Bo

Exodus 10:1−13:16

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Peter S. Knobel; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Learning and Acting on the Lessons of the Exodus

In this portion the plagues come to a devastating end. The final plague is the death of the first males born of humans and animals: only the Israelites are spared.

Moses said: "Thus says the Eternal: Toward midnight I will go forth among the Egyptians, and every [male] first-born in the land of Egypt shall die, from the first-born of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the first-born of the slave girl who is behind the millstones; and all the first-born of the cattle." (Exodus 11:4-5)

The plague of the death of the firstborn is deeply disturbing. The loss of human and animal life appears to be extremely cruel. At the time, it seems to have been the necessary condition for the liberation of our ancestors from Egyptian slavery. The stark irony is that the liberation of human beings from slavery almost never comes without the loss of life. Rarely are oppressors willing to relinquish their power peacefully. They seem hell-bent on inflicting death and devastation not only on those they oppress, but also on the whole population under their control. In this portion we can envision God as having warned Pharaoh and his courtiers nine times with increasingly severe consequences. But it is only after God destroys all the firstborn males that Pharaoh gets the message.

Some understand God's action in this story as the equivalent of military action. When faced with an oppressive regime that is slaughtering its own population, do the nations of the world choose to intervene militarily? The question of military intervention is complex. As Jews, we are constantly angered and perplexed by the failure of the world to prevent the Shoah. We often ask, why didn't President Roosevelt bomb the rail lines to Auschwitz? How many times since the Shoah has the world failed to respond to genocide? When are we humans willing to say, as God says at the beginning of the Book of Exodus, "I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters; yes I am mindful of their sufferings. I have come down to rescue them . . ." (Exodus 3:7-8)? Let us remember it only took God four hundred years!

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Va-eira

Exodus 6:2−9:35

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Peter S. Knobel; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

God Does Not Act Alone

Parashat Va-eira is an epic and escalating battle between God and Pharaoh. God having decided to finally rescue the Israelites from cruel servitude sends the reluctant Moses and his spokesman Aaron to confront Pharaoh with a demand that he allow the Israelites to journey out into the desert to worship God. Moses not only has to convince Pharaoh to accede to what would be a seemingly foolhardy request, but also to convince the Israelites that their servitude is coming to an end.

The clash of wills between God and Pharaoh, who was considered a god by Egyptians, plays itself out in Pharaoh's unwillingness to the let the Israelites leave. Ten times in the text we learn that God intends to harden Pharaoh's heart (Exodus 4:21; 7:3; 9:12; 10:1, 20, 27; 11:10; 14:4, 8, 17) depriving him of the ability to assent to God's demand to free his Israelite slaves and ten times Pharaoh demonstrates his own stubbornness (7:13, 14, 22; 8:11, 15, 28; 9:7, 34, 35; 13:15) by refusing to let the Israelites depart in spite of the suffering it is causing the Egyptians. The question seems to be, who will prevail? Will it be the God who demands liberation for his people and sets in motion the idea that all human beings – the citizen and the stranger both – should be treated with respect and dignity? Or will it be the xenophobic god-king Pharaoh for whom the stranger is detestable?

Often the tyrant is willing to allow his or her own people to suffer rather than submit to reason. To extinguish what Pharaoh saw as a rebellion he increased the oppression of the Hebrews. In response to plagues of increasing severity he refused to change course. In the next portion we read the story of the climactic plague of the death of the firstborn, which will finally convince Pharaoh to relent.

The Israelites witness this clash of wills time and again, perhaps believing that God's desire to free them will prevail over Pharaoh's desire to maintain the status quo only to have their hopes dashed. They share in the fear and frustration that Moses and Aaron must have experienced. Why is all this frustration and suffering necessary? The usual answer is that it is to demonstrate God's omnipotence to both the Israelites and the Egyptians.

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Sh'mot

Exodus 1:1−6:1

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Peter S. Knobel; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Who Is This God? “Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh”

The Book of Exodus (Sh'mot) tells two key narratives of Jewish sacred history: the Exodus from Egypt and the gift of Torah. When they are joined to the Creation narrative of Genesis, the three stories constitute the basic theology of Judaism, which is enshrined in the blessings before and after the Sh'ma prayer.

The opening parashah of the book, also called, Sh'mot (Names), presents us with many conundrums. Why has it taken God more than four hundred years to respond to the pain of His enslaved people? Why doesn't God simply go down to Egypt and rescue them without the help of Moses? Why does God harden Pharaoh's heart, preventing him from being morally responsible for keeping the people enslaved? Who is this God who when asked to identify Himself or Herself says, "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh" (Exodus 3:14)?

It has always struck me as strange that God does not act alone: God works through human beings. In pondering this phenomenon I came to realize that God does not intervene in any direct way in human affairs. God's role is as a source of inspiration and encouragement to us humans to create a world of justice, compassion, freedom, and peace. Only if we are so moved by the harsh realities of human suffering and are committed to relieving that suffering can we hear the call. God says "I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters. . . . I will send you . . . to free My people . . . " (Exodus 3:7, 10). When a person responds, "Here I am (Hineini)," as Moses does, God has the means to act in history (Exodus 3:4).

The choice of Moses is interesting. Moses himself had been rescued from death as an infant. He was raised in Pharaoh's palace as the son of Pharaoh's daughter and knew well the halls of absolute power and despotism, but resisted their attractions, identifying instead with his people of origin, the Israelite slaves. (Entire books have been written on the character of Moses alone!)

When Moses sees an Egyptian taskmaster abusing a Hebrew slave, his response to oppression is to rise up in anger and kill (deliberately or by accident) the taskmaster. Then, when the deed becomes known, Moses flees to Midian to save his own life. His first act in Midian is to defend Zipporah and her sisters from the shepherds who try to prevent them from watering their father's flock. Moses's sense of justice is not limited to filial connections but extends to the stranger as well.1

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Va-y'chi

Genesis 47:28–50:26

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org
According to Jewish tradition, on the eve of Shabbat and holidays, before reciting kiddush, parents bless their children.

You can find these blessings in Mishkan T'filah, the siddur (prayer book) of the Reform Movement. There you will see that sons are blessed with these words: "May God inspire you to live like Ephraim and Manasseh."1 Rashi teaches that the blessing for boys is based on Genesis 48:20 in this week's parashah, when Jacob blesses his grandsons, the sons of Joseph.

There is no equivalent blessing for daughters in the Five Books of Torah. But there is a blessing in the Book of Ruth (4:11) that comes close: "May God make the woman who is coming into your house [Ruth] like Rachel and Leah, both of whom built up the House of Israel." And so in many Jewish homes today, one or both parents offer this blessing found in Mishkan T'filah2 to their daughters: "May God inspire you to live like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah."

I remember the first time that I witnessed this ceremony. When we were graduate students in Israel, my wife Terry and I were invited to Shabbat dinner at the home of dear friends in Tel Aviv. I was spellbound as the father placed his hands on the heads of his children and spoke those blessings. At that moment, I felt a profound connection to my Jewish past and future, and to my family. I promised myself in that dining room in Tel Aviv that if we were fortunate enough to have our own children, I would offer those blessings to our offspring.

Beyond my own family, the most powerful moment that I have experienced with these blessings was in 1983 when Terry and I sat in the Moscow apartment of Itzik Kogan, one of the leaders of the refusenik movement in the Former Soviet Union. We had flown to there to bring support to refuseniks: the women, men, and children who were demanding the right to emigrate to Israel in order to lead full Jewish lives. Itzik placed his hands upon the heads of his children and offered roughly the same blessing as Jacob had pronounced. As he did so, this father was saying, in effect: "We will make whatever sacrifices we must in order to live freely as Jews. We are determined that our children will live proudly in the Jewish State."

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Vayigash

Genesis 44:18−47:27

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Does God Have a Plan for You?

After receiving bad news or experiencing a tragic event, people will sometimes respond with the words, "It's God's will." There's even a Yiddish phrase that captures the idea, "It's bashert," meaning it was meant to be.

What is your reaction to such a response? Are you comfortable with it? Or does it fall on unreceptive ears? Is it in keeping with your philosophy of life or does it rub you the wrong way?

In this week's parashah, Vayigash, Joseph reassures his brothers that they should not feel guilty about the way they treated him. They had good reason to be frightened and harbor guilt. After all, they had tossed Joseph into a pit and sold him to passing merchants who led the lad into servitude in Egypt.

But Joseph tells his brothers not to fear, because ". . . it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. There have already been two years of famine in the land, and (there remain) five more years without plowing or harvesting. So God sent me ahead of you to assure your survival in the land, and to keep you alive for a great deliverance" (Genesis 45:5-7).

If Joseph had spoken Yiddish, he might have said that it was bashert. Of course he couldn't use those words because Yiddish developed more than two millennia later than the time Joseph lived.

Bashert suggests a fatalism that doesn't quite fit in with the lives we live today. Most of us believe in free will. We believe that we actually have choices and are responsible for the choices that we make. Most of our actions seem to be under our control. If a student works hard and writes a fine paper, she expects to be rewarded with a good grade. If that paper were bashert--destined to be written in just those words--no matter what she did, any grade or reward would be meaningless. Maimonides taught that free will is a fundamental belief in Judaism.1 (A Maimonides Reader, Isadore Twersky, ed., Behrman House, New York, 1972, pp. 77-78).

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Mikeitz

Genesis 41:1−44:17

D'var Torah By: Rabbi Bruce Kadden; Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Power of Names and Naming

Elie Wiesel has written, "In Jewish history, a name has its own history and its own memory. It connects beings with their origins. To retrace its path is then to embark on an adventure in which the destiny of a single word becomes one with that of a community; it is to undertake a passionate and enriching quest for all those who may live in your name."1

From the story of the Creation through the rest of Genesis, the giving of names has been a significant part of the biblical narrative. After creating the wild animals and birds, God "brought the man to see what he would call each one; and whatever the man called it, that became the creature's name" (Genesis 2:19).

In this week's portion, Mikeitz, Joseph moves from being falsely imprisoned to becoming second in command in Egypt due to his ability to interpret dreams. As Joseph settles into his new life, he is given a new name by Pharaoh: Zaphenath-paneah, which is "Egyptian for 'God speaks; He lives' or 'Creator of life.' "2 This name signifies not only that Joseph is now fully part of Egyptian society, but also that his special gift that has allowed him to succeed is the ability to speak for God.

Pharaoh also gives Joseph "Asenath daughter of Potiphera priest of On as a wife" (Genesis 41:45) and they soon become parents of two boys. "Joseph named the first-born son Manasseh [Hebrew, Menasheh], 'For God has made me forget all the troubles I endured in my father's house.' And he named the second one Ephraim, 'For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction' " (Genesis 41:51-52). These explanations may or may not accurately reflect the actual linguistic derivation of the names, but they do reflect the biblical author's understanding of the meaning of the name in relationship to the narrative.

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Vayeishev

Genesis 37:1−40:23

God’s Presence Can Be a Wondrous Thing

By Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

When I was a young rabbinic student at Hebrew Union College, I served a small Reform congregation in Fairmont, West Virginia. After Shabbat dinner at the home of a dedicated member (they were all dedicated in Fairmont!), I walked to synagogue with my host. On the way, I naively observed, "Since you go to shul every Shabbat, you must have a strong faith in God." His response surprised me: "Truthfully, I have little faith. I don't go to temple to be with God; I go to be with other Jews."

If I were to share that story with an evangelical Christian, she might not get it. Most evangelicals go to church to be with God (and with their friends, as well). The difference has to do, in part, with Jews being a minority. Especially in small communities, we feel a strong need to be with other Jews. But fundamentally, being Jewish often is not about God. It is frequently about Israel, values, social justice, ethnic bonds, customs, rituals, and preserving those traditions from generation to generation.

I meet many liberal Jews--Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, or agnostic--who tell me that they envy the strong faith of Evangelicals, Orthodox Jews, and others. They wonder why we don't have more God-talk. They wish they could feel the Presence of God more intensely in their lives. They long for just a fraction of the faith that some of their neighbors have.

In Parashat Vayeishev, we read that when Joseph was in Egypt, "the Eternal was with Joseph." Moreover, his master, Potiphar, Captain of Pharaoh's Guard, "saw that the Eternal was with him" (Genesis 39:2-3).

What does it mean "to be with God"? How did Joseph get to be with God? Did he pray three times a day or feel confident that God would protect him? What would it take for you and me to "be with God"? Let's consider how our tradition might respond to these questions.

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Vayishlach

Genesis 32:4−36:43

Chasing Your Demons: Finding Your Friend

By Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Many years ago, I conducted a funeral for a man who died at the age of ninety-four. What I remember most about that funeral was not the fact that he had achieved national recognition as a biologist, but rather that he had four daughters and none of them spoke to each other. I still see them in my mind's eye at the synagogue service, and later at the cemetery, purposely sitting apart and avoiding even the slightest contact with one another.

I thought about them as I read this week's parashah, Vayishlach. After Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright blessing, Jacob fled his home, spent twenty years in the service of his abusive uncle, Laban, and then stealthily, with his wives and children in tow, hurried back to Canaan where he knew he might encounter disaster at the hands of his brother.

In Genesis 32, he stops running. After fording the Jabbok River, he remains alone and wrestles with someone until dawn brakes. One of the great questions of biblical literature is: "With whom did Jacob wrestle?" It seems clear that he wrestled with God because he said, "I have seen God face-to-face" (Genesis 32:31). And yet, the text tells us that "a man wrestled with him" (32:25). That man might have been his vision of Esau or perhaps he was struggling with himself. Haven't we all struggled with our fears and vulnerabilities at some time in the dead of night? Jacob anticipated Esau's arrival with a small army. That's enough for a nightmare.

While we cannot know for certain what occurred that night, Professor Norman J. Cohen from Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion suggests that Jacob "was conscious of all the different forces in his life with which he struggled: God, Esau, the side of himself that haunted him like a shadow. He was surely confronting both the human and divine in his life... That night, all the parts of Jacob and all the parts of his life came together, and he would never be the same" (Voices from Genesis, Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights, 1998, p. 125).

We do know that in the struggle he was wounded and left with a limp. Aren't we all wounded at some time or another, and left with the scars of life's conflicts?

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Vayeitzei

Genesis 28:10−32:3

By Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Finding the Spiritual Within Us

What is the most common word used in discussions about religion today? You might think it is "God," "prayer," or "faith." We hear those words a lot.

But most common of all is "spirituality": it is frequently used, rarely defined, and difficult to define. There is no Classical Hebrew equivalent: in Modern Hebrew it's called ruchaniyut. The concept of spirituality comes more from Christian philosophy, which historically divides world into the material and the spiritual. In Judaism we see only one world: material and spiritual at the same time. And in Judaism, the material is always potentially spiritual. The most ordinary, mundane thing has the potential to be spiritual: dirt, sweat, food, snow, or rain.

Why is the search for spirituality so important today?

You can probably answer that question as well as I can. We've passed through a decade or two – some would say centuries – of materialism: industrial revolution, scientific breakthroughs, technology formerly unimagined. We've seen prosperity in this country and other Western lands. We have accomplished a great deal materially and indulged ourselves generously. And we've paid little attention to the non-material, the spiritual. Sometimes we've grown so distant from the spiritual that we've forgotten it existed – or how to connect with it.

The Kobriner Rebbe used this simple teaching: he turned to his Chasidim and asked: "Do you know where God is?" He took a piece of bread, showed it to them, and observed: "God is in this piece of bread. Without God's expression of power in all nature, this bread would have no existence."1

Some people think that God is hiding from us. But as we learn in the Book of Jonah (chapter 1) it is we who hide from God.

How do we hide from God? We hide by not letting ourselves think in spiritual ways; by avoiding places, moments, and situations where we might be more open to God; by convincing ourselves that we are not spiritual.

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Tol'dot

Helicopter Parents and the Jewish Future

Genesis 25:19−28:9

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Book of Genesis is full of unethical behavior or, at the least, highly questionable actions by our matriarchs and patriarchs. Abraham let Sarah be physically available to Pharaoh, indicating that she was his sister. He then proceeded to come within a knife's breath of sacrificing his son Isaac at Mount Moriah. Sarah dispatched Hagar and Ishmael from the security of her tent into the unforgiving wilderness. Isaac dissembled before Abimelech, obfuscating his relationship to Rebekah. Jacob and his father Isaac engage in a biblical game of "can-you-guess-who-I-am?" as the blessing for the first born goes to the younger brother.

And then there is Rebekah. Let's review her role in the unfolding drama of the Hebrew family. Isaac grows old and hungers for a tasty dish of game from the hand of Esau, the hunter. Overhearing this request, Rebekah quickly cooks up a scrumptious meal and instructs Jacob to deliver the goods in order to receive the blessing intended for Esau. When Esau learns that his brother has usurped his position, he threatens to kill him. Rebekah, never one to remain passive, dispatches Jacob to stay with her brother Laban in order to protect her son's life.

Rebekah is the most remarkable manager in biblical literature. From the moment Abraham's servant Eliezer meets her at the well seeking a wife for Isaac to this episode where she schemes and tricks her family to ensure that Jacob, rather than Esau, becomes patriarch, she manipulates the characters like an all-knowing director on the stage of life. This is some family-weak characters and strong ones, tricky folks, shadowy plots, and plenty of dysfunction!

But before we pass them off as ideal candidates for long-term family therapy, (which they certainly need), let's try to understand some of the lessons the biblical story conveys.

In his work, Certain People of the Book, Maurice Samuel describes Rebekah as the manager who was "chosen to guard Isaac in the fulfillment of his destiny."1 It was thanks to Rebekah, Samuel argues, that the future of the Jewish people rested in the hands of Jacob who by temperament was best prepared for the role. She saw the uniqueness of each of her sons. What had to get done, got done, albeit in a messy way. But we are human and we function in an imperfect world.

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Chayei Sarah

Genesis 23:1−25:18

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org 

Knowing that We Are Blessed

As Abraham reached the twilight of his years, our Torah portion informs us that "the Eternal had blessed Abraham in every way" (Genesis 24:1).

The Rabbis were perplexed by such an assertion. No surprise! Do you know anyone on earth who is blessed with everything? Some people may give the impression that they "have everything." But when you scratch the surface you will find that we all carry burdens-physical, emotional, and financial. We live with disappointment, with pain, with hopes not realized and goals never achieved.

So what about Abraham? As Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (known as Ramban or Nachmanides) suggests, Abraham was blessed with riches, possessions, honor, and longevity (Ramban on Genesis 24:1). What was notable was that he was beyond the need for worldly gain. What do you think that might mean?

Jewish tradition offers many opinions about who is truly blessed. One of the most striking observations comes from Ben Zoma in Pirkei Avot, ( Ethics of the Fathers), who asks: "Who is rich?" He responds: "one who is happy with what he has" (4.1). Is it possible that Abraham had reached the point in life where he was not only blessed, but also knew that he was blessed?

There's a big difference between being blessed and knowing that we are blessed.

I'm acquainted with people who can be seated at their dinner table surrounded by children and grandchildren, and be aggravated because a family member arrived late or didn't remember his last birthday. And there are those whose perspective is quite different: who take in the scene and praise God for their abundant blessings. The latter are the ones who truly cherish what we have: we human beings are the only creatures on earth who are not only blessed, but also capable of knowing we are blessed.

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Vayeira

Genesis 18:1–22:24

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

A Visit from the Eternal

Have you ever had an unexpected visitor whose surprise visit made a big difference in your life?

It might have been an old friend who showed up one day to express appreciation for a long forgotten kindness that you had done for her. Perhaps someone appeared unexpectedly to apologize for slighting you a while ago. Or maybe you have been a hospital patient and a visitor arrived with words of such profound support that they actually helped you heal.

Many years ago, when I was a rabbinic student, my father died at the young age of fifty-one while I was out of the country. The shiva took place in Washington, D.C. where my parents had been living. To my surprise, Rabbi Balfour Brickner, z"l, showed up to offer his condolence and support. I had met him only a few times and my parents did not belong to Rabbi Brickner's synagogue, but rather to another one in Washington, D.C. I have no recollection of his words to me, but his presence gave me strength at just the moment that I needed it the most. It felt like a gift from heaven.

I thought of that visit when I pondered the opening verses of Vayeira: "The Eternal appeared to him (Abraham) by the oaks of Mamre . . . at the hottest time of the day. Looking up he (Abraham) saw: lo-three men standing opposite him!" (Genesis 18:1-2).

Who were these visitors?

What was their relationship to the Eternal?

Why were they visiting Abraham?

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Lech L'cha

Genesis 12:1−17:27

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Trip of a Lifetime

Think of the most challenging journey you ever took. Was it your first day at school or when you were dropped off at sleepaway camp for the first time? Perhaps it was a trip to the hospital for surgery.

I think mine was when I was ten years old. My parents were relocating from Chicago to Atlanta and they arranged for me to stay with loving relatives in northern Indiana for six months while they got "settled" in the south. Well, it may have been settling for them, but it was anything but settling for me.

I thought about that childhood experience as I read God's command to Abram in Lech L'cha: "Go forth from your land, your birthplace, your father's house, to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you. I will make your name great, and it shall be a blessing" (Genesis 12:1-2).

Abram was seventy-five years old at that point, with a family and plenty of possessions. But the uncertainty must have been overwhelming. When I confronted my journey at age ten, I had no choice. But Abram did. He could have said: "God, I'm honored that you chose me, but I'm too old. We're well established in Haran. Thanks, but no thanks."

So why did he obey God's command? And what can we learn about ourselves and the Jewish people from his journey? According to Professor E. A. Speiser, Abram's journey was "no routine expedition of several hundred miles. Instead, it was the start of an epic voyage in search of spiritual truths, a quest that was to constitute the central theme of all biblical history" (The Anchor Bible, Genesis [Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1964], p. 88).

If you react to this parashah as I do, you may be flooded with questions. Why is God interested in showing Abram a "particular land" and making of him a "great nation"? What does it mean to be a great nation? What are the blessings that will flow and what kind of spiritual truths was he looking for?

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Rosh Chodesh/Parshat Noach

Bereshit 6:9-11:32

By Charles A. Kroloff, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

This is Noah's chronicle. Noah was a righteous man; in his generation, he was above reproach: Noah walked with God. - Genesis 6:9

Do you believe in second chances? According to the Torah, God does.

After the earth became corrupt and God determined "to wipe them (all flesh) off the earth" (Genesis 6:13), God gave Noah a heads up and told him to become maritime savvy and build an ark so that his family and the animals could start over.

After the flood, God established a covenant with the earth and every living creature (9:13-17).

It appeared, at least for the moment, the worst was over. The Torah lists the progeny of Noah who constitute a genealogical listing of the nations that were known to the Israelites at that time. Our parashah emphasizes that the nations were unified with one language.

But then things started to fall apart. The settlers of Shinar, an area of Babylonia that is northern Iraq today, undertook a building project.

They declared "Come, let us build a city with a tower that reaches the sky (v'rosho vashamayim)" (11:4). The tower may have resembled the ziggurats the Mesopotamians erected in their flood plains, towers that mimicked natural mountains.

Towers, in and of themselves, are not necessarily bad. But these were not simply towers built for some utilitarian or aesthetic purpose. These towers were motivated by an overweening, giant-size ambition. Their goal, declared the builders, was to "make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over all the earth!" (11:4). The midrash suggests that the builders intended nothing less than to ascend to heaven, set up idols as high as they could reach, and wage war with God.

They engaged in labor practices that would make Idi Amin squirm. And how did they treat the workers who built the tower? The midrash suggests that if a brick fell the builders were distraught. But if a human being fell, they hardly noticed. They were so focused on building that they would not allow a pregnant woman who was making bricks to stop in order to give birth. When the newborn arrived, they would place the baby in a sheet and tie it around her body while she continued to labor at her task (Louis Ginzburg, The Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzburg, [Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1954, Vol. 1, p. 179).

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Bereishit

Genesis 1:1-6:8

What’s So Special about Being Human?

BY: CHARLES A. KROLOFF, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Have you ever asked your rabbi a question about the Bible? There are four or five questions that I am asked over and over again. One of the most frequently asked is about this week's parashah, B'reishit, the first portion of the first Book of Torah: "Why should we pay any attention to the biblical story of Creation? After all, isn't it full of unscientific, antiquated myths that we have outgrown?"

It's a fair question. After all, if you embrace the concept of evolution, you can hardly justify creation in seven days. Now there are some people who attempt to "fit" the biblical narrative into a scientific model by suggesting that "one day" corresponds to millennia and that each day more or less mirrors evolution. Good try, but that explanation ultimately falls short, leaving the Creation story to resemble third-rate science fiction.

Of course, you could go literal, reading Genesis as a "creationist" would, relegating evolution to one of many competing theories. For most of us, this is not a very satisfying way to go.

So we need to shift direction and think in different terms. I'm convinced that there are profound truths embedded in the story, but they are spiritual truths, not scientific ones. They address the deepest questions that a human being can ask, questions that flow not from the microscope, but from the spirit, questions that respond not to scientific measurement, but to the soul that searches.

Let's begin with one of those questions: What's so special about being human?

According to the Creation story, God created us b'tzelem Elohim, "in [the divine] image." (Genesis 1:27). The singer of Psalms probably had this in mind when he or she wrote that God made us "a little less than divine" (Psalms 8.6). It is a blasphemous thing to act like we are God. But it is an awesome thing to believe that we can fulfill ideals that we associate with God: to do justly, love mercy, lift up the fallen, and heal the sick. It's like saying that we detect within ourselves some of the holiness that we associate with God.

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Chol HaMo-eid Sukkot Intermediate Days of Sukkot

Exodus 33:12–34:26

D'var Torah By: Roberta Louis Goodman, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org 

• To Everything There Is a Season: Turn, Turn, Turn to Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) this Sukkot

  One of the privileges and responsibilities that I have as a congregational professional is serving on the faculty of our URJ camps. My roles include providing support to counselors and campers, helping out with services, tutoring bar/bat mitzvah students, and assisting with the study theme. Imagine my surprise when three summers ago, my first serving in the unit at Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute (OSRUI) that focuses on the arts for students in the seventh through tenth grades-that our topic wasKohelet, the Book of Ecclesiastes. My immediate reaction was: "It's so dark. This is summer camp where they are supposed to have fun! What are they going to get out of the ramblings of an older person reviewing and lamenting on life?"

  Three summers later, the staff members-and even some of the campers-are still talking about the session. The mere mention of the word Kohelet evokes a nod, a knowing utterance, of something that was deep yet accessible, provocative yet distressing, memorable and powerful.

  Traditions about when Kohelet is read during Sukkot vary based on one's location, roots, and/or the actual days of the week of Sukkot. I seize upon any opportunity that I have to share and exploreKohelet further, hence this d'var Torah.

  In this d'var Torah, I share some insights on Kohelet, the book, and Kohelet, its narrator, followed by a look at what the connections are between Kohelet and Sukkot. I close with a reflection on why Kohelet was so appealing to these teens and, finally, a thought or message about life that emerges from Kohelet.

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Voices of Torah / Yom HaKippurim

Yom Kippur, Holidays Deuteronomy 29:9–14, 30:11–20 (Morning) and Leviticus 19:1-4, 9-18, 32-37 (Afternoon)

D'var Torah By: Lawrence Kushner, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Decades ago, Rabbi Jack Reimer explained Yom Kippur for me this way. It's not saying: I'm sorry I was bad and I won't do it again. That's only a Sunday school, superficial expression of something much deeper and spiritually far more important.

Look at it this way, he suggested: For twenty-four hours you wear white, you don't eat, you don't drink, you don't sleep (much), you don't have sex, and (less well-known) you don't perfume, anoint, or deodor­ize yourself either. Reimer says, just look around the room on Yom Kippur afternoon, say around four o'clock, at a bunch of Jews who have been observing the above laws and customs and you realize you're looking at a room full of people who are dressed up like their own corpses!

They're rehearsing their own deaths! Atonement, shmatonment! Yom Kippur is a day of death-the death of the old year, the death of the old sins, and the death of the old ego. But it is not morbid. Indeed, it is predicated on the hope (and a prayer) that a new year and, above all, a new ego will be born the exact moment that final t'kiah g'dolah shofar blast is sounded. It is a day of death- so that there can be new life. You want that a better and purified you should emerge from the encrusted shell that a year of sinful acting has made you ? There's only one way: The old you has to go! Your "something"must become "Nothing."

The Chasidic master Rabbi Yehiel Michal of Zlochov teaches the same lesson. He cites a sermon by his master, Rabbi Dov Baer of Mez­hirech, first taught in 1777 (Yosher Divrei Emet , Meshullam Feibush of Zabrazh [Jerusa­lem, 1974], p. 14); a translation of the complete text appears in my The Way into Jewish Mystical Tradition [Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2000], pp. 18-20).

In order to appreciate the nuance and the tongue-in-cheek humor of this homily, we must revisit and redefine two very common Hebrew words. The first word, yesh, means "somethingness" or simply "isness," but according to the kabbalists, it re­fers to virtually all reality. Yesh is anything (not just material) that has a beginning, an end, a location, a border, geographic coordinates, a definition. It is every thing (and every non-thing) in the world. Yesh is not bad. Indeed, it's only problematic if you think that's all there is. That brings us to the second word, ayin.

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Ha'azinu

Deuteronomy 32:1-32:52

By Yael Splansky, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

A World of Words

Back at the Burning Bush, God commands Moses to return to Egypt, to go before Pharaoh and deliver God's message: "Let us go...to sacrifice to the Eternal our God" (Exodus 3:18). Moses tries to dodge the command, saying: "Please, O my lord, I have never been a man of words (Lo ish d'varim anochi), either in times past or now that You have spoken to Your servant: I am slow of speech (k'vad peh), and slow of tongue (u'ch'vad lashon)" (Exodus 4:10).

Well, Moses has come a long way since then! Some forty years later, Moses delivers the longest monologue in all of Jewish history-the Book of D'varim, the "Book of Words." He has certainly found his tongue, found his voice. The self-doubting man who once said, "I have never been a man of words," now launches the Book of D'varim, the Book of Words and it seems he can't stop talking. According to our Sages, the day Moses performs this prophetic poem of Haazinu is the day of his death (Targum Yonatan on Song of Songs 1:1; Tanchuma,B'shalach 12). It is his last attempt to move them with words, to shape them into the people they are becoming.

"Give ear, O heavens, let me speak;
Let the earth hear the words I utter!
May my discourse come down as the rain,
My speech distill as the dew,
Like showers on young growth,
Like droplets on the grass.
For the name of the Eternal I proclaim;
Give glory to our God!" (Deuteronomy 32:1-3)

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Selichot; Nitzavim-VaYelech

Deuteronomy 29:9–31:30

Standing Together, Standing Apart

D'VAR TORAH BY: OREN J. HAYON, Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Hebrew month of Elul invites us into a period of preparatory self-reflection and contemplation, calling us to center our thoughts on our own t'shuvah. Elul culminates in the observance of S'lichot, a time of penitential prayer and meditation when we ready ourselves for the spiritual labor of the Days of Awe. This observance (which will occur on this Shabbat) guides us toward an examination of our inner selves and, in turn, provides a foretaste of the High Holy Days themselves.

This week brings a preview of another sort as well. Our scheduled Torah portion, Parashat Nitzavim/Vayeilech, offers a bit of textual foreshadowing: its words contain the Torah reading we will hear in our synagogues on Yom Kippur morning. The words of the portion are already familiar to many of us:

"You stand this day, all of you, before the Eternal your God-you tribal heads, you elders, and you officials, all the men of Israel, you children, you women, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer-to enter into the covenant of the Eternal your God, which the Eternal your God is concluding with you this day . . . not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the Eternal our God and with those who are not with us here this day." (Deuteronomy 29:9-14)

When we read these words, we draw comfort from their inclusiveness and from the charitable impulse of the biblical text. God's covenant belongs not merely to the wise or the influential, Deuteronomy asserts, but to every member of our community regardless of age, gender, or social station; its expansiveness extends even to include the countless generations yet to come. This instinct toward outreach is a tonic for Jews who have felt excluded or overlooked by their religious community. The Torah portion reminds all of us: the covenant includes you, too. What we frequently overlook, however, is that our willingness to extend the boundaries of covenant for the sake of inclusion and universalism necessarily entails demands as well as social rewards.

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KI TAVO

DEUTERONOMY 26:1–29:8

D'var Torah By: Nancy H. Wiener Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

To Delight in Life

This week's Torah portion presents a seemingly endless litany of blessings and curses. These blessings and curses seem to follow a simple equation: follow God's commands and you will receive blessing; ignore or transgress them and you will receive curses. However, a more nuanced message is also embedded in the words of the parashah. Curses arise "because you would not serve the Eternal your God in joy and gladness over the abundance of everything . . ." (Deuteronomy 28:47).

Everything is here not only in small quantities, but also in abundance. Do we see and appreciate the abundance? Does it evoke in us a sense of joy, a desire to do what we can to perpetuate it or, in the language of our forebears, to serve the Source of it? The biblical writers were clear that the world is a mixture of good and bad, blessing and curse. In fact, for most of us, consistent with the layout of this week's parashah, it seems curses, or potential curses, far outnumber blessings. Yet, the text challenges us to see the links between our attitudes and behaviors, and repercussions for ourselves and others.

As some of you know, the word for "blessing" (b'rachah) and the word for "knee" (berech) share the same Hebrew root ( bet-reish-chaf). When we are aware of the blessings of this world, we are humbled-metaphorically, brought to our knees. And in humility, we offer our thanks and praise.

A few summers ago, my partner and I sang our way through Glacier National Park in Montana. Surrounded by mountain peaks, a stream running alongside, wild flowers in bloom, birds winging overhead, animals large and small, we found that "Wow! Did you see that!" didn't suffice. At times, silence seemed insufficient as well. And so, overflowing with awe and gratitude, we sang. Not the songs we heard on the radio-no! We sang words from Kabbalat Shabbat that focus on the wonders of creation. They seemed to capture our overwhelming feelings: "How great are your works, God, how profound your design," Mah gadlu maasecha, Adonai, m'od amku machsh'votecha (Psalm 92:6). "Let us sing a song of Hallelujah, a song praising God," Hava nashirah shir hal'luyah (Kabbalat Shabbat).

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Ki Teizei

Deuteronomy 21:10–25:19

When you [an Israelite warrior] take the field against your enemies, and the Eternal your God delivers them into your power and you take some of them captive, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and you desire her and would take her to wife.... - Deuteronomy 21:10-11

D'var Torah By: Sue Levi Elwell Reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Parashat Ki Teitzei includes a rich and varied collection of directives that serve as a partial blueprint for behaviors and norms to create the emerging covenantal culture. As Professor Adele Berlin notes, “Issues pertaining to women are prominent in this parashah. . . . Much in the ideal society that Deuteronomy envisions revolves around the status of women . . .” (The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, ed. Tamara Cohn Eskenazi [New York: URJ Press, 2008], p. 1,165). The text presents Moses’s interpretation of God’s words concerning women’s position in the family and community, their sexuality, the treatment of their children, and their marital status. As we moderns read these texts, we are struck by the differences between contemporary and biblical assumptions and expectations about appropriate roles for men and women.

Let us examine some of those assumptions. The portion begins, “When you [an Israelite warrior] [go out to] take the field against your enemies. . . .” The editors of The Torah: A Modern Commentary clarify that “you” means “an Israelite warrior.” The masculine singular form of the verb indicates that warriors are assumed to be male.

The text continues, underscoring this assumption: “and your God delivers them into your power and you take some of them captive, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman and you desire her and would take her to wife . . .” (Deuteronomy 21:10–11). If we take a moment, we realize that the editor’s direction helps us to uncover additional assumptions as well: the enemies, like our Israelite warriors, are also male. The captives, while they may include some male warrior enemies, also include female enemies, probably noncombatants. A third assumption is that beauty is not culturally bound: a non-Israelite woman can be experienced as beautiful. And what does appreciation of beauty “lead to”? The assumption is that the perception of beauty leads to sexual desire, which in this case may also imply an assumption of control and power over the “beautiful woman.” There is an additional assumption here: Israelite warriors desire women. The text continues and the point of this section becomes clear: “You shall bring her into your house, and she shall trim her hair, pare her nails, and discard her captive’s garb. She shall spend a month’s time in your house lamenting her father and mother; after that you may come to her and thus become her husband, and she shall be your wife” (Deuteronomy 21:12–13, as translated in The Torah: A Women’s Commentary). We now discover the primary reason for this directive: to humanize this unnamed woman. It is as if the text says, “You may take a woman captive, but you must realize that she is, in some essential ways, a person. She, like you, has parents, and you must give her an opportunity to mourn—literally, to cry over—her separation from her parents.” Instructing her to trim her hair and nails and to change her clothing may be signs of mourning or, as Professor Berlin suggests, may be signals to mark the conclusion of a period of mourning. Alternatively, this process of grooming may make the captive more—or less—appealing to her captor (see Etz Hayim, ed. David L. Lieber [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2001], p. 1,112; Robert Alter, The Five Books of Moses: A Translation with Commentary [New York: Norton, 2004], pp. 981–82; and Richard Elliott Friedman, Commentary on the Torah [San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2003], p. 629). And here we discover yet another assumption: this is a young and unbetrothed woman. She is given time to mourn her parents, from whom she has been taken, not a husband. It is, of course, possible that a woman, through the process of her abduction, becomes available to the victor in a way that erases her personal history altogether, including an intended or actual husband or children.

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Shof'tim

Deuteronomy 16:18−21:9

D'var Torah By: Yael Splansky reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

"Fear Not"

Moses prepares his people for the battle awaiting them on the other side of the Jordan River, saying: "When you [an Israelite warrior] take the field against your enemies, and see horses and chariots-forces larger than yours-(lo tira) have no fear of them, for the Eternal your God, who brought you from the land of Egypt, is with you. Before you join battle, the priest shall come forward and address the troops. He shall say to them: ' Sh'ma, Yisrael! Hear, O Israel! You are about to join battle with your enemy. Let not your courage falter. (Al tir'u!) Do not be in fear, or in panic, or in dread of them' " (Deuteronomy 20:1-3).

Not long before, the Israelites received such a command-"Al tira-u"-at the shore of the Red Sea as Pharaoh's army of horses and chariots were advancing (Exodus 14:13). Not long after, Joshua will receive the same command-"al tira"-as he prepares his army for the battle of Jericho (Joshua 8:1). But this mitzvah of courage is not reserved only for the battlefield.

In moments of personal transition or trial, God commands individual men and women not to let their fears get the best of them. When Avram sets out into unchartered territory as the first to enter into a personal covenant with God, he is told, "al tira." God reassures him with promises of protection and progeny (Genesis 15:1-5). When Hagar was about to give in to despair, an angel of God calls out, Al tir'i, "Have no fear" and rescues her son Ishmael from a deadly thirst (Genesis 21:17). When Isaac sets out from the security of home and does not know where the road may lead, God says, "al tira," and reasserts the blessings promised to his father Abraham (Genesis 26:24). When the elderly Jacob prepares for his journey down to Pharaoh's palace to be reunited with his son Joseph after twenty years of separation, God encourages him, al tira, "fear not" (Genesis 46:3). In every generation-from Ruth to David to Daniel-so many of our biblical ancestors heard these words just when they needed them most. Just when they felt most vulnerable, most alone, so many of our prophets heard and delivered God's message of hope: "Fear not, for I am with you. Do not be frightened, for I am your God" (Isaiah 41:10).

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Re'eh

Deuteronomy 11:26-16:17

Seeing Is Believing 

Parashat Re'eh calls our attention to our ability to choose the directions of our lives. 

By Rabbi Stephen Karol 

Parashah Overview God places both blessing and curse before the Israelites.

They are taught that blessing will come through the observance of God's laws (11:26–32).

Moses' third discourse includes laws about worship in a central place (12:1–28); injunctions against idolatry (12:29–13:19) and self-mutilation (14:1–2); dietary rules (14:3–21); and laws about tithes (14:22–25), debt remission (15:1–11), the release and treatment of Hebrew slaves (15:12–18), and firstlings (15:19–23).

Moses reviews the correct sacrifices to be offered during the Pilgrim Festivals--Passover, Sukkot, and Shavuot.

Focal Point See, this day I set before you blessing and curse: blessing, if you obey the commandments of Adonai your God that I enjoin upon you this day; and curse, if you do not obey the commandments of Adonai your God but turn away from the path that I enjoin upon you this day and follow other gods, whom you have not experienced. When Adonai your God brings you into the land that you are about to invade and occupy, you shall pronounce the blessing at Mount Gerizim and the curse at Mount Ebal. Both are on the other side of the Jordan, beyond the west road that is in the land of the Canaanites who dwell in the Arabah near Gilgal by the terebinths of Moreh. (Deuteronomy 11:26–30)

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Ekev

Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25

The Challenges Of Humility 

We should respond to our prosperity with recognition of the factors that lead to our success and with humility before God.

By Rabbi Paula L. Feldstein

The following article is reprinted with permission from the Union for Reform Judaism.
Parashah Overview
Moses tells the Israelites that if they follow God's laws, the nations who now dwell across the Jordan River will not harm them. (Deuteronomy 7:12–26)

Moses reminds the people of the virtues of keeping God's commandments. He also tells them that they will dispossess those who now live in the Land only because they are idolatrous, not because the Israelites are uncommonly virtuous. Thereupon, Moses reviews all of the trespasses of the Israelites against God. (Deuteronomy 8:1–10:11)

Moses says that the Land of Israel will overflow with milk and honey if the people obey God's commandments and teach them to their children. (Deuteronomy 10:12–11:25)

Focal Point
When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to Adonai your God for the good land that God has given you. Take care lest you forget Adonai your God and fail to keep God's commandments, rules, and laws, which I enjoin upon you today. When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold have increased, and everything you own has prospered, beware lest your heart grow haughty and you forget Adonai your God, who freed you from the land of Egypt, the house of bondage … and you say to yourselves, "My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me." (Deuteronomy 8:10–14; 8:17)

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Shabbat Nachamu: Va-Et'chanan

Deuteronomy 3:23–7:11 reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

Staying Hungry 

D'VAR TORAH BY: MELANIE ARON

You might think that religion would be most successful in societies where a particular religion is able to establish itself and maintain a monopoly, but history has shown that this is not the case. In free societies, competition among religious groups, such as we have in the United States, seems to lead to much higher levels of religious participation than we see in religious monopolies, for example, in many European countries where there is an established church. Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised. In sports and in business, being challenged is considered a necessary condition for success. Being too comfortable can cause a team or a business to lose its edge.

Explaining his team's failure, a coach explained: "What it is, is you've got a hungry team here in New Mexico and I've got a satisfied team in Texas Tech right now." Knight said," We've got to get back to being hungry" (Mark Smith, "Knight: Keep 'Em Hungry," Albuquerque Journal, December 31, 2009).

Similarly, a business journal article titled, "Keep 'Em Hungry and Other Strategies," claims that keeping your suppliers insecure takes them out of their comfort zone and encourages initiative. It quotes an executive who states that "if you take them [your vendors] out of that guaranteed revenue position . . . it encourages them to look for new opportunities," CIO: Business Technology Leadership, October 15, 2007, p. 48).

In this week's Torah portion, God seems concerned that coming into the Land and settling comfortably upon it will cause the Israelites to lose their edge, and that the resulting complacency will cause them to turn away from God. "When the Eternal your God brings you into the land that was sworn to your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to be assigned to you-great and flourishing cities that you did not build, houses full of all good things that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant-and you eat your fill, take heed that you do not forget the Eternal who freed you from the land of Egypt, the house of bondage" (Deuteronomy 6:10-12).

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D'varim

Deuteronomy 1:1−3:22 - reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Emergence of a Mosaic Voice

D'var Torah By: Jonathan Cohen

Among the Book of Deuteronomy's many distinctions, the emergence of a Mosaic voice conveying a personal, synoptic narration of events, struggles, successes, and failures renders this last Book of Torah especially compelling. As it progresses, Moses's character develops into that of a more complex, nuanced figure of a leader who must face his failings and limitations, and prepare for his final departure. The book opens with a review that explains the Israelites' long journey in the desert through the recollection of certain moments and dynamics, and offers a framework for a new iteration of the covenant. For example, as the first portion of this book, Parashat D'varim, unfolds, we recall the appointment of judges and leaders that we read about in Exodus 18. The focus of this passage (Deuteronomy 1:9-17) is Moses's interaction with the Israelites. Jethro's role in this innovation, which is prominent in Exodus, is omitted here, and other aspects of the Exodus account are altered.

Yet, most of this week's parashah is devoted to the military victories and defeats that account for the Israelites' situation and inform strategies for future campaigns. To introduce this sequence of battles, the Mosaic narrator evokes the episode of the scouts, or spies, who were sent to tour the Land of Israel, collect information, and share it upon their return. The report that appears in our parashah differs substantially from the longer account found in Numbers 13-14. A few salient variations are especially important.

To begin, in Deuteronomy Moses indicates that the decision to appoint and send the spies was made in response to the Israelites' demands (Deuteronomy 1:22), whereas in Numbers Moses sent the spies according to God's command (Numbers 13:1-3). Also, the mission of the spies is presented differently in the two accounts. The Numbers passage suggests that the spies were asked to collect information about geography, agriculture, demography, and fortifications, as well as to assess the strength of the local population (13:18-20). In contrast, the mission of the spies as the Israelites themselves define it in Deuteronomy is to identify invasion routes and create a list of targets to attack first. While the questions given the spies in Numbers could support a comprehensive evaluation on whether or not to attack the Land, the passage in Deuteronomy indicates a narrower mission that excludes any deliberation about possible military action, and simply addresses the best ways to carry it out.

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Matot-Masei

Numbers 30:2-36:13 - reprinted from ReformJudaism.org

The Tribes

Moses spoke to the heads of the Israelite tribes, saying: "This is what the Eternal has commanded: If a householder makes a vow to the Eternal or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips." - Numbers 30:2-3

Chazak, Chazak, V’nitchazeik

D'VAR TORAH BY: LISA EDWARDS

Here in the week of the Fourth of July, we come to the end of this year's reading of B'midbar with a double portion, Matot/Mas-ei. The fighting, rebellion, and violence that we've seen throughout B'midbar find echoes in the American Revolutionary War, already underway when the Declaration of Independence was adopted on July 4, 1776. The birth of a nation seldom happens without violence, even when one believes—as the Israelites believed, as the Early Americans believed—that God was on their side. In fact, more than a few Revolutionary War leaders compared their plight under King George to the plight of the Israelites when they were still slaves in Egypt.1

Last week as we read Parashat Pinchas, we took note of the way God and Moses were perhaps trying to move the people toward a more human rule of law, albeit based on God-given laws. The plans for the future without Moses do not include random violence or anarchy, despite the ongoing preparations for battles and wars as they get ready to enter the Promised Land. Especially among the Israelites themselves, the end of B'midbar brings two examples of the kind of reasoned discussion and strategic planning that Moses and God may have been training them for all along, and especially once the Israelites enter the Promised Land without Moses.

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Pinchas

Numbers 25:10−30:1

The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying, "Phinehas, son of Eleazar son of Aaron the priest, has turned back My wrath from the Israelites by displaying among them his passion for Me, so that I did not wipe out the Israelite people in My passion." - Numbers 25:10-11

• Evolving Justice
  By Lisa Edwards
  I was recently called to jury service in Los Angeles. As imperfect as this complicated, human system of law may be, the jury selection made me proud to be an American, especially as the judge instructed the potential jurors about the meaning of “presumed innocent.”

  At the beginning of jury selection, when the judge in the courtroom asked the thirty-four potentialjurors how many of us thought the defendant was probably guilty, a majority raised their hands. He told us this is a common answer and understandable, but explained that in the United States every judge, every jury, must learn to presume innocence. Of course, we can easily find reminders of the difficulty of presuming innocence—from Guantanamo Bay to political scandals to the halls of justice everywhere—especially when fear and anxiety play a role.
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Balak

NUMBERS 22:2−25:9

Balaam: A Case Study in True Prophecy

D'VAR TORAH BY: KRISTINE GARROWAY

This week's Torah portion centers on the story of Balak, King of Moab and Balaam, a foreign prophet. In Numbers 22:3 we learn that Israel had become numerous, which made the Midianites and Moabites nervous. Balak wished to wage war against Israel, but needed a "go" sign before engaging them. He sought out Baalam to curse the Israelites because he knew that whomever Baalam cursed would be cursed and whomever he blessed would be blessed (Numbers 22:6). Unfortunately, when Balak sent for Balaam, he did not get the favorable prophecy he wished for. Balaam wound up blessing, not cursing Israel, uttering the famous line: Ma tovu ohalecha Ya'akov, mishk'notechah Yisrael, "How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel" (Numbers 24:5).

Who is Balaam and why did Balak think he could-and would-curse Israel? These questions can be answered from a number of perspectives: Balaam's profession, extra-biblical sources, and finally, his actions.

Balaam: Job Title and Extra-Biblical Sources
The text describes Balaam's profession in a vague manner. He is a non-Israelite hailing from Trans-Jordan who curses and blesses people. Based on his interactions with God, we can assume he is a prophet. But this does not tell us much about him. Our next stop is the extra-biblical materials. From these we learn of a seer named Balaam, son of Beor, who prophesizes about the end of the world. The text in question hails from the plaster walls of a wayside shrine at Deir 'Alla, Jordan (ca. 840-760 BCE). It references knowledge gleaned from El and the Shaddai gods. These titles recall God's biblical epithets El, Elohim, and El-Shaddai. The Deir 'Alla text presents Balaam as a prophet who divined future events based on information gleaned in visions from the gods. While it is impossible to say with absolute certainty that the Deir 'Alla Balaam is the same as the biblical Balaam, his mode of operating, as will be discussed momentarily,is seemingly in accord with that of the biblical Balaam.

Balaam's Actions
We learn something about Balaam's methods of prophecy, that is, his actions, in response to each of Balak's requests (Numbers 22:11; 23:11; 23:27; 24:10-11). In each response, Balaam inquires of God after constructing altars. He does this at three different places: Bamoth-baal, (Numbers 22:41-23:9), Pisgah (Numbers 23:14-26), and Peor (Numbers 23:27-24:9). In Numbers 24:1 we learn an additional piece of information: Balaam had been seeking omens to make his predictions. What kind of omens did Balaam seek? The text is unclear, perhaps intentionally so. However, a brief tour of biblical prophecy demonstrates that omens were sought in many different ways.

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Chukat

Numbers 19:1−22:1

The Gift of Grief

D'var Torah By: Lisa Edwards

In an almost imperceptible yet seismic shift, this week’s Parshat Chukat jumps us a few decades ahead in the wilderness journey of the Israelites. Maybe we need a movie screen caption that reads, “thirty-eight years later.”

Perhaps the time shift is difficult to notice because not much else has changed. Early in the portion, seemingly from out of nowhere, we read: “Miriam died there and was buried there,” (Numbers 20:1). Although she was the sister of Moses and Aaron, and a leader herself in the Israelite community, no more detail is given of what happened when Miriam died. No cause of death is given, no age at death, no description of mourning. We don’t even know who buried her. “Died and buried” is all Miriam gets for her long years of service.

Or is it? The very next verse tells us “the community was without water” (20:2). This juxtaposition is to teach us, writes Rashi (France, eleventh century), that the Israelites “had water for the whole forty years from [Miriam’s] well on account of the merit of Miriam.” Abraham ibn Ezra (Spain, twelfth century) disagrees, noting an absence of water long before Miriam died (Exodus 17:1, for example).

Whatever the reason, it seems to be their thirst, rather than Miriam’s death, that brings the Israelites to whine and argue with Moses and Aaron. “Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place?” (Numbers 20:5). Poor Moses, Aaron, God, and us as well, we’ve heard all this before—almost forty years ago and from a different generation. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”1

Perhaps this is why Moses grows so angry, losing patience once more. And the same goes for God. When God tells Moses and his brother Aaron to take the rod and “order the rock to yield its water,” Moses does so in similar fashion to the way God instructed him decades before—he strikes the rock, but this time he does so twice, saying “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?” (Compare Numbers 20:6-12 to Exodus 17:5-6).

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Korach

Numbers 16:1−18:32

“He Stood between the Dead and the Living”

By: Lisa Edwards

In the middle of Parashat Korach comes a short story that I find to be one of the most moving in all of Torah. It arrives unexpectedly in the midst of yet another chilling story of rebellion. The parashah begins with more than 250 "Israelites, chieftains of the community, chosen in the assembly, men of repute," who, under the leadership of Korah, Dathan, Abiram, and On turn against Moses and Aaron, saying: "You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Eternal is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Eternal's congregation?" (Numbers 16:1-3).

In their accusation, the leaders of the rebellion might seem to echo God's own language at Mount Sinai, calling the Israelites "a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (goy kadosh)" (Exodus 19:6). Their logic, that when all are holy, none is above another, sounds right. But if the "rebels" merely echo God's earlier sentiment, why does their rebellion anger God so much that the earth opens up and swallows them?

Twentieth-century Jewish theologian Martin Buber1 explains God's remarks at Mount Sinai by calling our attention to the "if" clause: " If you will obey Me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession . . . you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation," (Exodus 19:5-6). Korah's error, teaches Buber, is in thinking that holiness is a given rather than a state that each of us must strive toward, working in partnership with God.

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Sh'lach L'cha

Numbers 13:1−15:41

“Because Freedom Can’t Protect Itself”

D'VAR TORAH BY: LISA EDWARDS

This year marks Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's twentieth anniversary on the United States Supreme Court. Justice Ginsburg likes to tell her version of a story that has many versions:

"What is the difference," she asks, "between a bookkeeper in New York's garment district and a U.S. Supreme Court Justice?" The answer: "One generation."

So much can change in a generation as we learn from this week's Torah portion, Sh'lach L'cha, in which God, fed up with the lack of faith shown by the Israelites, condemns a whole generation to die in the wilderness.

What was their crime? Moses, at God's behest, had sent twelve scouts into the Promised Land to see "what kind of country it is" (Numbers 13:18). Forty days later, ten of the twelve scouts came back with reports not only of the Land's plentiful milk, honey, and fruit, but also of fortified cities and powerful inhabitants so big that "we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them" (13:27-28, 33).

Their report brings the whole community to tears. And by the next day their fear elicits an odd request, as they shout at Moses and Aaron: "If only we might die in this wilderness! Why is the Eternal taking us to that land to fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be carried off" (14:2-3).

God is incensed. After all God has done for them, have they so little faith? Perhaps their own low self-esteem ("we looked like grasshoppers"), carried over to their trust in God as well. The midrash wonders if they were losing faith in themselves or in God. When the faint-hearted spies say, "We cannot attack that people, for it is stronger than we" (13:31), the Babylonian Talmud (Sotah 35a) and, later, Rashi, note a grammatical ambiguity-the last word of that verse, mimenu, can be read either as "than we" or as "than He." Are the ten scouts suggesting that the people in that country are stronger than He-than God? No wonder then that God devises a punishment to fit the crime: "I will do to you just as you have urged Me. In this very wilderness shall your carcasses drop. . . . [But] Your children . . . shall know the land that you have rejected. . . . You shall bear your punishment for forty years, corresponding to the number of days-forty days-that you scouted the land: a year for each day" (14:28-34). God holds the adults accountable, but the children, too young to have known slavery, will live to enter the Land.

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B'haalot'cha

Numbers 8:1−12:16

By Lisa Edwards

Oy! There's a lot of whining in this week's Torah portion, B'haalot'cha. It has such a promising beginning-the training and blessing of the Levites for their special role among the people Israel, including the lighting of the golden seven-branched menorah; the poetic and comforting description of the cloud by day and fire by night that will signal when to make camp, and when to break camp and journey on; and the silver trumpets sounding to gather the people and God together in bad times and in good-"an institution for all time throughout the ages" (Numbers 10:8).

What happened? Why all the complaining? (Not that complaining is new to the Israelites.)

Some of the complaining proves legitimate. God appreciates it when some of the men, unable to celebrate the Passover sacrifice at its proper time, ask for another opportunity to do so. If the reason for delay is legitimate, says God, then offer it a month later on the same day of the month (9:6-13)-and the idea of Pesach Sheini is born, a second Pesach, this one, importantly, not imposed by God, but desired and requested by the people.

In this parashah the Israelites, at God's instruction, take their leave of Mount Sinai: "They marched from the mountain of God a distance of three days" (10:33). The commentator Rashbam (twelfth century, the grandson of the more-famous commentator Rashi) theorizes that the cause of the Israelites' complaining was the unexpected difficulty of the three-day journey.1 Given all the organizing beforehand, and the presence of the cloud and Moses to guide them, they were expecting an easier time of it.

It's such a wary time for God, for Moses, and for the Israelites. They want their bonds to deepen; they want all that comes next to go well. Yet they barely seem to understand one another. Some commentators suggest the Israelites ran from the mountain, eager to get away lest God give them still more laws to follow, "like a child running from school," says Ramban (Nachmanides, thirteenth century) leading him to wonder if the words, "they marched from the mountain of God," suggest a spiritual distancing in addition to a physical one (10:33).

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