a sacred gift from God, and that we cannot dispose of limbs, since our entire body is under God’s authority.  Thus, no person has the right to inflict harm on another person’s body.  When justice demands compensation for damages to another’s body, financial compensation is the only proper path.  She writes that “honoring the body is honoring God.” 

Maimonides adds one other important piece to the puzzle when he warns that “no compensation is complete, no wrong is forgiven until the person who has inflicted the injury requests the victim’s forgiveness and has been forgiven.” He goes even further and says, “It is forbidden for the injured party to be cruel and unforgiving.  As soon as the guilty party has sought forgiveness…then he must be forgiven.” 

Our commentators over the generations were brave.  They were willing to take the original text of the Torah and understand it in new and often revolutionary ways. This ability to interpret and change the understanding of ancient texts is one of the paths that has allowed Judaism to remain a thriving belief system and an ongoing way of life.Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Acherei Mot – Kedoshim: Leviticus 16:1-20:27, Aprile 23, 2021

Summary: This week we again have a double Torah portion, one that is wide ranging and includes within it some of the great verses of Torah. We learn about the duties that the high priest must perform on Yom Kippur and the ceremony of the scapegoat is outlined. Moses then instructs Aaron about the Yom Kippur laws for fasting and atonement. Moses continues and condemns the sexual practices of some neighboring peoples and certain forms of sexual relations are prohibited. God issues a variety of ethical commandments, instructing the Israelites on how to be a holy people. And finally, various sex offenses are discussed and punishments for them are presented.

Lesson: One of the most famous aphorisms of the Torah, and a text that is quoted very often in modern days, is “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  It stands as the central ethical commandment which guides us in our daily lives.  However, can “love” (an emotion) actually be commanded?  Is it truly possible to love others, outside our own families, with the same depth which we have for ourselves?

Our commentators focus their attention on this verse and struggle with the same questions. Maimonides realizes the difficulty of the challenge of loving others as we love ourselves.   His interpretation of the verse teaches that “you should love your neighbor with all the qualities and modes of love with which you love yourself.”  “The quality and nature of our love must be of the highest category – parallel to that which we employ in promoting our own welfare.”  He understands that it may not always be possible for human beings to provide an equal quantity of concern for the welfare of others.  His solution is to clarify that the extent of our love may be limited while the spirit of our love may not. 

Nachmanides is quite honest when he speaks of the difficulty of loving others as we love ourselves.  “Human beings cannot be expected to love their neighbors as they love their own souls.”  He broadens the definition arguing that we should wish our neighbors well in all things just as we wish success for ourselves. 

Malbim, a 19th century commentator from Eastern Europe, disagreed with both Maimonides and Nachmanides.  He argues that one cannot command another to “love”.  He sees this commandment not as directing us in terms of how we should feel about others, but rather in terms of how we behave toward others.  For him this mitzvah is all about actions, not about thoughts.  Human beings need to do more than wish good things for others. We must endeavor to act in every way possible to help our neighbor. 

When writing about this mitzvah, Ibn Ezra explains that we are responsible to love other human beings because God has created us all.

Modern psychologist, Eric Fromm, when teaching about self-love, wrote, “The love for my own self is inseparably connected with the love for any other being.”  If we love and care for ourselves then we must love and care for others.  For Fromm “love is an activity…it is primarily giving, not receiving.” 

The struggle of our commentators to understand this verse is our struggle as well. What is clear from our tradition is that we must love ourselves and then transform that love into a generous love for others.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parsahat Tazria – Metzora: Leviticus 12:1-15:33 - April 9, 2021 16

Summary : Our parasha this week is a double parasha and is quite unusual and to be honest, is not at all pleasant. Our text focuses on bodily impurities. In our portion God describes the rituals of purification for a woman after childbirth. God then sets forth the methods for diagnosing and treating a variety of skin diseases, including tzara’at (a leprous affection), as well as those for purifying clothing. We then learn about Priestly rituals to cure tzara’at when it afflicts humans are described, continuing with rituals to rid dwelling places of the same disease.  The parasha then describes male impurities resulting from a penile discharge or seminal emission. The parasha concludes with accounts of female impurities caused by a discharge of blood.

Lesson: While our portion is about all sorts of strange diseases, primarily skin diseases like leprosy, or mold in homes, our commentators, maybe to avoid the real topic of the parasha, find an interesting lesson in the midst of the descriptions of disease and healing rituals.  Our commentators view leprosy as an external sign of internal decay.  Illness becomes a symbol for corruption, immorality and callousness. 

What’s the name of our parasha?  Tazria-Metzora.  And our commentators play with the name – they take Metzora and come up with Motzi-Shem-Ra – changing the focus of our parasha from Metzora - skin disease and leprosy to Motzi-Shem-Ra – slanderous speech.  In the Talmud we read: “Said Resh Lakish: What is the implication of the phrase “This shall be the law of the leper” (Metzora)?  “[We should understand it to read] this shall be the law of he who spreads evil talk” (motzi-shem-ra). 

From skin disease to slanderous speech.  How brilliant are our commentators?!!  How important is their lesson for us today?!

Our rabbinic commentators, in the Midrash, emphasize the power of slander and evil words when they teach: “Their tongue is a sharpened arrow…Why is the tongue compared to an arrow? If a man draws a sword to kill his fellow, the latter begs for mercy and the would-be slayer changes his mind and sheaths his sword. Whereas an arrow cannot be called back once it has been shot, even if the marksman wishes to do so.”

They continue: “Likewise this wicked man slays other men with his tongue in the same way as an arrow. Just as the victim does not know about it until it actually reaches him, so the effects of evil talk are not felt by the victim until the arrows of a wicked man pierce him.

Motzi-Shem-Ra – slanderous speech – a clear problem evident throughout our society, from our top politicians to our neighbors and friends.   Society is suffering from Metzora – not the skin disease, but rather the disease of corruption, immorality, callousness and slander.

Let me share with you a favorite story.  A wandering merchant comes into the town square selling an elixir that will provide eternal life!  He entices a large crowd who are eager to purchase his wares.  When enough people laid out their money, the merchant finally revealed where the secret of the elixir is hidden…in the book of Psalms: “Who desires life?  Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from guile.”

In a Torah portion filled with uncomfortable descriptions of disease, our commentators creatively discover an important lesson.  How does the Torah teach us to fight the spiritual disease rampant in our society and in our lives?  How does the Torah teach us to fight the disease of corruption, immorality, callousness and slander?  “Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from guile.”

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Shemini - Leviticus 9:1-11:47 - April 9, 2021

Summary : In our portion this week, Aaron and his sons follow Moses' instructions and offer sacrifices so that God will forgive the people. Two of Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, offer "alien fire" to God. God punishes these two priests by killing them immediately. God forbids Moses, Aaron, and his surviving sons from mourning but commands the rest of the people to do so. Then the Priests are told not to drink alcohol before entering the sacred Tabernacle and are further instructed about making sacrifices. Finally, many laws of Kashrut are given which distinguish between pure and impure animals, birds, fish, and insects.

Lesson : Aaron’s two sons were put to death as a result of bringing “alien fire” as an offering into the sanctuary.  The text of our Torah portion is very unclear.  Commentators over the generations have attempted to better understand and explain what Nadab and Abihu did wrong.

Some commentators write that the two brothers were not punished for the act of bringing the wrong kind of fire into the sanctuary. Instead, they were condemned for the evil intent that motivated them.  According to our rabbis the two brothers had outsized ambition and planned to usurp Moses and Aaron’s power.  They appeared in the sanctuary with their own offerings hoping that the people would be impressed thus leading to a demand from the people for new leadership.  Rather than coming to the sanctuary with pure and holy intent, they came with envy and impatience and in the end were punished for their arrogance, their lust for position and power. The sin for which they were punished was the fire of ambition that burned within them. 

Rashbam, a French commentator from the 12th century, writes about another possible reason for the punishment and finds the brothers’ error in plain sight within the text of the Torah.  “Each took his firepan, put fire in it…and offered before God alien fire, which God had not commanded them.”  The sin of the brothers is that they brought fire that went beyond what was commanded them.  Instead of following the law, they took the law into their own hands.  They were clearly deeply moved by the ritual that Moses and Aaron performed.  Quite possibly in their enthusiasm and joy, they entered the Holy of Holies to burn incense, something they had not been commanded to do. 

The Torah isn’t clear what “alien fire” truly means, and thus we don’t know exactly why the two brothers must die.  Was it their ruthless ambition and arrogance that led to their being punished, or was it youthful zeal and enthusiasm?  In either case what we do know is the pain that Aaron must have felt to watch his two sons die.  We sense the depth of his despair in the text itself when we read:  And Aaron was silent.  

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parasha – Shabbat Pesach: Exodus 14:30–15:21

Summary:

As our celebration of Passover draws to an end, we deviate from the pattern of weekly portions and instead read a special Torah portion for the Festival.  Our portion includes the dramatic telling of the splitting of the sea in a beautiful poem known as “The Song at the Sea.” Written with great emotion, this poem attempts to convey the power of “God’s mighty hand.” So powerful is the imagery that verses of this poem have become part of our weekly Tefilah – Mi Chamocha. The poem comes to a climatic finish with Miriam, the prophetess, picking up her timbrel and leading the women in dance.

Lesson:

Imagine that you have just been liberated from slavery. After centuries of oppression, you and your people escape, fleeing into the unknown in hopes of a better life. Your oppressors follow you, hoping to return you to slavery, or perhaps even kill you. At the moment when you lose all hope, an escape route opens up before you; you cross to safety and your oppressors drown.  

Every Pesach we retell this Biblical story and imagine that the story is our story. Over the generations our commentators have found in this ancient story new, important and beautiful lessons.

The first lesson our commentators discover in our portion this week tells us about a mythical character named Nachshon ben Aminadav.  Nachshon was liberated from Egypt together with the rest of the Israelites.  He marched with them toward freedom until they reached the shores of the Red Sea.  They were fearful when they looked in front of them and saw waters in which they’d surely drown.  And they were fearful when they looked behind them and saw the Pharaoh's armies bearing down upon them.  The people, with Moses at the lead, were paralyzed, until one man, Nachshon ben Aminadav, took matters into his own hands.  He knew he had no choice except to move forward.  So he walked into the waters.  The water came up to his knees. He kept walking.  The water came up to his chest. He kept walking.  Soon the water came up to his nostrils.  He kept walking.  It was precisely at the moment when he could no longer breathe that the waters parted, and Moses and the people crossed into safety.  

Our commentators add this mythological story into our tradition to teach us that we can’t wait for God to act.  No, liberation comes only to the courageous. Nachshon’s gift was the ability not only to see the possibility of the moment, but to believe in it strongly enough to be willing to risk wading into the water.  We are challenged to be like Nachshon, to be brave enough to step forward.  The first steps are the hardest ones, and the most necessary. Only when Nachshon takes these steps does the story of our redemption as a people really begin.

After the Israelites cross the Red Sea, they sing the same words that we sing every time we pray - Mi Chamocha - words from our Torah portion this week.  They sing words of celebration having seen God’s power when the sea splits and the Egyptians are drowned. The second lesson that our commentators teach us from our portion this week reminds us that unbridled joy is difficult to celebrate in our world, a world so filled with sadness.  

The Talmud teaches us that on seeing the drowning Egyptians, the angels were about to break into song when God silenced them declaring, “How dare you sing for joy when My creatures are dying”. The Talmud teaches that our personal elation should never make us forget the misfortunes afflicting others.  This lesson is deeply ingrained in our tradition.  In the book of Proverbs, we read: “When the wicked perish there is singing” but later we are reminded: “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice.” 

Both midrashim, both rabbinic tales, teach us deep lessons that are hidden within our text.  Nachshon teaches us that we can’t wait for God to act.  Each of us can be like Nachshon and create miracles in our world. We also learn that despite the many gifts we’ve been granted in our lives, we must always remember those who are suffering.  

Two gems hidden in the special Torah portion for the seventh day of Pesach.  Two hidden gems that add depth, beauty and power to our lives.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbia Donald Goor

Pesach Blog 5781 / April 2021

Pesach:  Matzot…Freedom…A sacrifice in the ancient Temple.  All of these are part of the ancient Festival that we celebrate this week. 

Judaism we know has developed over thousands of years.  During those thousands of years Judaism has grown and evolved.  To remain vibrant, our teachers and commentators have been willing to include a variety of narratives into the one narrative we now know as the Judaism we practice. 

An example of how Judaism includes different historical streams into one unified whole can be found in the variety of names for the Chag, the festival, we know as Pesach.  However, in our tradition it has four names:

1.      The first name, and the one with which we are most familiar, is Chag HaPesach – the Festival of Pesach.  This name is associated with the Biblical account of the 10th Plague when God “passed over” the homes of the Israelites.  It also refers to the sacrificial offering brought to the ancient Temple in Jerusalem.  One word, Pesach, actually refers to two different events - God passing over the home of the Israelites as well as the sacrifice in the ancient Temple – both of which took place hundreds, if not thousands, of years apart.

2.     The second name, which won’t be too surprising, is Chag HaMatzot – The Festival of Unleavened Bread.  This name derives from the story found in the Torah that the Jews left Egypt with such haste that they had no time to allow their bread to rise.  This name reflects the centrality of Matzah in the Passover Holy Day.

3.     The third name is Chag HaAviv – the Spring Festival.  This name reflects the seasonal significance of Pesach, evident in the greens and the egg that we find on the Seder plate, representing spring as the time of rebirth.

4.     Finally, we have the name Z’man Cheiruteinu – The Season of our Freedom.  This name refers to the liberation from bondage that is at the heart of our Passover story. 

Each of these names appear in our modern-day Seder.  Over the generations our tradition included aspects of each of these names into the Holy Day we currently celebrate.  And each of these names teaches us something about how we should mark Passover in our lives. 

The first name, Chag HaPesach – the Festival of Pesach, during which God passed over the homes of the Jewish slaves, eventually leading them to liberation, reminds us that this story is about taking the first step, being willing to leave the chains of bondage and head toward the unknown.  It’s not an easy step.  It requires bravery…bravery to leave behind the known, the comfortable, and journey into a future that is yet to be discovered.  The Jews who left Egypt headed into the Sinai desert for a journey that would take 40 years.  They not only witnessed God’s miracles, but they also suffered great hardship.  We celebrate their bravery and look to them as role-models for us, reminding us that we should emulate their bravery as we take our first steps and journey into the future. 

The second name, Chag HaMatzot – The Festival of Unleavened Bread, recalls the commandment to avoid all Chametz during the Holy Day.  The very basic act of eating Matzah is actually a very spiritual commandment.  We are meant to avoid all food that rises, reminding us that an enlarged, puffed up ego can enslave the soul more than any external prison.  The flat nature of the Matzah we eat for the entire week is a reminder that humility is our ultimate goal. 

The third name, Chag HaAviv – the Spring Festival, teaches that we Jews are eternal optimists.  Springtime, with the flowers and trees blooming around us, with the green of the fields and the warmth of the sun, is a reminder that after a dark and foreboding winter, we experience a rebirth.  With this rebirth comes the hope for a better future, a new and pure world.

Finally, we have the name Z’man Cheiruteinu – The Season of our Freedom.  With this name we are reminded that Passover holds the promise of an ultimate liberation for all people.  In Hebrew, Egypt is called Mitzrayim – the narrow place.  During our Seder meal we hold the hope that we ourselves, and all people, can escape our own narrow places.  We hope for a world in which the dream of freedom is realized.  A world in which all people will know liberation from all forms of bondage. 

The variety of names are evidence that Pesach has evolved over the time.  One Chag – one Festival…four names.  The names teach us that we must be willing to take the first step.  The names teach us that we must subjugate our egos. The names teach us that there is hope for a better future.  And the names teach us that liberation is not yet complete – not for us as individuals and not for the world at large.  The story of our Israelite ancestor’s journey from liberation to freedom that we, as free people, tell as we sit around the Seder table, is a reminder to us that while freedom is not yet a reality, it remains our ultimate goal. 

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Vayikra Leviticus 1:1−5:36 - March 19, 2021

Summary:

This week we begin a new book of Torah, a book which will focus primarily on the sacrificial cult in the Temple.  In our portion, God instructs Moses on the five different kinds of sacrifices that were to be offered in the sanctuary:

1.      The olah or "burnt offering" was a voluntary sacrifice that had a high degree of sanctity and was regarded as the "standard" offering. The entire animal, except for its hide, was burned on the altar.

2.     The minchah or "meal offering" was a sacrifice made of flour, oil, salt, and frankincense that was partly burned on the altar and partly given to the priests to eat.

3.      The zevach sh'lamim or "sacrifice of well-being" was a voluntary animal offering from one's herd, sometimes brought to fulfill a vow.

4.      The chatat or "sin offering" was an obligatory sacrifice that was offered to expiate unintentional sins. This offering differs from the others in the special treatment of the blood of the animal.

5.      The asham or "penalty offering" was an obligatory sacrifice of a ram that was required chiefly of one who had misappropriated property.

Lessons:

When teachers get together, they love to tell stories about the favorite excuse students have given them.  “The dog ate my homework.”  “My alarm never went off.”  “Traffic was terrible.”  “My computer crashed.” “No one told me.”

We use these excuses for a variety of reasons.  OK - sometimes these excuses are true, but they rarely tell the whole story.  It's somehow easier for us to talk about our failures when we place the control outside ourselves, as if in some way, it’s not really our fault.  You can’t really blame me, when it really was my dog, my alarm, the traffic, my computer, or best of all – everyone else.  It’s always easier to blame something or someone else.  We don’t like to be in the wrong.  It’s uncomfortable.

This week we begin reading, Leviticus - most people’s least favorite book of the Torah!  Why?  Take a look in this week’s parsha, we see a litany of sacrifices: the עולה olah - burnt offering, the מנחה mincha - meal offering, the שלמים sh’lamim – well-being offering, the חטאת chatat – purification offering, and the אשם asham – reparation offering.  Lots of sacrifices – lots of blood and gore – all for things we’ve done wrong!

We’re not the only Jews in our history who have been uncomfortable with all these sacrifices!  The prophet Isaiah writes:

 “Why are you giving all of your sacrifices to me?” says Adonai; “I am fed up - have had my fill of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fatlings; and I have no desire for the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of male goats.”

Isaiah tells us that what God really wants from us is that we should:

“Cease to do evil; Learn to do good; pursue judgment, strengthen the oppressed, uphold the rights of the orphan, plead for the cause of the widow.”

Thousands of years later there are lessons for us to learn from Vayikra – from the sacrifices of Leviticus. First – we can thank God that our forebears took Isaiah’s words to heart.  Rather than focusing on blood and gore and pursuing a Judaism of animal sacrifice, they heard Isaiah’s words and focused instead on humanity and pursuing a Judaism of justice.

However, from the sacrifices themselves there is an important lesson to be learned.  Leviticus, with its animal sacrifices, gives the Israelites in their own time a toolkit with which they can repair the universe, the sanctuary, and themselves.  By providing a way to fix when people have erred.  Leviticus tells us that we have control over our lives and our world, that we can fix what we’ve done wrong. 

There are no demons to blame for things that go wrong. Leviticus doesn’t focus on excuses. It doesn’t allow ancient Jews to say “the cow ate my sacrifice; my donkey was in the repair shop!”  Leviticus doesn’t focus on the reason for the sin.  Instead, the emphasis is on the response, the way in which we overcome our errors. 

What a challenge to our modern modes of thinking: always seeking out someone or something to blame.  Leviticus teaches us:  when we mess up, we don’t prepare excuses.  We own up to our wrongs and work to repair them.  It takes character and moral fortitude to own our actions: to be honest about our actions with other people and, moreover, to be honest with ourselves. Being Jewish means not making excuses.  This is how Leviticus challenges each of us.  

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

The Miskhan & Shabbat March 12, 2021

The Miskhan + Shabbat…a Palace on the Ground and a Palace in Time

Finally, after weeks of instruction in Torah portion after Torah portion, the Mishkan, the tabernacle, the tent of meeting, is finally completed.  And what’s the first instruction given once the Mishkan is completed?  The reminder to keep Shabbat!  

Why does a parsha about Mishkan begin with discussion of Shabbat?  We’ve already heard about Shabbat in other places in the Torah – and even as recently as last week’s Torah portion.  Rashi, the great commentator from the 11th century asks, and answers, the same question.  He writes that Shabbat appears so that the people are warned that keeping Shabbat isn’t overridden by building the Mishkan. 

What is Rashi’s concern?  The focus on the building of the Mishkan, might be so overwhelming that the people forget to observe Shabbat.  They brought gifts from their hearts – so many gifts that Moses had to tell them to stop!  With such a preoccupation on building the Mishkan the people might begin to believe that building a physical place in which God could dwell was more important than keeping Shabbat.  Rashi isn’t belittling the process of building the Mishkan, he knew that it wasn’t trivial, unimportant work. 

What Rashi is noting is that there is an absolute tension between the Mishkan and Shabbat.  The Mishkan is all about physical space while Shabbat is all about spiritual time.  

In practical terms there is a direct connection between the building of the Mishkan and observing Shabbat.  All the good things that you do on the 6 days of the week, like building the Mishkan, you shouldn’t do on Shabbat.  The Mishnah counts these crafts as 39 categories of work.  Everything that is commanded and desired and creative as part of the work of the Mishkan is forbidden to do on Shabbat.  The work of building the Mishkan is deeply connected to the work of Shabbat. How?  They are absolute opposites.  Just as we work creatively to build the Mishkan, so too we should not create things on Shabbat.    

Rashi’s comment teaches us that just as there are holy spaces, such as the Mishkan, so too there is holy time, such as Shabbat.  

The great 20th century philosopher, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, recognized the connection between the Mishkan and Shabbat.  He refers to Shabbat as a Palace in Time. In his writing he explores two basic, and intersecting, dimensions of human existence: space and time. Heschel argues that modern Western life is dominated by an obsession with space — with building, mastering, and conquering things of space. But life is empty, says Heschel, “when the control of space, the acquisition of things in space, becomes our sole concern” He calls on us to reconsider our priorities and relax our attachment to “thinghood,” shifting our attention from the “Palace in Space to the Palace in Time.”

Heschel stresses the importance of the Sabbath to modern life.  Shabbat offers us the opportunity to retreat temporarily from our work-a-day routine, from the world of space consciousness, and to enjoy the manifold gifts of creation provided for us by God. Heschel describes the Sabbath as a “palace in time,” whose architecture is built through a combination of intentional abstentions.  Just as the Israelites in the desert refrained from working on the Mishkan on Shabbat, so too should we refrain from business dealings, long-distance travel and instead focus on acts of prayer, study, joyous meals and interaction with loved ones.

The Mishkan that is finally completed in our parasha this week, is the ultimate holy space.  Shabbat enters our portion as well as a reminder that our focus must not only be on holy space. It must be on holy time as well.  Even though they seem like opposites, the mention of Shabbat together with the Mishkanis natural.  Shabbat is holy time while theMishkan is holy space.  Both offer us the opportunity to create holiness in our lives.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Tetzaveh: Exodus 27:20-30:10 - March 26, 2021

Summary:

In our portion, the children of Israel are commanded to bring pure olive oil for the ner tamid "a constantly burning light," in the sanctuary. Aaron and his sons, Nadab, Abihu, Eleazar, and Itamar, are then chosen to serve as priests. Afterwards, God instructs Moses to make special clothes for the priests. Finally, Aaron and his sons are ordained in a seven-day ceremony and Aaron is commanded to burn incense on an acacia altar every morning and evening.

 Lesson:

A Holy Ark with a ner tamid above it

A Modern ner tamid

As a child I used to sit in synagogue and stare at the eternal light.  Did it really never go out? What would happen if the electricity went out?  What would happen if the light bulb burned out?  It turns out that my childhood focus on the eternal light is based on a text in our Torah portion this week.  Moses continues to instruct the people regarding the building of the tabernacle. In the midst of the construction details, Moses commands the Jewish people to bring pure olive oil for the light, “to keep a flame burning there perpetually.”  What was the importance of this ner tamid - “eternal light” that continues to burn in every synagogue around the world? 

We are taught that the fact that the eternal light burns above the Aron haKodesh – the ark holding the Torah scrolls – reminds us that the Torah provides the light of wisdom to all who study it.  It lights our way as we journey through life.  Offering a very different interpretation, some of our rabbis understand the commandment that a light burns continually as something that serves God rather than human beings.  They argue that God needs Israel as a source of light in the world.  It's as if God says to the people of Israel, “hold this light so that I may see the path.” 

Other interpreters explain the ner tamid in a completely different manner.  For many of our rabbis, the eternal light is a reminder to the Jewish people to live a Jewish life and fulfill mitzvot.  They base their argument on the statement in the book of Proverbs: “the mitzvah is a lamp; the teaching is a light.”  It's as if every mitzvah that we fulfill brightens the world. 

The Jewish people are often referred to as “the chosen people”.  We are chosen not because of any racial or genetic difference.  Instead, we are chosen to be “a light unto the nations.”  It could be that the eternal light is a reminder of the mission of every Jew to provide moral and religious leadership to the larger world. 

From ancient times, thousands of years ago, when the Israelites created the first ner tamid, to the artistic interpretations of the eternal light in modern synagogues, interpreters have found and elaborated upon a variety of symbolic messages. When I stared at the ner tamid in my home synagogue, my childhood concern focused on electricity and light bulbs rather on the symbolic message of the eternal light. What is central in all the rabbinic commentary is that the Torah continues to illuminate our lives as Jews as well as bringing light to a very dark world.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

This weeks Parashat Yitro: Exodus 18:1–20:23 - February 5, 2021

Summary:

In our parasha this week, Moses’ father-in-law, Yitro, brings his daughter Zipporah and her two sons, Gershom and Eliezer, to visit Moses in the Sinai desert.  After complaining about the burden of judging all the cases the people bring him, Moses follows Yitro's advice and appoints judges to help him lead the people. Then the Children of Israel camp in front of Mount Sinai. Upon hearing the words of the covenant, the Israelites respond, "All that God has spoken we will do." After three days of preparation, the Israelites encounter God at Mount Sinai. God gives the Ten Commandments aloud directly to the people. Frightened, the Children of Israel ask Moses to serve as an intermediary between God and them. Moses tells the people not to be afraid. 

Lesson:

When I was 15 years old, the Sinai desert still belonged to the State of Israel.  It hadn’t yet been returned as part of the peace treaty with Egypt.  I remember waking up hours before sunrise to hike up Mt Sinai.  We made it to the top and witnessed a glorious sunrise that illumined the desert in all shades of color.  It was noon by the time we made it back to our campground whereupon we collapsed, moaning about our sore feet, the sand in our shoes, and the heat of dessert.  I lay there in my sleeping bag and wondered, “Why did God give the Torah at Mt Sinai?”  Couldn’t God have chosen a more accessible site, a less sandy site?  Possibly a site that didn’t require hours of hiking under the hot desert sun?

Even though the rabbis of our tradition most probably never endured the hike up Mt Sinai, they too asked the same question.  “Why did God choose to give the Torah in the middle of the desert?”

In two different commentaries from the time of the Talmud the question is asked and answered quite clearly. Torah is given in the desert in order to make it clear that the lessons belong to all of humanity, not just to the Jewish people.  

“And they camped in the desert”:  The Torah was given in freedom, in the public domain, in the place belonging to no human, because if it had been given in the Land of Israel, the Jews would have said to the nations of the world: “You have no portion in it.” Therefore, the Torah was given in the desert, and any person who wants to receive it may come and receive it.

The Torah was likened to three things: desert, fire and water – to teach you that just like these things are free, the words of Torah are free to all who come into this world. 

In another commentary the question is again asked and answered.  And here we learn a new lesson.  Torah is given in the wilderness for spiritual reasons.  Only in the quiet and stillness of the desert, without the noise and interruptions of urban life, can human beings truly absorb the lessons of Torah.   

“I will take them roundabout in the desert forty years, so that they will eat manna and drink the water of the well (that accompanied them), and the Torah will become absorbed in their bodies…

A modern commentator taught the same lesson in his own words and then adds a beautiful new concept.  Not only does the desert allow for us to better absorb the lessons of the Torah, but the fact that the desert belongs to no nation, that in essence the desert is neutral land, allows for the Torah to become our spiritual homeland.  

Precisely among the drifting sands of the Sinai Desert was the Torah given. Precisely in the midst of the transience of life, it has a chance of being absorbed. Only thus can it become the homeland of the Jewish people.

A rabbi writing during the Shoah took this concept and expanded upon it in a significant and meaningful way.  Learning and living Torah is not limited to one land.  It is portable, it is a spiritual homeland for us wherever in the world we might be.   

…Israel’s acceptance of the Torah took place in the desert. This fact may suggest, among other things...” Don’t say that in this place it’s possible to serve God, but in that place it’s impossible for me. Rather, one must serve God in all places.”

                Had Israel accepted the Torah in their land, the Land of Israel, they would have thought that it is only possible to fulfill it in their own place, in their own home, but not when they are in exile…Therefore, God gave them the Torah in the desert, on the road, in transit, so that they would know that they must fulfill it everywhere. 

Did you know that you too have visited Mt Sinai?  You may not have suffered through the heat and the tortuous hike, however according to our tradition, all Jews, those born at the time of the revelation, as well as those yet to be born, stood at Mt Sinai and took part in the holy moment of the giving of the Torah. 

This week’s Torah portion reminds us that wherever we are, we continue to stand at Mt Sinai.  Inside of each of us is the living Torah that we, thousands of years after the moment of revelation, still love and care for.  Why was Torah given in the desert?  So that each of us could feel deeply that it belongs to us, whomever we are, wherever we live.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Don Goor

Parashat 1 gennaio 2021 Vayechi: Genesis 47:28–50:26

Vayechi:  Genesis 47:28–50:26

Summary:

In our Torah portion this week Jacob blesses his grandchildren Ephraim and Manasseh. A bit later in the portion, Jacob's twelve sons gather around his deathbed, and each receives an evaluation and a prediction of his future. Later, Joseph mourns his father's death. Jacob is buried in Hebron in the cave of the field of the Machpelah in the land of Canaan, together with Abraham. The Joseph narrative continues as he assures his concerned brothers that he has forgiven them and promises to care for them and their families. Just before he dies, Joseph then tells his brothers that God will return them to their homeland. Finally, the Children of Israel promise Joseph that they will take his bones with them when they leave Egypt.  

Lesson:

When I was a child one of the lessons I learned loud and clear from my parents was…never lie, always tell the truth.  And yet, we all know the proper response when your partner asks you “How do I look?”  In this case, we’re permitted a little lie.  We know that we’re never ever to say, “you don’t look so good!”  

In our Torah portion this week, Joseph’s brothers break the rule my parents taught me. After Jacob’s death and burial in Hebron, Joseph and his brothers return to Egypt.  The brothers are rightfully afraid.  Maybe Joseph has been waiting for their father to die before taking revenge on them for all the wrong they’ve done to him.  We learn that they send a message to him saying: “Before his death your father left this instruction:  So shall you say to Joseph, ‘Forgive, I urge you, the offense and guilt of your brothers who treated you so harshly.’”

This message is quite strange.  Nowhere in our text do we learn that Jacob actually said such a thing.  In fact, Jacob didn’t even know what the brothers had done to Joseph earlier in the Torah. So, why did the brothers make up the message from Jacob? Why do the brothers lie?

Most commentators in our tradition agree that the brothers actually do lie to Joseph.  They teach us when, according to Jewish tradition, it is permissible to lie, and when it is not.  

Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel, in the first century, taught that peace was so important that it was permissible to lie for the purpose of promoting it.  He justified his argument by using the example of Joseph and his brothers.  “They lied about what their father had said to them in order to convince Joseph not to punish them but to accept them and live with them peacefully as his brothers.”  Throughout our tradition this position is supported.  It is clear that when the brothers altered the facts for the sake of peace, they did the right thing.  

Other than our story about Joseph and his brothers, there are many examples in our texts when the truth is altered for the sake of peace.  When God told Sarah she would bear a child, she laughed, thinking it would be impossible because, as she said: “Abraham is an old man.”  But for the sake of peace, God lied to Abraham about Sarah’s response.  Instead of sharing that Sarah had called Abraham an old man, God reports that Sarah said, “I am old.”  The Talmud agrees that this is the correct path.  “For the sake of family peace, even the Torah allows for misquotes or shaving the truth.”  In the clearest of words, the Talmud states, “For the sake of peace, you can lie.”

And yet, lest you think Judaism gives us permission to lie whenever we like, we learn that this principle doesn’t hold in all situations. By the 13th century in Sefer Hassidim, we are taught about a person who comes to a lender for a loan. The lender does not want to provide the loan.  In this case telling a lie for the sake of peace is forbidden.  The lender must tell the truth.  What is different here?  We are taught that “telling a lie in the interest of peace only applies to cases that have already happened and which cannot be changed, but not to events that are in the future.” 

So, when children or friends ask if it’s OK to lie, you can tell them that if they are faced with a situation that has already occurred, then, for the sake of peace, you can alter the memory of what took place, just as the brothers did in our Torah portion this week.  Creating trust and caring among family members is more important than accurately retelling the facts of the past, especially when we know those facts will hurt others and divide the family.  However, when dealing with others in business, in cases that have yet to take place, you must not lie. 

Honesty remains a foundation of Jewish life.  The prophet Zachariah states clearly, “Every person shall speak the truth with his or her neighbor.” 

Parashat Vayigash – Genesis December 25, 2020

Summary: Genesis 44:18−47:27

Our portion this week continues the story of Joseph.  We begin as Judah pleads with Joseph to free Benjamin and offers himself as a replacement.  At that point Joseph reveals himself to his brothers and forgives them for selling him into slavery. Although the famine still rages, Pharaoh invites Joseph's family to "live off the fat of the land."  Jacob learns that Joseph is still alive and, with God's blessing, goes to Egypt.  With the famine increasing, Joseph designs a plan for the Egyptians to trade their livestock and land for food. The Israelites thrive in Egypt. 

Lesson: 

There are many ways to derive lessons from the Torah.  According to the rabbis, one of the unique ways to discover a lesson was to find contradictory verses in the same portion.  Often there is a lesson to be learned from the contradiction between the two verses.

In our portion we find the very strange verse: “. . .all shepherds are abhorrent to Egyptians” (Genesis 46:34).  The rabbis ask why the Torah points out this outwardly irrelevant verse.  They provide us with a number of answers.  

The great commentator Rashi answers:  Because they (sheep) are regarded by them (Egyptians) as deities.  Hizkuni, another medieval commentator provides a different reason.  They (the Egyptians) feared that their destiny depended on them (the shepherds) and that they were slaves of the flock.  A number of traditional and contemporary commentators provide a completely different reason.  They suggest that the Egyptians were vegetarians who saw no benefit from keeping sheep.  Finally, Rashbam, a great medieval commentator, adds that the Egyptians found the shepherds abominable simply because they hated them.  

What all the commentators have in common is understanding the verse as teaching that the Egyptians hated a single class of people - they found all shepherds abhorrent. 

The second verse I’d like to explore is also found in our portion this week. “His (Jacob’s) life is bound up with his (Benjamin’s)” (Genesis 44:30). 

Radak, a great medieval commentator understood this verse to mean that the soul of the father and the son are deeply bound together. “Because of the great love that Jacob bears for Benjamin, Jacob’s soul will leave him if the brothers return from Egypt without Benjamin.”  David Nozik, a Harvard philosopher, introduces another, much more modern, reading of this verse which teaches a more universal lesson.  He writes, “Rather than thinking of ourselves as a discrete “I”, we now consider ourselves to be part of a “we”.

A friend and colleague from Los Angeles, Rabbi Brad Artson, suggests that the verse teaches us that “We don’t choose to feel pain when a loved one suffers, but we suffer that pain whether we want to or not…In growing to see ourselves as incomplete without another…we make possible the kind of growth of soul, the integration of another’s nefesh with our own, that is as close as we can come to the glimpsing of the divine.  

All these rabbis seem to agree that by binding our souls with others, as Jacob did with Benjamin, we erase the boundaries separating ourselves and have the power to create a deep union between us and others.  

In the first verse we explored today, we learn that the Egyptians find all shepherds abhorrent.  The Egyptians simply aren’t open to the possibility that a single shepherd could be a good person, that shepherds are also human beings created in God’s image, just like the Egyptians.  

In our second verse we learn that Jacobs’s soul was bound up with Benjamin’s, that one human being must overcome his or her ego and be willing to be part of a larger community.  Each of our souls can be affected by the soul of another.   

Two contradictory verses teach us two completely different lessons.  Do we want to be like the Egyptians who hate an entire class of people for no reason?  Or can we be more like Jacob and Benjamin and see that our souls are bound up with others around us?  When we follow the lesson of Jacob and Benjamin, when we focus on the universal “we” instead of the individual “I”, we act in God’s image.  It is precisely by opening ourselves to the other, by creating holy relationships, that we invite God into our lives and into the world. 
Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Vayesh & Miketz December 18, 2020

Vayesh:  Genesis 37:1:40:23 & Vayesh:  Genesis 37:1:40:23

(Last week we focused on Hannukah – this week we will review last week’s and this week’s portion)

Summary:

Our portions focus on the story of Joseph.  We read about Joseph’s dream when the wheat and the stars bow down to him.

We meet a mysterious man who directs Joseph in the field.  Then we learn that Joseph is thrown into a pit and sold to traders by his jealous brothers. We also read a narrative detour of sexual intrigue surrounding Tamar.  After that we return to Joseph’s journey into Egypt which leads to Potiphar’s home and his wife.  Finally, in an Egyptian prison cell Joseph is transformed from mere prisoner to dream interpreter par-excellence, eventually for the Pharaoh himself. In our second portion Joseph rises to a position of power and prepares Egypt for a famine.  Eventually Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt in search of food.  Joseph recognizes them and sets up a forced reunion which will only take place in next week’s Torah portion.  

 Lesson:

 Our Torah portions include an expansive narrative with deep lessons.  What’s a Jews to do, what’s a rabbi to do – so many themes, so many lessons, so many opportunities for learning! 

Reading through the parsha, I was lost in the macro – until I noticed the micro – one small verse that is repeated throughout our portion.  It called out to me amidst the richness of our text.

After being sold into slavery, we read four times: כי יהוה אתו -The Eternal was with him (was with Joseph). The commentators of our tradition see a problem here.  Isn’t God everywhere? Isn’t God with all of us all the time?  And especially Joseph – one of our ancestors, an intimate of God.  This small phrase calls out for interpretation!

And the rabbis of our tradition have taken up the challenge!

Rav Huna in a Midrash, a rabbinic tale, attempts to solve the problem.  He teaches that the verse means that “Joseph whispered God’s name whenever he came in and whenever he went out.”  It's not that Joseph received special attention from God…no, the contrary, Joseph cultivated his own internal consciousness of God’s presence.  By repeating God’s name to himself and invoking God’s love and involvement, Joseph trained himself to perceive the miraculous in the ordinary, to experience wonder in the mundane.  Rav Huna goes even further. He teaches that Joseph whispered God’s name.  His religious experience was an internal one.  He didn’t need to testify aloud to God’s presence in his life – he simply reminded himself softly as he came in and went out. 

The eternal was with Joseph…in a quiet and uneventful way, whispering God’s name, Joseph brought God into his everyday life.

The great commentator Rashi also notices the verse and attempts to solve the problem quite differently.  “The name of God was often, was fluent, in his mouth.”  For Rashi, Joseph spoke aloud about God, not merely to God.  He shared his fervent love for God, his eagerness to serve God, letting others know that God was constantly in his life. What’s the purpose of testifying aloud?  Through his public affirmation of God, Joseph may have led others to consider their own relationship with God.  Through speaking aloud of God, Joseph challenged others, provoked others to rethink their own assumptions, to search for God in their lives. 

The eternal was with Joseph…in an obvious and public manner, Joseph testified to God’s presence in the world, in his life.  By testifying aloud, Joseph brought God into his own consciousness and thus the consciousness of others. 

Quiet piety or open testifying – two interpretations of one small verse.  Both teach us.  Both provide models for us.    

Sometimes the eternal is with us in quiet personal ways: when we embody God’s love and follow in God’s footsteps, when we act Godly, demanding justice for refugees, visiting the sick, caring for the homeless,

 Sometimes the eternal is with us in public ways: when we speak about God.  Whether it's in the synagogue, in Torah study, or in our everyday lives, we need to speak of, share, learn from others about how we conceive of God, how Judaism can concretize our historic love affair with our Creator, our Liberator. 

 “The Eternal was with him.”  Just as God was with Joseph in quiet and personal ways; just as God was with Joseph in a public and communal manner, so may God be with us.  May we act Godly in our day-to-day lives. And may we testify to God’s presence in our lives.  

Miketz:  Genesis 41:1-44:17

(Last week we focused on Hannukah – this week we will review last week’s and this week’s portion)

Summary:

Our portions focus on the story of Joseph.  We read about Joseph’s dream when the wheat and the stars bow down to him.

We meet a mysterious man who directs Joseph in the field.  Then we learn that Joseph is thrown into a pit and sold to traders by his jealous brothers. We also read a narrative detour of sexual intrigue surrounding Tamar.  After that we return to Joseph’s journey into Egypt which leads to Potiphar’s home and his wife.  Finally, in an Egyptian prison cell Joseph is transformed from mere prisoner to dream interpreter par-excellence, eventually for the Pharaoh himself. In our second portion Joseph rises to a position of power and prepares Egypt for a famine.  Eventually Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt in search of food.  Joseph recognizes them and sets up a forced reunion which will only take place in next week’s Torah portion.  

Lesson:

 Our Torah portions include an expansive narrative with deep lessons.  What’s a Jews to do, what’s a rabbi to do – so many themes, so many lessons, so many opportunities for learning!

Reading through the parsha, I was lost in the macro – until I noticed the micro – one small verse that is repeated throughout our portion.  It called out to me amidst the richness of our text.

After being sold into slavery, we read four times: כי יהוה אתו -The Eternal was with him (was with Joseph). The commentators of our tradition see a problem here.  Isn’t God everywhere? Isn’t God with all of us all the time?  And especially Joseph – one of our ancestors, an intimate of God.  This small phrase calls out for interpretation!

And the rabbis of our tradition have taken up the challenge!

Rav Huna in a Midrash, a rabbinic tale, attempts to solve the problem.  He teaches that the verse means that “Joseph whispered God’s name whenever he came in and whenever he went out.”  It's not that Joseph received special attention from God…no, the contrary, Joseph cultivated his own internal consciousness of God’s presence.  By repeating God’s name to himself and invoking God’s love and involvement, Joseph trained himself to perceive the miraculous in the ordinary, to experience wonder in the mundane.  Rav Huna goes even further. He teaches that Joseph whispered God’s name.  His religious experience was an internal one.  He didn’t need to testify aloud to God’s presence in his life – he simply reminded himself softly as he came in and went out. 

The eternal was with Joseph…in a quiet and uneventful way, whispering God’s name, Joseph brought God into his everyday life.

The great commentator Rashi also notices the verse and attempts to solve the problem quite differently.  “The name of God was often, was fluent, in his mouth.”  For Rashi, Joseph spoke aloud about God, not merely to God.  He shared his fervent love for God, his eagerness to serve God, letting others know that God was constantly in his life. What’s the purpose of testifying aloud?  Through his public affirmation of God, Joseph may have led others to consider their own relationship with God.  Through speaking aloud of God, Joseph challenged others, provoked others to rethink their own assumptions, to search for God in their lives. 

The eternal was with Joseph…in an obvious and public manner, Joseph testified to God’s presence in the world, in his life.  By testifying aloud, Joseph brought God into his own consciousness and thus the consciousness of others. 

Quiet piety or open testifying – two interpretations of one small verse.  Both teach us.  Both provide models for us.    

Sometimes the eternal is with us in quiet personal ways: when we embody God’s love and follow in God’s footsteps, when we act Godly, demanding justice for refugees, visiting the sick, caring for the homeless,

Sometimes the eternal is with us in public ways: when we speak about God.  Whether it's in the synagogue, in Torah study, or in our everyday lives, we need to speak of, share, learn from others about how we conceive of God, how Judaism can concretize our historic love affair with our Creator, our Liberator. 

“The Eternal was with him.”  Just as God was with Joseph in quiet and personal ways; just as God was with Joseph in a public and communal manner, so may God be with us.  May we act Godly in our day-to-day lives. And may we testify to God’s presence in our lives.  

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

Hannukah December 11, 2020

What is the true miracle of Hannukah? 

Some teach that Hannukah celebrates the miraculous military victory of a small band of poorly armed soldiers (the Maccabees) who overcame all odds and beat the Syrian Greeks.  In this case Hannukah celebrates Jewish strength!

Some teach that Hannukah celebrates the first recorded case of a group of people standing up for the freedom to practice their religion.  The Syrian Greeks desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem and the Maccabees miraculously fought and succeeded to rededicate the Temple and offer sacrifices on the altar.  In this case Hannukah celebrates Religious Freedom.

Some teach that Hannukah celebrates the miracle of a small cruse of oil lasting for eight nights.  At a dark time in our history, after the ancient Temple had been defiled, the Maccabees were able, with God’s miraculous power to light the lamps and return Jewish celebrations to the Temple.  In this case Hannukah celebrates a holy miracle. 

As we enter Hannukah this year, during a dark time in our history and our lives, I wonder if we might see the miracle of Hannukah differently this year.  

One of the teachers who most influenced my life was Rabbi David Hartman z”l.  Years ago, I remember sitting in a class when he began to argue that the miracle of Hanukkah wasn’t one of military victory, or of a battle for religious freedom, or even a miracle wrought by God.  No, I still remember that Rabbi Hartman taught that the true miracle of Hannukah is the miracle of optimism and resilience in a time of great of uncertainty. He wrote:

“The miracle of the first day was expressed in the community’s willingness to light a small cruse of oil without reasonable assurance that their efforts would be sufficient to complete the rededication of the Temple…The ‘miracle’ of Jewish spiritual survival throughout history...may best be described by our people’s strength to live without guarantees of success and to focus on how to begin a process without knowledge of how it would end.”

The last year has been dark. Despite technology and the wonder of Zoom, we’ve been cut off from family, from friends, from loved ones.  We’ve lost the ability to reach out and really connect to those about whom we truly care through outreached arms and warm hugs. And yet, despite it all, we wake up each morning and look forward to the day ahead.  Despite it all, we’ve celebrated our Holy Days together and we join together each week for Shabbat.  Like the Maccabees, we continue to kindle light in our lives and our world without knowing how things will end. This week, for eight nights we will light our Hannukiyot and bring light into our world.  That is a miracle worth celebrating!  

Rabbi Donald Goor

Parashat Vayislach December 4, 2020

Vayishlach – Genesis 32:4-36:43

Summary:

In our portion this week, Jacob prepares to meet his brother, Esau. He wrestles with a "man," who injures Jacob while wrestling and at the end changes Jacob's name to Israel.  Jacob and Esau meet and part peacefully, each going his separate way.  Later, in a violent occurrence, Dinah is raped by Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, who was chief of the country. Jacob's sons Simeon and Levi take revenge by murdering all the males of Shechem, and Jacob's other sons join them in plundering the city.  Finally, Rachel dies giving birth to Benjamin and is buried in Ephrah, which is present-day Bethlehem. Afterwards, Isaac dies and is buried in Hebron. Jacob's and Esau's progeny are listed.

Lesson:

Thousands of years before the development of psychology, our commentators knew that dreams had meaning.  In our portion this week, our ancestor Jacob knows that his brother Esau is approaching with 400 men.  The twins haven’t seen each other since Jacob stole Esau’s birthright, so its understandable that Jacob would be nervous, afraid.  The night before they meet, while alone in the desert, Jacob meets a “man” and wrestles with him until the break of dawn.  The “man” says to Jacob, “let me go, for dawn is breaking.”  Jacob refuses and demands that the “man” bless him.  The man asks his name, and when Jacob tells him, the “man” says, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have wrestled with beings divine and human, and have prevailed.”

A fascinating story of a wrestling match with an unknown “man” which ends in the blessing of a new name.  Central to our understanding of our portion is the question, who is this “man”? 

The earliest commentators on our portion teach that the “man” was an angel who appeared in the form of a robber.  His goal was to frighten Jacob. However Jacob was strong and stood up to him.   Because Jacob was brave, he was victorious in the wrestling match and in the end was blessed with a new name. 

Other rabbis see the wrestling match as a symbolic match between the twin brothers, Jacob and Esau.  The battle between them symbolized the bitter war between the Jewish people and those nations who would seek to destroy them.  (Jacob represents the Jewish people and Esau represents those who will attack and persecute us.)  Jacob/Israel would wrestle throughout the ages with the other nations, sometimes be injured, yet would always emerge secure, strong and victorious  

Modern commentators propose that the wrestling match took place like a dream within Jacob’s mind.  Before he could meet his brother, Esau, he had to first wrestle with his own guilt for stealing his brother’s birthright.  He had to struggle within his own conscience with what he had done.  Jacob struggled to become a better, more fair, more caring person.  Only after Jacob became Israel was he ready to reconcile with Esau.  

Elie Wiesel enlarges upon this perspective.  He writes that the night struggle is when “two Jacobs come together.”  Jacob wrestles with who he really is – a person filled with doubts and guilt or a brave and successful leader.   After he wrestles with himself, he leaves with a new name – Israel, someone who has wrestled with himself as an individual and now, as founder of a people, is ready to wrestle with the world.  

The Torah never answers our question. We are left with a mystery, who is the “man” with whom Jacob wrestles? 

Personally, I love when the Torah leaves us with a mystery. It opens the text to our imagination, allowing us to read it through our own eyes and then come to our own conclusions. 

Modern psychology teaches us that it is natural, even human, for each of us to wrestle with the many conflicting tendencies in our own souls. Each of us has within us the ability to bring good or evil into the world.  We must continually wrestle with the many sides of our character.

Like Jacob I pray that we are brave enough to confront all that we find in our souls.  And like Jacob, may our wrestling lead to a deeper understanding of who we are, and eventually, lead to blessings.  

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

This week's Parashat Vayetzei - Genesis 28:10−32:3 November 27, 2020

Summary:

In our portion this week Jacob dreams of angels going up and down a ladder. After the dream God blesses him. Jacob names the place Bethel – the house of God. Later, Jacob works seven years in order to marry Rachel, but Laban tricks Jacob into marrying Leah, Rachel's older sister.  Jacob also marries Rachel but only after having to commit himself to seven more years of working for Laban. Leah, Rachel, and their maidservants, Bilhah and Zilpah, give birth to eleven sons and one daughter. Finally, Jacob’s family leave Laban's household with great wealth.

Lesson:

During our Torah portion this week, Jacob camps for a night in the desert. He dreams of a stairway reaching from the ground to the heavens, upon which angels of God are going up and down.  Later in the portion Jacob tells his wives, Rachel and Leah, that he dreamed of an angel who told him that his flocks were increasing in number and that he should return home. 

The Torah is filled with mention of angels.  When Hagar is stranded in the desert, an angel comforts her.  Abraham welcomes three angels to his tent.  Angels visit Lot in Sodom and urge him to escape before it is too late.  Just as Abraham is about to sacrifice Isaac, an angel appears and tells him to stop.  When Moses stands before the burning bush, an angel speaks to him and tells him to free his people from bondage. 

When we look at art depicting these and other biblical scenes, we see that these angels are depicted as cherub like – little creatures with wings and round, red cheeks. What does the Jewish tradition tell us about angels?

The Hebrew word for angel – Malach, means messenger.  Angels in the Torah are not described with wings or rosy cheeks, but rather as one who carries a message or as messengers of God.

In Judaism we see angels in several ways.  It could be that angels are beings that exist between God and humanity.  In the book of Psalms, we read “What is mortal man…that you have made him a little lower than the angels?”  In the Talmud Angels play a large role – so large that some believe that God consulted with angels before creating the world.  Some teach that Angels have a lifespan of only one day.  They are created in the morning, they praise God all day, and die in the evening.  We know from singing Shalom Aleichem each Friday night that angels accompany us as we begin Shabbat.

Maimonides, the ever-rational theologian, wrote that angels were forms of intelligence, agents through which God ruled the world. For Maimonides our minds are open to messages that God can implant within us – thus our minds can actually be angels through which God inspires us with new ideas and visions. 

From our Torah portion this week we learn that ancient authors believed in angels who had a real presence and could enter our world and affect us and our actions.  Modern authors propose that angels were simply a dramatic way of expressing the inner thoughts of the characters.  They might suggest that Jacob in his dream was struggling with the unknown, struggling to find his place in the world, between heaven and earth.  Quite possibly the angels were voices deep within his soul assisting him in his struggle. 

Each of us can imagine angels in the way we find most meaningful.  Clearly, they add color and dimension to our tradition!

Parashat Toldot – Genesis 25:19−28:9 November 20, 2020

Toldot – Genesi 25:19−28:9

Summary:

In our portion this week, Rebekah gives birth to twins, Esau and Jacob. Later in the portion, when he is hungry from a day hunting, Esau gives Jacob his birthright in exchange for some stew. Later, as death approaches, Isaac plans to bless Esau, his firstborn. Rebekah and Jacob deceive Isaac so that Jacob receives the blessing. Esau threatens to kill Jacob, who then flees to Haran. 

Lesson:

Evan and I have a favorite Hannukah menorah on a shelf in our home.  My father gave it to me before he died and whispered into my ear that it was an original piece of art, probably worth over $35,000.  Wow.  That’s a lot of money. However, when we had it appraised, it turned out that it was a reproduction, not worth anything near the $35,000 my father believed. I realize, when I see it sitting on the shelf, that the dollar amount is not what’s important.  The Hannukah menorah is valuable because it came as a gift from my father before he died.  

When we look around us, we see that there are many items in our lives that have sentimental value which exceeds their actual value.  It's important that we recognize the difference.  

Online sites such as eBay and Craigslist are full of personal items for sale by owners who may feel anguish—and even great pain—about letting go.  Many people ending up selling personal items. Ads to sell gold for cash are everywhere. Everything seems to be negotiable. 

In our Torah portion this week, Tol'dot, Esau comes home desperately hungry from a long day hunting and ends up selling his birthright for a song, without even considering its real or sentimental value. The Torah presents Esau as a man who acts quickly, believing himself to be in desperate circumstances. 

In ancient cultures, the birthright was the special privilege given to the firstborn male of any patriarch. At his father's death, the eldest son received a "double portion" of the inheritance—double what his brothers would get. This inheritance wasn't just economic, however; it was also about leadership. Having the birthright meant exercising leadership over the family, replacing the father as the patriarch. The holder of the birthright ruled over his brothers, and the family line would be continued through him. In short, the birthright was designed to ensure the future of the family.

Esau’s actions lead us to ask…Are there some things you'd never sell, under any circumstances? If your situation became so difficult that you were between rock bottom and a very hard decision, what would you hold onto no matter what, regardless of the cost?

Some things just should never be for sale. Integrity, for example, or freedom or love should never have a price tag, and neither should one's body.

The story of Jacob and Esau reminds us that some things should just never be for sale and that one impulsive decision, made amid an anxious circumstance, can have devastating ramifications for the future. There are lots of examples of how this story gets repeated throughout history and in our own communities:

-The businessperson who compromises her integrity by pocketing huge profits at the expense of fair wages and treatment of the company's employees.

-The respected leader who sells away his career and family for the momentary pleasure of an affair.

-The teenager who wrecks his or her future by abusing drugs just because "everyone else is doing it."

-The driver who forgoes common sense by taking the wheel after an evening of drinking and winds up taking a life in a car crash.

There is always a reason for our selling out. The question is whether we are thinking clearly. The ultimate question is this: What determines the value of what we are willing to sell and the value of who we are?  Do we allow God and our tradition to determine our value or do we let circumstances drive what we feel we need?  There are values that are priceless.  Integrity is foremost among them.  

The story of Jacob and Esau reminds us that everything has value – both sentimental and actual value – and that anything can or should be sold.  They also remind us not to follow in their footsteps.  There are some things that should not be sold.  Our integrity is worth preserving for ourselves and our children, no matter the price!

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor

This week’s Parasha: Chaye Sarah - November 13, 2020

Chaye Sarah:  Genesis 23:1-25:18

Summary:  In our portion this week Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah, in Hebron, in order to bury his wife Sarah. Abraham then sends his servant to his homeland to find a bride for Isaac. The servant meets Rebekah who shows tremendous kindness by offering to draw water for the servant as well as the servant’s camels at the well. The servant meets Rebekah's family and then takes Rebekah to Isaac, who marries her. At the age of one hundred and seventy-five years, Abraham dies, and Isaac and Ishmael bury him with Sarah in the cave of Machpelah together with Sarah.

Lesson: Dating apps seem to ignore the famous saying “Beauty is only skin deep.”  In modern day dating apps, we swipe left, or swipe right, based simply on the profile picture.  Our Torah portion this week teaches us that beauty isn't about having a pretty face.  It's about so much more.  Beauty includes having a pretty mind, a pretty heart, and a pretty soul. 

In our portion, after Sarah dies, Abraham sends a servant back to his homeland to choose a bride for his son Isaac.  The challenge for the servant was a difficult one.  How do you find the most suitable marriage partner?  What standards do you use?  How do you judge that the person you choose will make a good wife?

When the servant arrives in Abraham’s homeland of Aram he meets Rebekah at a well.  The Torah describes her as “tovat mareh – very beautiful.”  At first glance, it seems that the servant swipes in the correct direction simply because Rebekah is attractive!  However, reading the portion more carefully teaches us that the servant found Rebekah attractive for completely different reasons.  

Our rabbinic commentators teach that Rebekah’s beauty was evident in her actions. First, she provided the servant with water, then she ran to get water for his animals.  They add that Rebekah carefully thought about each word she spoke, showing concern for the servant as well as for the animals.  

For our commentators Rebekah is “tovat mareh”.  She is not only physically beautiful, but she is also a beautiful person.  She is kind and helpful to the servant even though he is a stranger.  She is thoughtful of his feelings and careful in what she says to him. And her concern is not only about him but also about his animals.  

It's interesting to note that the Torah never describes her clothing.  Her beauty is not in her appearance or her complexion.  The details in the Torah focus only on how she treats other people, how she speaks to them, how she offers hospitality, and how she reaches out to aid a stranger and a wanderer visiting her land.  

In our modern world we  often focus only on the surface, on what is visible, on what is shiny and attractive.  Rebekah, in our Torah portion this week, teaches us that beauty in Judaism is so much more than what we see at first glance. Without knowing anything about the servant, and who he served, Rebekah acted with pure kindness.  She models for us what it means to act with beauty.  She is generous and giving, caring and considerate.  Because of these qualities the servant found her beautiful.  Because of these qualities Rebekah becomes one of the matriarchs of our people.  

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Donald Goor