Parsha Tazria/HaChodesh - March 29, 2014

Parsha Tazria/HaChodesh

27 Adar II/March 29

By: Michal Kohane

For those of us who arrive at shul when musaf already started (writer often included J) it’s easy to miss the fact that this Shabbat is the last of four special shabbatot: the four Shabbatot around Purim and before the new month of Nisan. In each one another Torah scroll is taken out and a special section read. What are the four, and what’s special about them?

Shabbat Shkalim usually comes around the end of the month of Shvat and definitely before Purim. We read from Exodus 30:11 about the contribution of half a shekel that each Jew had to bring. Why half a shekel and not one whole shekel, aquarter or one penny? So that each one of us remembers that while we are a “whole”, we’re also still only a half without another. There is also a midrash about the specific word machatzit – מחצית  = half. This word has the letter tzadi in the middle for the tzadik, the righteous person, and for tzedaka, righteous giving. The one close to the (letter) tzadi is chai (חי), alive, while the one further removed is met (מת), dead. The connection is Haman’s suggestion to king Achashverosh to give him money for killing the Jews, and a reminder to us to give tzedaka and push away the Haman-amalek forces in our lives.

The Shabbat before Purim is called Zachor and we honor it by reading a section from Deuteronomy 25:17: “remember  that which Amalek did to you on the way, when you left Egypt”… it’s an interesting thing, to remember something in order to forget it…? but if you think about it some more, there is really no other way. Forgetting is not the same as erasing from memory, and the latter is (must be!) a conscious effort. In Gimatria (numerical value of Hebrew letters), Amalek = safek (doubt) = zachor (remembers). In a way, it’s like Newton’s Law of motion: A force will continue in constant uniform motion until an opposite force of equal or greater magnitude acts upon it. The sages teach us that the greatest joy is letting go of doubt, and that takes work. Amalek sneaks behind on the weak. It does that to our mind too. But we also have the power to stop it through Zachor.

The next Shabbat is Para and our extra reading is from Numbers (19:1) about the Red Heifer. The Red Heifer is a chok, a mitzvah that isn’t readily understandable, and we  are called to fulfill even if we don’t “get it. But, we can have some insights. This mitzvah has to do with purifying people from their tum’at met, their “spiritual impurity”, a state that happens due to coming in contact with a dead person[i]. The Gemara says that evil people even while physically alive are called “dead”; Kabala says that death is a “shutting off of the lights”. If a person behaves in an evil manner, he is like dead. Some say the Hebrew word “rasha” (evil person) is an acronym for ratzon shel atzmo – his own will, namely egotistic. The reminder of the Red Heifer is to remove the evil inclinations, to “purify” ourselves from our selfishness, to be attentive to another, to be ready.

The last Shabbat of the four is today, Shabbat Hachodesh, the Shabbat of the month, and on it we read from Exodus 12:1, the commandment to mark the new month. Awareness of time is perhaps the most critical element in our journey. We might think we have “forever”; we might think we can delay things to a tomorrow; alternatively, we might think time has passed already. Being connected to the flow of time, allows us an opportunity to start anew, leaving our private and general Mitzrayim, place of Narrow Straights (Egypt) behind. The One who gave us all our abilities to share, do good and fight evil, also gave us time to do so. Happy journey & Shabbat shalom!

Michal’s blog can be found at www.miko284.com

---

[i] “spiritual impurity” which isn’t a good translation to tum’a but in the absence of a better one, we’ll take it for now

Parsha Tzav - March 15, 2014

13 Adar II / March 15

By: Barry Waldman 

Parsha: Tzav 

SHABBAT ZACHOR 5774 

In Memory of Yocheved Leba Dardik 

ZEH L’UMAT ZEH 

Based on the writings and shiurim of Rav Matis Weinberg: www.thelivingtree.org 

“In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider; G-d hath set one thing against the other (zeh l’umat zeh)” - Koheleth 7:14 

This Shabbat Zachor finds itself at the nexus of three parshiot that frame our eternal war with Amalek. Beshalach introduces Amalek, and identifies who we’re fighting against; Ki Tetzei, the parsha from which the pasuk of Zachor is taken, defines what we’re fighting for; and today’s parsha, Tzav, describes the nature of the battle itself.

Parshat Beshalach opens with a quick ascent to great heights with the miracle of the Sea, in which the people declare their unending faith in Hashem and Moshe. But from there begins a rapid descent into complaints and worries about desert life, culminating in the question, “Is G-d amongst us or not?” The turnabout seems inexplicable, unless one considers that miracles themselves cause faith and doubt to go hand in hand. As Rav Matis Weinberg explains:

Miracles are not only insufficient rationale for belief, they are actually inimical to the significance of belief. Miracles imply a world in which G-d must assert His presence – and if miracle is proof of the presence of G-d, then tragedy is proof of the eclipse of G-d. (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

The very next pasuk that follows “Is G-d amongst us or not?” reads, “And then came Amalek…” It is doubt that brings on Amalek, and doubt that becomes Amalek’s chief weapon. Amalek did not attack Yisrael to acquire spoils or defend territory. It attacked to show the world that, Divine Providence notwithstanding, Yisrael was vulnerable. Amalek’s main objective, however, was to prompt Yisrael to doubt itself and the specialness of its relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Amalek are enemies of belief, all right. But it is not philosophical belief that they battle – it is the care and significance implicit in belief. Their skepticism and doubt is only as regards the meaning of belief, not its veracity…This battle against significance is why Amalek’s weapon of choice is cynicism – nothing more effectively dampens care, deflates significance, and cheapens relationship. (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

Beshalach, then, defines our enemy – the peddlers of cynicism and doubt, those who seek to demean us in the following sense: “demeaning by being anti-meaning, through the very detachment and indifference it presupposes.” (FrameWorks, Beshalach)

Parshat Ki Tetzei ends with the injunction to remember Amalek who attacked us,

You shall remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt (Devarim 25:17)

but opens with a war in which Israelite soldiers, as the protagonists, capture a yefas to’ar (beautiful woman).

If you go out to war against your enemies, and Hashem, your G-d, will deliver him into your hands, and you take his captives, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman (yefas to’ar) and you desire her, you may take [her] for yourself as a wife. (Devarim 21:10-11)

According to the Zohar Chadash, this “beautiful woman” is a “beautiful soul.” As the Ohr HaChayim elaborates:

The soldier in question is not infatuated with the body of the woman but with something inside her, her holy soul which he was able to recognize. This explains why such a woman is permitted even if she is outwardly ugly… The reason the Torah describes it as yefas to’ar, (beautiful) is because this soul is intrinsically very beautiful indeed and it has only disheveled herself by means of the sins committed by the body it inhabits.

Rav Matis goes a step further:

The yefas to’ar is your own soul which has been captured and is living in a milieu that you sense is alien and you wish to free it. You find yourself in a war for it day after day. There is no way to win that war; there is only a way to fight that war. And in the fighting comes redemption, and discovery of the self. (Ki Tetzei 5768)

We can now understand why parsha Ki Tetzei is bookended by the battle for the yefas to’ar at the beginning, and the war against Amalek at the end; the only way we can defeat Amalek is by first capturing the soul of what it means to be ourselves and to be Yisrael.

Today’s parsha, Tzav, with the mizbeach as its centerpiece, depicts the “field of battle” upon which the war between Yisrael and Amalek is fought. The mizbeach is described by the Zohar as “a wolf” based on its position within the territory of Binyamin:

“Binyamin is a ze’ev yitraf (ravenous wolf); in the morning it devours its prey…” (Bereishis 49:27)

Further, “ze’ev yitraf,” a ravenous wolf – for the altar was in his portion, and the altar is a wolf. For if you say that Benjamin is a wolf, not so! Rather, the altar in his portion was a wolf, consuming flesh every day; and Benjamin would feed it since it was in his portion. It was as if he were sustaining and feeding this wolf! (Zohar 1:247b)

The mizbeach is the ultimate predator. The korbanot brought upon it are products of billions of years of competitive evolutionary pressures sustained by predator-prey relationships “red in tooth and claw,” resulting in species of increasing complexity, with the human being at its apex. The war between Yisrael and Amalek is merely an extension of this process, a continuation of the evolution in human consciousness.

Yisrael and Amalek are intertwined in a relationship of “zeh l’umat zeh” (one thing set against another). The Zohar views the concept of “zeh l’umat zeh” as the basis for the duality present within the universe:

The benefit of light comes only from darkness. What always enhances white? Black. For were it not for black, white could not be recognized…R. Yitzchak said, “This may be compared to sweet with bitter, for a person does not know the taste of sweet until he tastes bitter…this corresponds to what is written: Zeh l’umat zeh – One against the other G-d has set” (Zohar 3:48a)

Zeh l’umat zeh is also understood by Chazal to represent the struggle between forces of good and evil: the greater the evil, the greater the good that must be brought to overcome it. Therefore, as Amalek’s tactics in sowing doubt against Yisrael become more subtle, more cunning, more dangerous – Yisrael must respond with an increasingly discriminating and sharper understanding of itself and its purpose within Creation in order to survive:

There’s no question that what has been achieved by Yisrael is specifically because of the threat of Amalek in the deepest sense,…an outgrowth of greater and greater pressure of selecting what it means to be Yisrael… (Rav Matis: Tzav, 5771)

One might think there is a wide distance between good and evil with obvious distinctions between them. However, as the Midrash tells us, the separation can be very slight:

Zeh l’umat zeh” = Hell and the Garden of Eden. What is the distance between them? A handbreadth…The Rabbis say, “They are parallel so that they will gaze at one another.” (Koheleth Rabbah 7:22)

Amalekites have honed their ability to approximate the truth so closely, that theirs often stands nearly eye-to-eye with the truth of Yisrael. A “stare-down” ensues that is part and parcel of the predator-prey relationship:

Wolves and prey remain absolutely still while staring at each other… I think that what transpires in those
moments of staring is an exchange of information between predator and prey…I call this exchange the
conversation of death. (Barry Lopez, “Of Wolves and Men”)

How does Yisrael survive this contest? Only through the antithesis of doubt: Emunah. Emunah is loosely translated as “faith” or “belief.” But it does not mean belief in the existence of G-d (Amalek, too, believes that G-d exists). Emunah cannot be a function of intellect, because any “idea” is subject to doubt. In fact, the more profound the idea, the more second-guessing it engenders. (Therefore, the greatest Torah scholars are not the ones who have the most emunah, but who require the most emunah.)

The seat of emunah is not in the brain, the organ of intellect – but in the heart, the organ of responsiveness. Indeed, our relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu and the Torah He gave us through Moshe Rabbeinu is all about heart:

The most important element in relating to Torah and how one observes it is in the heart. The entire written Torah is bracketed between the letters of the word, “lev” – i.e. between the beis of Bereishis and the lamed in Yisrael at the end. (Rabbeinu Bachya)

The heart is the core (coeur) that provides clarity amidst the fog of doubt:

The issue is always to define the core – not to define the immediate – because the immediate is much too complex whenever it deals with anything that’s in the gray area. Much too complex for you to be given guidelines, or to know what to do unless you are sure of that core. And then – the things that speak to you, the things that are demanded of you – you’ll know them. (Rav Matis, Ki Tetzei 5768)

The only things we can really know, that truly speak to us, that we can absolutely trust, are affairs of the heart – experiences of love. Thus, the memory that stands as the “zeh l’umat zeh” against the remembrance of Amalek (“Zecher Amalek”) is that of the romance between G-d and Yisrael which began in the wilderness: “Zecharti lach chesed ne’urayich. ” - “I remember for you the lovingkindness of your youth, the love of your espousals, your following Me in the desert, a land not sown.” (Yirmiyahu 2:2).

We are G-d’s yefas to’ar. We are held captive in what sometimes feels like a grip from which we can’t escape, but which is actually the loving embrace of one long, grand Purim story that extends from the first moments of Creation to the coming of Mashiach. And just as occurred in Shushan, we will come to discover that nothing is without meaning. Every lie, deception, tragedy, and injustice we’ve suffered from personally and nationally throughout history will all have its place – and one day, they will be seen to be zeh l’umat zeh against a truth that will reveal itself with unimaginable joy and splendor:

No choreographer, no architect, engineer, or painter could plan more thoroughly and subtly. Every action and every scene has its purpose. And the less power one has, the closer he is to the great waves that sweep through all things, patiently preparing them for the approach of a future signified not by simple human equity (a child could think of that), but by luminous and surprising connections that we have not imagined, by illustrations terrifying and benevolent – a golden age that will show not what we wish, but some bare awkward truth upon which rests everything that ever was and everything that ever will be. There is justice, Peter Lake, but it cannot be had without mystery. (Mark Helprin, “Winter’s Tale”)

Parsha Vayikra - March 8, 2014

6 Adar II / March 8

By: Neska 

Vayikra 

With gratitude to Hashem on Kira Hannah Newman's 46th birthday.

It has been an ambition of mine to try to relate personally (and communally) to the parshiyot on the 'offerings - sacrifices.' I cannot, hard as I try, put myself into those times. I cannot imagine the long lines waiting to be next, standing with whatever I brought. I cannot imagine the scene. So, Neska, I said to myself: stop imagining and refocus.

So I began noticing a refrain that happens after each offering..."a sweet aroma to Hashem". Now what can that mean? This refrain happens after all offerings except when leavened flour and fruit honey are added to the offerings...a note I read suggested that the leavening slowed down the process and that the fruit honey also slowed down the process, meaning for me, that nothing was to deter the sweet aroma reaching Hashem and that the aroma itself was the sweetness.

And then I began thinking wait! Hashem doesn't need the smell of a cow or lamb or chicken or flour to know that we have uplifted something. That's not the sweet aroma. Rather, for me, what gives Hashem pleasure is Sensing the sweet aroma that we humans give off when we are taking the offerings to Hashem. I can now translate that into my own life...when I am grateful I know my body undergoes a different sense than when I have missed the mark which gives off a different sense than when I am trying to 'obey' a mitzva which gives off a differense sense when I am in conversation with Hashem. And all of these 'senses', I believe, are sweet aromas that are intricately woven into the fabric of my Hashem.

Shabbat Shalom from snowy Virginia....

Parsha Pekudai - March 1, 2014

29 Adar I / March 1

By: Shelley Zak 

Parsha Pekudai 

“Eleh Pikudai HaMishkan . . . ”—“these are the listings/accounts of the Mishkan . . . “opens this week’s Parshah. Oddly, many of the details enumerated here are merely a repetition of those we already learned in Parshat TeTzaveh. We know that there is no redundancy in the Torah so what can we glean from the emphasis on these details? I would like to focus on just one aspect and how it teaches us about leadership, particularly in this time of transition for our community.

The clothes of the Cohen Gadol, the “Bigdai Cohanim”, are described beginning in verse 39:1. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch discusses the significance of clothing, focusing on the linguistic relationship between the roots “Bet-Gimmel-Daled”, “beged”—“clothing”, and the root from this parsha’s moniker “Pay-Koof-Daled”, which in addition to meaning “containing” or “listing” can also mean, in its verb form, “to invest with purpose or responsibility”. By connecting these two roots, R. Hirsch emphasizes that “the looks make the man”: clothing not only distinguishes the individual superficially (“oh, those colors emphasize her eyes”, “that tie displays a sense of humor and whimsy”) but actually invests the wearer with symbols of his or her character or his or her office. Given that, what can we learn from some of the items in the Cohen Gadol’s garments? First, in the earlier parsha in verse 28:3, R. Hirsch references commentary that the clothing of the Cohen Gadol must be made by the nation, presaging here that these garments are not just decorative, there is an inner meaning to them such that they must be made by and for the “kahal”, they cannot be outsourced. In verse 39:6, the Shoham Stones are mentioned. These are two stones upon which the names of the Tribes of Israel are written. (For those of you who love roots and wordplay, R. Hirsch relates “shoham” to “shem” and thus these stones to “name”—I can already hear the groans!) The significance of these stones is not their value but their outer appearance which provides a listing of all the people. These stones are then placed on the garment worn on the Cohen Gadol’s shoulders, the efod. The next set of stones are described by type of stone; these are the twelve different stones placed into the breastplate worn by the Cohen Gadol. Thus, the Cohen Gadol has a written list of the tribes of Israel on his shoulders and a tribe-by-tribe delineation on his chest. He is enveloped by the people whom he is representing through wearing garments that are made by them and owned by them. He literally holds B’nei Yisrael on his shoulders. What does this symbolism tell us about leadership? It emphasizes that a great leader leads not only by virtue of who he or she is as an individual but also through being an integral part of the community, with an understanding of the members in their distinctness and the community as a whole. We have been a congregation blessed with leadership that leads from among us, that is intimately involved in this community and is beloved as both a member and leader. May this model of leadership serve as an inspiration to those who will continue to guide Congregation Beth Jacob in the future.

Shabbat Shalom,

Shelley Zak

Parsha Vayakhel - February 22, 2014

22 Adar I / February 22

By: Michal Kohane 

Disconnecting to Connect and, This & That & Acquiring Wisdom: 

3 thoughts on Vayakhel 

Finally, the biggest miracle of the exodus from Egypt in this week’s Torah portion. Not the Exodus and not the Splitting of the Sea; not the Manna raining from the Heavens and not even the Giving of the Torah. Why would any of those be miracles? They were all made by G-d, and by definition, He can do anything. The real miracle is when we do something special, something out of the ordinary, and here it comes, almost lost, almost unnoticeable within all the details, but after two and a half Torah portions with instructions how to build the Mishkan, we’re about to actually begin the project. And the miracle? The Children of Israel are listening! They are following directions! Amazing. And now, boring or not, we’re going to hear about it all over again, except now it’s not going to be as a commandment ut as action.

Moses gathers all the people in order to start constructions: “And Moses assembled all the congregation of the children of Israel, and said unto them: 'These are the words which Hashem has commanded, that you should do them” (Exodus 35:1)... we can fill the excitement. Everyone is approaching, hammers and other tools in hand, all ready, finally! Then Moses continues: “Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a Sabbath of solemn rest to Hashem”… Wait, aren’t we building? What is Shabbat doing here??

Shabbat is mentioned a few times throughout the Torah. It says we should “keep it”, “remember it” but how do we know exactly what to do, what not to do? Many of the rules regarding Shabbat are deduced from this section. Moses, by telling the people to work 6 days and dedicate Shabbat as a holy day to Hashem davka here, places Shabbat before all Mishkan related work. That means that anything to do with the construction of the Mishkan is not allowed on Shabbat, giving us the list of 39 melachot, or creative activities.

But there is another way to understand this parasha’s opening: Moshe assembled everybody to build the dwelling place for G-d, and so – this is what they are doing. Shabbat is not a deviation from the topic but part of it. As Rabbi Joshua Heschel said, Shabbat is in time what the Mishkan is in space. In times that we don’t have the physical structure, the wooden planks, colored cloths and golden layered ark, we will still have a “space for G-d” in our midst. Back in Exodus 25:9, we were told: “And let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them”. The Mishkan, tells us Moses here, is one way to build G-d a sanctuary, a physical way. Another way is to have Shabbat. Like the Mishkan, Shabbat is a place to enter where we can disconnect from the daily routine and connect back to G-d.

This & That: Vayakhel 2:

“Dy Vehoter” is a common expression in modern Hebrew. It means – there is plenty, more than enough. I‘ve never given much thought to its origin or deeper meaning, until one day, I found it in this week’s Torah portion: “For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to make it, and too much” (Exodus 36:7). Kudos to Mechon-Mamre for excellent translation, and for resisting the temptation to make sense out a verse which doesnt. Because, how can there be “sufficient stuff” and “too much (stuff)” all at once?

“Enough” – means, it’s just right, while “too much” means a surplus, so which way is it?

This happens in many other Jewish issues. When asked which way is it, this or that, the answer is often, Yes, namely, both, but only when they appear together. Neither option alone would be correct, and in some case, accepting only half of it might be even heretic. Instead, we’re asked to hold on to two seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time.

Examples?

Early on, we’re taught that humans are made in G-d’s image and from dust. Which way is it? Yes. Abraham is given the blessing to be like the stars in the heaven and the sand of the sea. Which way is it? Yes. And this week, “enough” and “too much”. Which way is it? You guessed it. Yes.

Let’s examine what each adds to our understanding of our place in the world, for that is the Torah’s purpose to begin with. So, if we say (in this case, the material brought for the construction of the Tabernacle), we have enough, “enough” means the amount we have is just right. That means, that without the gift of any one of us, the Tabernacle will be lacking. Wow. That can be a source of pride, and even power: see, without me, this could not be done! Oohh! I’m so great! Everything hinges on me!!

Comes the other half of the verse to balance things out: Sorry, there is too much. Too much? What does it mean “too much”? Does that mean that this project could have been done without me?? Oohh, what a disappointment! I might not be needed!

These are the two conflicting messages we have to hold simultaneously: Yes, you’re needed; No, don’t let that get to you. Yes, you’re one and only; No, don’t think you’re more important than someone else.

Acquiring Wisdom: Vayakhel 3

How does one become wise? Read book, google info, listen to elders… But the Torah tells something interesting about acquiring wisdom: “And Moses called Bezalel and Oholiab, and every wise-hearted man, in whose heart Hashem had put wisdom, even every one whose heart stirred him up to come unto the work to do it” (Exodus 36:2). This theme repeats again and again in these sections, the idea that G-d gives wisdom to those who have wisdom. Well, that does not seem fair! Shouldn’t He give wisdom to those who don’t have it?? How do you get wisdom if you’re already supposed to have it?

One of the first verses in the morning prayer is: “resheet chochma – yir’at Hashem” – “the beginning of wisdom is (to be in) awe of G-d”(Psalms 111:10). This is then juxtaposed with another idea that “everything is in the hands of Heavens except the awe of Heavens (G-d)” (Babylonian Talmud, Brachot 33:3). From that we learn, that there is a foundation to wisdom which is up to us. We are like a gardener that needs to till the ground before sowing. Some work is on us before we can expect the gift of wisdom. Then we can hope for more.

Parsha Ki Tisa - February 15, 2014

15 Adar I / February 15

By: Marshall Schwartz

Parashat Ki Tisa 

Our parsha this week seems to be of two minds about exactly what Aharon did in creating the Golden Calf. First, in Ex. 32:1-4, we have a description of the act, in progress – if we can trust any of the common translation (spoiler alert: we can't):

The people saw that Moshe had delayed in descending the mountain, and the people gathered around Aharon and said to him, “Rise up! Make for us gods that will go before us, for  this man Moshe who brought us up from the land of Egypt – we do not know what became of  him!” Aharon said to them, “Remove the rings of gold that are in the ears of your wives, sons and daughters, and bring them to me.” The entire people removed the gold rings that were in their ears, and brought them to Aharon. He took it from their hands and bound it up in a cloth, and fashioned it into a molten calf. And they said, “These are your gods, O Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt.

The above translation is from the Artscroll Chumash, with a couple of minor alterations. Now compare this first with what occurs after Moses comes down from Mt. Sinai and smashes the first set of tablets out of anger at what he sees before him (Ex. 32:21-24):

Moshe said to Aharon, “What did this people do to you that you brought a grievous sin on it?” 22Aharon said, “Let not my master's anger flare up. You know the people is disposed  toward evil. 23They said to me, 'Make us a god that will go before us, for this man Moshe who  brought us up from the land of Egypt – we do not know what became of him.' 24So I said to  them, 'Who has gold?' They removed it and gave it to me. I threw it in the fire, and this calf emerged.”

First we are told that the egel hazhav was “bound in a cloth, and fashioned... into a molten calf.” Later in the same chapter, Aharon avers that the calf sprang out of the fire sui generis, without his participation. This discrepancy is fertile ground for commentators, and I will discuss some of their views (in particular one found in Midrash Rabbah for Shemot) later. However, this translation has some questionable interpretations – and Artscroll is hardly alone in these idiosyncracies. First, here are the translations of verses 1 and 4, this time from the Etz Hayim chumash:

When the people saw that Moshe was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aharon and said to him, “Come, make us a god who shall go before us, because that man Moshe, who brought us from the land of Egypt – we do not know what has happened to him.” ...This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt.”

So the first question is: Did Moshe simply take a long time in descending (Etz Hayim), not purposely, or did he deliberately delay his return (Artscroll)? The Hebrew reads, “ki vosheish Moshe laredet min ha-har.” While the shoresh for boshesh, bet-vav-shin, usually means shame, when it appears in the unusual pilel binyan, it means to delay – possibly out of shame. This variant appears in Gesenius (Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon), Brown-Driver-Briggs (Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, which builds on Gesenius's work), and Klein (A Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the Hebrew Language). So we seem to have a definitive linguistic answer here: Moshe did in fact deliberately delay his descent, according to our text. And I will leave you with another question: Why?

We also have the more serious divergence in verse four: Did Aharon bind the egel in a cloth and “fashioned it into a molten calf,” or did he ”cast [it] in a mold, and made it into a molten calf”? Neither is correct, according to the original Hebrew. The Hebrew phrase, in Ex. 32:4, reads, “Vayikah mi-yadam, vayatsar oto ba-heret.” Neither a cloth nor a mold appear here. The key word, of course, is heret, het-reish-tet. Our three linguistic resources all declare that in Biblical Hebrew, this word meant “engraving tool” or “stylus”. There are, in fact, humashim which do get this translation correct: The venerable Hertz Humash gives a very straightforward version of verse 4, “And he received it at their hand, and fashioned it with a graving tool, and made it a molten calf...” [Note: In modern Hebrew, heret also means repentance, regret, or remorse. While it is sometimes clear how an old word acquires a new meaning, that does not seem to be true in this instance.]

So why are these two modern translations – one representing the most commonly-used text in Orthodox synagogues, the other the most commonly-used text in Conservative synagogues, carefully avoid the literal meaning of the Hebrew text? I believe it is out of respect for Aharon, based on the belief that Aharon could never have brought himself to perform such a blasphemous act, especially less than six weeks after the theophany at Sinai. This is an ancient tradition, traceable as far back as the Mishna:

The story of Reuben is read but not explained; the episode of Tamar is read and interpreted; the first story of the Calf is read and translated, and the second account is read but not interpreted... (Mishna Megillah 4:10)

A word of explanation: In Mishnaic times, when the Torah was read in public, the ba'al koreh would stop after every verse, and a translator, or meturgeman in Aramaic, would then explain the Hebrew to the congregation. Thus, the listeners (unless they were fluent in Hebrew) were to be kept in the dark about Aaron's apparently self-serving story of throwing the gold into fire and seeing a molten calf emerge. That is why, for example, Rashi suggests that heret means scarf or kerchief. Sforno writes that Aharon's phrasing implies that other individuals actually formed the calf:

And there came out this calf. Without my [overt] act, and they did not wait for me to do as they had said [requested]; for indeed, when it says, “And make it into a molten calf”, it does not refer to Aharon but it means whosoever did make it. … [T]hey made the calf from which Aharon had done his work: the fashioning and casting the gold into the fire.

Yet another common explanation derives from Midrash, specifically Shemot Rabbah (albeit from a comment on verse 37:2):

The [sages] said: When Moshe descended from Sinai and beheld Israel engaged in that unspeakable act, he looked at Aharon, who was beating [the calf] with a hammer. The intention of Aharon was really to restrain the people until Moshe came down, but Moshe though that Aharon was a partner in their crime and he was incensed against him. Whereupon Hashem said to Moshe: “I know that Aharon's intentions were quite good. It can be compared to the prince whose mind became unbalanced, and who took a digging-tool to undermine his father's house. His tutor said to him, “Do not weary yourself; give it to me and I will undermine it.” When the king beheld this, he said: “I know thy good intention.” As I live, none shall rule over my palace save thee. Similarly, when Israel said to Aharon, “Rise up, make us a god”, he replied, “Break off the golden rings.” He further said to them, “Since I am a priest, let me make it and I will offer up sacrifices before it,” his sole idea being to restrain them until Moshe came down.

Typical of many midrashim, this ancient tale provides a hermeneutical explanation which resolves the apparent discord between two Biblical verses. Aharon was only superficially complying with the people's urgent request; in reality, according to the Midrash, he was using delaying tactics to keep them from blasphemy. Another problem (re)solved.

Parsha Tetzaveh - February 8, 2014

8 Adar I / February 8

By: Jen Blumenfeld 

Parashat Tetzaveh 

 Eighteen years ago I stood in front of my family, friends and community, and declared: “My Torah portion is about clothes.” Then I proceeded to talk about myself. On the Chai anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah I’d like to offer a bit more depth to Parsha Tetzaveh.

 In a careful reading of the elements of the Bigdei Kahuna, the priestly robes, you see that Hashem commands that the holy garments for Aaron and his sons be made from gold, turquoise wool, purple wool, scarlet wool and linen (Shemot 28:4-5.)

Sha’atnez is cloth containing both wool and linen, and we are directly prohibited from wearing sha’atnez in Devarim 22:11 and Vayikra 19:19. So why are the Kohanim not only allowed but commanded to wear sha’atnez while performing their priestly rituals?

There are many ideas offered about why this is. For example Tzitzit are also allowed to be made of sha’atnez. Since the mitzvah of tzitzit directly follows the mitzvah of sha’atnez some say that this shows that a
positive commandment can override a negative commandment.

Additionally, the Gemora prohibits wearing sha’atnez if one derives physical pleasure or benefit from it. The Rashba states that we don’t consider any benefit that one receives during the fulfillment of a mitzvah. Thus the Kohanim and tzitzis wearers everywhere are not deriving pleasure or benefit, and sha’atnez doesn’t apply.

Others claim that since sha’atnez is allowed in the Bigdei Kahuna and Tzitzit, that it is only prohibited in regular garments, but allowed in these holy garments because they are inherently kosher.

The Midrash suggests that the reason stems from the story of Kayin and Hevel in Bereshit 4:3-4. Kayin brought Hashem an offering of flax (the source of linen) and Havel brought a sheep (wool). The incident resulted in Kayin killing Hevel, and it was decreed that the two substances never mix again.

The mitzvah of sha’atnez is a chok, a law whose logic is not evident. It is clear that as a human we cannot fully understand the ways of Hashem. Good things happen to bad people just as bad things happen to good people and we wonder why. As science progresses and we learn more about the past and predict our future we find reassurance in the known. In this parsha full of minutia about the priestly garments, I am reminded that we don’t understand why everything is, maybe we never will, and that that is ok.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parsha Truma - February 1, 2014

1 Adar I / February 1 

By: Michal Kohane 

Parashat Truma

There is only one chapter that deals with the creation of the whole world and four (4) different Torah portions that deal with various aspects of the building of the Mishkan, a mobile synagogue-tent which could be taken apart as needed, folded, hoisted on arts and shlepped along the journey! Why? Maybe because the world’s creation is not our (direct) business, or maybe because we can see, touch, feel and explore the world around us and get enough info to figure it out (or at least, figure out enough for our survival), but what do we know about developing and maintaining a relationship with G-d? What do we know about bringing G-d’s presence into our own, daily life? The Torah, so stingy in words, doesn’t give us what we don’t need. If it’s giving us that much information about the Mishkan, we can assume it is what we are missing.

Did you ever try to explain a blueprint in words? This is what is happening this week, and it is fascinating how many details are included. But, why not just tell the people – make a special place for G-d? Why spend so much time on the exact measurements and material-list?

Well, in a good Jewish fashion, we can answer this question with a question, and ask back, why not? What would happen if we didn’t get any instructions; if we just got a general directive to build a “house for Hashem”?

We know how hard it is to build a shul; what if this was a regional shul? A state shul? What if it was the one and only place for all the Jewish people? Right. Chances are that while we might be saving on the number of Torah portions, we would end up fighting and arguing to no end, each pushing for their “creative” and “right” ideas. It should be fancy; it should be simple; it should be made of all gold; it should be made of wood… Chances are it would not be a house of G-d, but a house of quarrel and big egos.

The Torah, sadly and wisely, doesn’t trust us to get it “right”. Further: it reminds us that in this case, the highest calling, the greatest “right idea”, is not to do “our thing”, but rather, to be able to follow instructions. This unique paradox repeats again and again: freedom lies within the structure and the discipline, not outside. Building the Mishkan, the dwelling place of Hashem, is no different.

In this unique edifice everything is symbolic and meaningful. Why this color? Why wood here? Why gold there? My favorite is the instruction regarding the ark which has two poles that must not be removed:

 .בְּ ט ַבְּ ע ֹת,ַהָָאר ֹן,ַיִהְּ יּו,ַה ב דִ ים:ַַֹלאַיָסֻ רּו,ַמִ מֶּּנּו

The staves shall be in the rings of the ark; they shall not be taken from it (Exodus 25:15).

Why?

The two poles are there in order for us to be able to carry the ark. This was a practical matter, but it is also a spiritual one. This has been especially true in recent decades, when many of us who did not grow up in observant homes came back to find her, still where she was left. We were able to dust the handles, pick up the poles, and bring her along. The poles in the ark are a reminder that the Torah is not stuck in any place or time. Rather, the Torah is there for us, waiting patiently until we come back to carry her with us, always portable, ready to journey.

More on the symbolism of Mishkan related items, and especially the high priest’s clothings, in next week’s Chamin & Chavruta. See you then! Shabbat Shalom.

Michal’s Torah words and more can be read on her blog: www.miko284.com

Parsha Mishpatim - January 25, 2014

Parsha: Mishpatim 

Shevat 24/ January 25 

By: Rabbi Akiva Naiman 

Mitzvot Should be like Cholent

 Shabbat Shalom!

Parshat Mishpatim starts off with a very interesting verse: “And these are the laws that you shall place before them”

Rashi on this pasuk brings a very interesting medrash to explain it (Mechilta and Eruvin 54b). What does this mean that the laws should be “placed before them”? It should be just like a meal is set out for a meal – ready for eating. I.e. when you are serving cholent for Shabbat lunch, you don’t put out raw potatoes, meat, and barley! You have it all ready and prepared before-hand so they can dive right in and enjoy a tasty lunch!

So too with the mitzvot Hashem tell Moshe Rabeinu – don’t just teach it to them by rote till they have it memorized, giving them the ‘bare ingredients’. Rather Mitzvot should have taste, reason! (Ta’am in Hebrew means both ‘taste’ and ‘reason’.) Hashem is explaining to Moshe (and to us) the way to teach over the Torah to the next generation is yes, by explaining the motions and nuances of the laws – but teaching as well the REASON behind the mitzvoth, to make it an enjoyable experience as well.

When I lived in Jerusalem I used to go to a weekly Parsha class from Rabbi Avraham Feuer (author of the Artscoll Tehillim, and the Artscroll Igeret HaRamban). Unfortunately, I cannot remember the sefer we learnt, but it was a Rabbi from Europe who was murdered in the Holocaust. He has an interesting take which is as follows: You shall place these laws before them ready to go – meaning placed in the right order. I’ll explain with an example: We have a positive commandment of oneg Shabbat – taking delight in Shabbat (Isaiah 58:13). Oneg in Hebrew is spelled . However, if you place the letters in a different order, it becomes the words , something that is repulsive. Mitvot, without them being taught well, with the WAY to do them as well as their MEANING (ta’am), with them being placed in front of us in their beautiful entirety – can indeed become repulsive, something that I do not want and see no purpose bringing into my life.

We see this as well in the prayer “yismichu” that we all say in the musaf amidah : “They shall rejoice in your Kingship. [Who shall rejoice? Those who] observe the Shabbat and call it Oneg”. Because as we have explained – Shabbat (as one example of the all the mitzvoth), with all of its’laws can either become something repulsive and something I don’t want in my life – or if explained to us right can be something that is beautiful and enriching. That is why Hashem implores of Moshe at the outset of teaching the 613 mitzvot – do this right, or it won’t work at all.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Akiva Naiman

Parsha Beshalach - January 11, 2014

Parsha: Beshalach 

Shevat 10/ January 11 

By: Dan Cohen 

Who was Miriam and what can she teach us here in Oakland? 

(This drash is dedicated to everyone who ever volunteered their time, effort, and wisdom at Beth Jacob, OHDS, or in any other community institution)

The big-ticket item from the Parsha, memorialized in our imagination, our stories, and in our movies is the splitting of the Red Sea and the movement of the Jewish people to their physical freedom. This epic incident has inspired commentators and artists alike.

However, this Parsha also re-introduces Miriam, sister of Aaron and Moses.

Miriam often gets a starring role at our Passover Seder. And in the interest of being a father who is worthy of two smart and dazzling daughters, I thought I would take a moment to focus on who she was and some lessons we can take from her life to help our community thrive.

Miriam and her actions are identified in Chapter 15 v 20 & 21.

20. Miriam, the prophetess, Aaron's sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women came out after her with timbrels and with dances.

21. And Miriam called out to them, Sing to the Lord, for very exalted is He; a horse and its rider He cast into the sea.

Who was Miriam?

She was the sister of Aaron and Moshe. We see her discussed in four places in the Torah.

First, Miriam saved her brother Moses, Exodus 2:1-10. This well-known story shows that the survival of the leader of the Exodus, Moses, depended on the courage and ingenuity of one young woman, his sister Miriam. It was Miriam who followed the basket with Moshe down the river and offered the services of a “Wet Nurse” – Moses’ mom Yocheved – when he was taken from the river.

Miriam was a prophetess (Ex. 15:20), the first woman described that way in Torah. According to tradition, she prophesied before Moses' birth that her parents would give birth to the person who would bring about their people's redemption.

At our son’s bris four years ago, which occurred during the same parsha, I was lucky enough to be able to share this story of Miriam’s actions. She was a protector. She was wise. And she was forceful. I assumed this would be a guide for what my little guy’s childhood would be like with two Miriam-esqe older sisters.

Second, we see her in the song of Miriam, Exodus 15:20-21.

Third, we learn of Miriam’s ordeal in Numbers 12. This is the description of Miriam speaking against Moses’ marriage/divorce of Tzipporah. She also objected to his leadership, noting that he had no monopoly on Divine Communication. For this, Miriam was punished with tzaaras. However, Aaron pled on her behalf, and she was cured.

Finally, Miriam’s death, Numbers 20:1-2. Miriam died in a waterless place in the wilderness, but G-d subsequently caused water to appear there. According to tradition, because of Miriam's righteousness, a well followed the people through the desert throughout their wanderings, and that well remained with them until the day of Miriam's death.

Here is some more Miriam knowledge courtesy of Judaism 101 online.

- Miriam was the older sister of Aaron and Moses. According to some sources, she was seven years older than Moses, but other sources seem to indicate that she was older than that.

- Some sources indicate that Miriam “may” have even been Puah, one of the midwives who rescued Hebrew babies from Pharaoh's edict against them. Puah, meant "Whisperer." She was whispering words of prophecy (Sotah 11b, 12b) in seeing Moses’ future as our leader.

- She is said to be the ancestress of other creative geniuses in Israel's history: Bezalel, the architect of the mishkan (the portable sanctuary used in the desert) and King David.

- Like her brothers, Miriam died in the desert before the people reached the Promised Land. One source said she died one year to the day before the Jews crossed over into Israel.

What we can learn from Miriam

What may be instructive for us to think about are the various roles played by Miriam to the Jewish people – as a model for all of the ways we can contribute here in Oakland. Through her we can see that we may not always be perfect – but that our effort is critical.

First, Miriam was literally the deliverer of the Jewish people. She took on one of the most sacred and dangerous tasks available to her – to deliver Jewish babies and save Moshe our greatest leader. While none of us is called to take on life-giving or life-threatening tasks in the community, we are often asked to do things that take tremendous time and effort. That same task is usually competing with the hundreds of other commitments in our daily lives. Miriam shows us that some tasks, like ensuring Jewish continuity and growth in our Oakland community, are too important to be ignored. After all, we are literally delivering the Jewish future in Oakland every day.

Second, Miriam made mistakes. We are all human in this community. We succeed (and even fail) at all the small and big things we take on to serve each other. We work hard. We do some things well. Other things are still a work in progress. Maybe what Miriam shows us is that we can all take responsibility for building our community at Beth Jacob, at OHDS, and at all the other organizations and institutions that sustain us. It also shows us that if we slip up with the occasional lashon horah or another mistake, we can be mindful about the costs – divine or otherwise – of doing so and do teshuvah.

Finally, Miriam knew how to party. One commentary said that while Moshe sang first as the Red Sea closed, he did so without any musical accompaniment. Miriam was the one who wisely packed hand-drums and timbrels. She knew that surviving a difficult ordeal like leaving Egypt including both the brutal life of slavery left behind and the ending of the infanticide of Jewish children would require an uproarious celebration worthy of such a moment of redemption.

As our community evolves, we shouldn’t forget the importance of what we are building here in Oakland and that it requires hard work. However, whether it’s on Simchat Torah, at various simchas, the non-June Dinner, or even just a restful shabbos, we should take the time to enjoy the moment and fruits of what we are building with our friends here in Oakland. We have earned it.

Parsha Va-era - December 28, 2013

Parsha: Va-era

Tevet 25/ December 28 

By: Fred Korr 

Rabbi Joseph Herman Hertz (1872 – 1946) held the position of Chief Rabbi of the British Empire from 1913 until his death in 1946. He was an avid reader, especially of newly developing archeological finds in Egypt and Israel. In his translation and commentaries on all of Tanach, he often cites non-Jewish philosophers or archeologists, whose analyses affirm the text and thoughts of Jewish commentators throughout the ages. One such commentator is Melvin Grove Kyle, DD, LLD, (1858 - 1933) a protestant Doctor of Divinity who was also an expert archeologist in the areas of Egypt and the Holy Land. Dr Kyle lectured in Biblical Archeology at Xenia Seminary, Pittsburgh, Ohio from 1908-1915. He was fluent in Egyptian hieroglyphics, Cuneiform and Aramaic.

We are now reading the Torah Book of Shemos, wherein the Jewish slavery and ultimately redemption from Egypt are recounted. The leader of Egypt bears the appellation “Pharaoh”. But what exactly does the word “Pharaoh” mean?

I recently had the good fortune to acquire a copy of Dr Kyle’s 1920 book “Moses and the Monuments - Light from Archeology on Pentateuchal Times”. On page 128, Professor Kyle very nicely gives the etymology of “Pharaoh”, which I would like to share.

The book printed in 1920, refers to the name of the Government of Turkey as the “Sublime Port”, a term originating during the period of the Byzantine Empire. It was carried forth after World War I, when French was still the language of international diplomacy and nomenclature.

To quote from page 128 of the book cited:

“In the language of diplomats, the Turkish government is known by the French appellation “Sublime Porte”, which means simply “The High Gate”, a magniloquent figure of speech for the palace, and so for the government whose seat is there. A like, but more extended development of the word Pharaoh is traceable in the history of Egypt as it comes to us from widely separated sources."

"The Egyptian word for house is per, and for great is aa. Every house was per, a palace or temple or other great house was per-aa. The language of adulation easily appropriated this  expression as a name for the residence of the king, which became thus very easily, distinctively  Peraa, or as it has come to us through the Greek, “Pharaoh”. In the early history of Egyptian  royalty, the word had no other meaning than simply palace, but in time, just as among the  Turks, the “High Gate” became the government, so among the Egyptians, Peraa, “The Great  House”, became not only the government whose seat was in the house, but the King, “Pharaoh” who, as a despot, was the government."

Parsha Vayechi - December 14, 2013

Parsha: Vayechi 

Tevet 11 /December 14 

By: Sarah Engel 

(based on the preface to Praying with Fire, by Rabbi Heshy Kleinman)

“Yesimcha Elokim K’Efraim U’K’Menasha...” Many of us have heard these familiar words before, I personally associate them with Friday nights, when our parents bless us. Attached to these words are those of bircat cohanim (Yevarechacha Hashem V’Yismarecha...)We say those words in shacharit, at shema before we go to bed and the Cohanim pronounce that blessing before the entire community on Yom Tov. This well-known blessing of the children originates in this week’s parsha, Parshat VaYechi. Yakov is at the end of his life, and he calls in his grandchildren, blessing them with these words.

The blessing of “Yevarechecha Hashem..” when looked at carefully has much more depth than what meets the eye. According to a variety of midrashim and meforshim (commentators) these three lines contain blessings for wealth, peace, good relationships, good relationship with G-d, safety, and Teshuva.

When I read this, I began thinking about blessings, prayer and the idea of wishing well for others. Okay, so these blessings are certainly very nice but how do they matter if G-d has a specific plan for each of us, determined from the High Holidays of that year?

The Chovot HaLevavot states that through the process of tefillah we change internally, causing ourselves to be different people than we were previously. After actively engaging in tefillah, a process by which you reconnect and recognize G-d as the source of all, you transform yourself into a different person than you were ten minutes before. And the evil decree that was set out for you ten minutes before is no longer necessary, as you are now a different, improved being. Additionally, he goes on to say “the purpose of tefillah is not to change the Almighty’s mind but rather to bring us to the realization that our fate is completely dependent on His will, that we can only survive through his mercy.”

So I understand now how my tefillot may help myself, as my transformation into a better person may assist me in avoiding a Heavenly Decree. But how will my prayers help another person? Rabbi Heshy Kleinman, author of Praying with Fire asked this same question to his rabbi, Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian. Rabbi Lopian answered that when one causes others to pray for him, the participants in the prayer are doing a good deed, therefore acquiring good merits for themselves. Since the instigator of the prayers has caused mass transformation in others, he himself will now have many good merits that will stand for him in the face of the Heavenly Decree.

Rabbi Mattitiyahu Salomon writes in the preface to Praying with Fire that, “Sometimes, the merit a sick person accumulates through the prayers of other people is sufficient to tip the scales in his favor and rescind the evil decree. Sometimes, however, the evil decree simply cannot be rescinded. We cannot fathom the intricacies of the Divine plan; we only know the end result of the Divine is completely good. And if the Almighty chooses not to rescind the decree despite the accumulation of mountains of merit through prayer, we accept with full faith that this is the best way to further the Divine plan for the entire world and achieve the ultimate good.”

G-d wants to connect with us, He wants to have a deep and personal relationship with every one of His children. One of the major areas we see this is in Sefer Devarim,when Bnei Yisrael are about to enter the Land of Israel. Moshe tells Bnei Yisrael that if they do good and follow in the ways of Hashem, they will receive rain and other good things, and if they do not follow in the ways of Torah, there will be drought and famine. One could ask this question, If G-d is the creator of the universe, why didn’t He create the Land of Israel with a stable water source? Even today, Israel is struggles with water and must be very scrupulous about wasting water, limiting everyone’s showers to five minutes and developing water recycling plants. However, just 600 miles south of Tel Aviv is the Nile River, one of the most fertile areas in the Middle East that accounts for most of Egypt’s water needs. How come G-d didn’t just transpose the Nile River into Israel? That would definitely solve many problems Israel faces today. The answer to this question is a surprisingly deep one. G-d didn’t create our homeland with a stable water source because He wanted a connection with us. He wanted us to be connected with Him, He wanted to hear from us regularly, have us dependent on Him for our basic sustenance.

In short, why do our tefillot matter?

1. It transforms us, and the people we pray for, causing us, and them, to be intrinsically different than we were before, causing the decrees to be different as we have evolved into different people.

2. If our prayers did not bring upon tangible change, they were not worthless and were definitely heard and will affect us some other way.

3. G-d wants to hear from us and wants to foster a deep, personal relationship with every one of His children

So, back to that profound moment in this week’s parsha when Yakov calls his children into his tent, giving them a blessing before he died. Only G-d knows if that heartfelt prayer changed the Divine plan for the children in the future. However, Yakov Avinu was certainly changed, improved and uplifted, his children were transformed and inspired and we, his descendants are certainly still affected by his powerful bracha.

Shabbat Shalom!

Sarah

Parsha Vayigash - December 7, 2013

Parsha: Vayigash 

Tevet 4/December 7 

By: Michal Kohane 

Imagine yourself before a critical committee for a job interview, perhaps going up to the bima for your Bar Mitzvah speech, or waiting for a contest to begin. Everything hinges on this one moment! Everybody is staring at you! You can feel the butterflies in your belly, your voice is quivering a bit, but then, though you’re still somewhat scared, you lift your eyes, ready to meet the challenge.

The Torah, in this week’s parasha, starts exactly at that pivotal point. Last week, Joseph finally “discovered” who’s the “real thief.” He gave the brothers an easy out: leave Benjamin with me and you all travel back to your father. He recreated the situation of a couple of decades earlier, when the brothers sold him. Once again, the brothers can get rid of the youngest, beloved son of the favorite wife. Will they take up this opportunity and repeat the same act, or have they done their tshuva?

It is Judah who steps up, facing Joseph in this dramatic and moving encounter, and if we carefully look at both of them, we can see how more than their own plea is at stake. In fact, two completely different ways of being Jewish are represented here.

Judah is the shepherd who works the land, wanders in search of water and pasture, trusting the flow of the seasons as an expression of Hashem’s care; thus he is the one who focuses on the spiritual and in addition, he is the one who still lives in the Land of Israel. Joseph, dressed in fancy clothing, portioning out rations for each person in Egypt, a super “man-made” empire where even the Nile’s water are under control, is the one who made it big in the Diaspora. He is ambitious and not shy about it. He enjoys the company of people and goods. Joseph doesn’t forsake his identity and believes it is possible to be Jewish in this kind of environment too. He doesn’t hesitate to invite his family to come and join him, and yet, when he does that, he invites his brother to “come down”: “Hurry, go up to my father and say to him… come down to me, do not delay” (45:9).

“Come down”? The brothers are poor; Joseph is rich. The brothers are nobodies in a land that isn’t always hospitable towards them (as seen in the Dina story, Genesis 34); Joseph is second only to the Pharaoh. We would think that going to Egypt is going “up.” However since time immemorial, going to Israel is “Aliya;” going up, and going away, like Jacob and his sons, is going down.

Joseph knows that it’s not easy to be Jewish outside of Israel. The brothers know it’s not easy to make it in Israel. Joseph knows there are great advantages to living in Egypt which now are crucial to the family’s survival; the brothers accept that sometimes one has to leave the Land for greater purposes, but it’s a “down” and only temporary.

Their conversation continued in the Talmud, and even today is as contemporary as ever. We all know Josephs who left Russia hundred some years ago and came to America, the Golden Medina, only to find their grandchildren making aliya; we know Judahs who immigrated to Israel decades ago to dry the swamps and build the early kibbutzim, only to have their grandchildren relocate with a great high-tech start-up to the U.S. In a way, we are all part of the meet-up between Judah and Joseph. Is one better? Is more “more right?” We’ll further explore this fascinating topic in this Shabbat’s chamin & chavruata.

Hope to see you!

Parsha Miketz (Chanukah) - November 30, 2013

Parsha: Miketz (Chanukah)

Kislev 27/November 30 

By: Alexandra Hart 

The comment jolted my memory. Gerardo Joffe was recounting his escape from Germany 65 years ago to the day. The Gestapo officer who provided his exit visa said, “remember me" and so he did, although never seeing him again. Without the man, it's unlikely he'd have lived.

We read that particular comment from Joseph at the end of Vayeishev. He speaks to the butler who, having served his term, is released from prison, leaving Joseph behind. It sets the stage for the opening of Miketz and we see Joseph's release two years later at the start of our parshah.

The commentary on Joseph's request is extensive, ranging from criticism that previously he had been solely reliant on G-d and now he was turning for help from another, resulting in a delay of two years before being released.

It's suggested (Bereishis Rabbah 89 as well as the Ramchal) that each of his emphasized comments:  remember me' as well as 'mention me' added a further year. I wonder if there's any space for this being simply a moment of desperation, where Joseph is willing to cling to anything for help. Perhaps with the peculiar comment of the Gestapo officer, he knew what could happen to him and maybe he was shoring up support.

We're told that the butler forgot. There are times when we too forget. We become immersed in the everyday and sometimes we're all too keen to forget. Vasile Grossman (Life & Fate) writes on love unrequited, "He had lived without her before. He could get over it! In a year or so he'd be able to walk straight past her without his heart so much as missing a beat. He needed her as much as a drunk needs a cork! But he understood all too quickly how vain these thoughts were. How can you tear something out of your heart? Your heart isn't made out of paper and your life isn't written down in ink. You can't erase the imprint of years."

Joseph's brothers are slow to respond to the famine in Canaan. They too may be hoping for an alternative solution to materialize but it results in a rebuke from Yaacov, "why do you look at one another?" They are slow to step up and take responsibility to feed their family. This is not an inherently Jewish trait. Ordinarily, we as Jews are on the front line, taking care of each other and saving the world. Rabbi Sacks (Covenant & Conversation 5772, Miketz) writes just that. One of the IDF's cries is 'acharai!' ('after me!') and a group of Aish yeshiva students at the start of the first intifada, with soldiers and civilians killed in a short time, was beseeched with the words, "Israel's at war! What are you doing about it?"

The danger is in forgetting. In parshat Lech Lecha, G-d says to Abram, "your offspring shall be strangers in a land not their own." The Chasam Sofer writes, "the more we try to draw closer to the other nations, we forget Jerusalem and the more they place a yoke on us the more hated we become in their eyes." Rav Yisrael Salanter focuses on the philosophy of this posuk and writes, "they will not succeed in becoming citizens in the other lands and forgetting their own land."

Parsha Vayeishev - November 22, 2013

Vayeishev 

Kislev 19/November 22 

By: Neska 

When Yosef's brothers saw the coat of many colors (what if it had been just one color - would it have made a difference) they hated their brother they understood the meaning behind the gift that Ya'akov had selected Yosef to be the continuer of the covenant and when Yosef further disclosed his dreams they hated him even more because they knew in their hearts that they were correct.

So what was so wrong with Yosef even though not the oldest but certainly a first born of Rochel's becoming the 'chosen' of the pack?

Because the brothers truly thought that Yosef was the incorrect choice and would not be the perfect person to continue to lead the Jewish people they knew he had to be stopped by any means and so they tried for the sake of the Jewish people.

However, as we all know now.......

Shabbat Shalom

Chag Sameach Chanukah vee Thanksgiving

Parsha Vayishlach - November 15, 2013

Parshat Vayishlach

Kislev 12 / November 15

By: Michal Kohane 

I’ve begun to think of the Hebrew alphabet as a combination of Chinese and English. It could be that this reflects the fact I do not know any Chinese. Nevertheless, what I mean is that just like in Chinese or old Japanese, the letters are pictures rather than sounds, while in English the letter migrated to be mostly sounds irrelevant of any original picture they represented, so too, one can see the Hebrew alphabet is a mix of pictures and sounds. On one hand, you can learn the Hebrew letters as just sounds: here, this is a Bet. It makes a “B” sound. Great! On the other hand, you learn that each letter started out from a picture, and as such, represents a whole idea that stands behind that symbol. The Bet therefore, is not just “b.” It is a “bayit,” a house. If you look at it carefully, you can see the walls, floor and roof, as well as the porch on the right side. In many words, it represents building something, like in the words av, ben & bat, all building family and continuity (wait, how come em / ima – mom – then has no bet? Next time…)

If we knew what each letter stands for, we could create a word, and indeed, this is what made the roots system. The challenge is that sometimes those roots grew to such amazing trees, that some of their branches are too far to easily figure out what connects them.

Ya’akov is one such name. When he was born, we learned that his name comes from akev, heel, because he was holding his brother’s foot. We’re so used to it that we don’t think anymore how strange it is to name your child ‘ankle,’ though it doesn’t make sense. Then we read about Yaakov & Esau and notice that Esau is using Yaakov’s name as a verb: “vaya’akveni ze pa’amayim” – “and he deceived me twice already” (Genesis 27:36). We keep reading through the Torah and come across the Torah portion of “Ekev,” translated as “because,” and then we end up in Isaiah (40:4) who says, “vehaya ha’akov lemishor” – loosely translated as ‘the crooked will become straight, or flat.’ Let’s leave it for a moment, and explore Ya’akov’s second name.

In this week’s parasha, Ya’akov’s name is changed to Yisrael. Notice, that while Avraham only goes through a slight name change (Genesis 17:5) and Yitzchak’s name stays the same throughout his life, Ya’akov gets a whole new name: The angel he struggles with names him Yisra’el “ for you have become the commanding power before G-d and men, and you have prevailed” (Genesis 32:29). Some say Yisra’el comes from S.R.H – to rule or lord, while others say, it comes from Y.Sh.R – the root for straightforward.

Either way, when we put both names side by side, they help us understand each other: one relates to lower elements: a heel, a deception, a chain reaction, a crooked road or area. You read the list, and it makes you want to bow your head down. The other relates to higher and exalted feeling: victory, royalty, straight and open. Reading it, I want to lift my head proudly. Which way is it?

Unlike others in the Torah, Ya’akov’s name change is not permanent or complete. From here on till the end his life, he will be called both, Ya’akov & Yisra’el, reminding us that like him, we also hold two, often conflicting aspects of ourselves within us. The pain and joy of experiencing and juggling them both is what life is made of.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parsha Vayeitzei - November 9, 2013

Parsha Vayeitzei

Kislev 6/ November 9 

By: Jeanne Reisman 

I dedicated my study of Vayetzei and this Drasha to the memory of my beloved father, Dr Robert Reisman z”l (Yehudah ben Hersch) whose first Yahrzeit was 2 Kislev

A year ago last August; I set out on a journey with my Dad to Maine. This trip, while prompted by a specific purpose, to visit with my ailing uncle, my father’s older brother Dave, was also the opportunity to savor wild blueberries, take in the beauty of rugged coastal inlets, and keep watch for elusive Moose. Our journey together was filled with both joy and sadness. The joy in our shared company and in hearing the brothers’ stories was alongside the sadness of my uncle’s diminishing health. We left teary eyed, and in anticipation of loss.

The irony was that my family did experience a loss just a few months later. It was my vital, energetic Dad, who died, after a very sudden and aggressive illness. I embarked on a second journey, then, a dark and inward time, unlike the expansive and joyful road trip of August.

The Parasha Vayetzei begins and ends with leaving. It may not be a surprise that I was drawn to themes of loss: tears, vulnerability, and loneness. I was pulled to Leah’s tears of grief, and to Jacob’s initial vulnerability as he left home alone. How did their sadness or loss transform them respectively? What can we learn from Leah’s tears? What can Jacob’s response to his path taken teach us?

V’anai Leah Rakot “Leah had weak eyes”

(Gen 29:17).

The text describes Leah as follows:

“ And Laban had two daughters. The name of the elder was Leah and the name of the younger Rachel. And Leah’s eyes were Rakot…“ (Gen 29:16-17)

From the start of the narrative, we know little about Leah other than that she is the elder of the two sisters. While Rachel is described as a beauty, Leah, by contrast, is depicted by her eyes, described as Rakot. Given a lack of textual detail about Leah, and the ambiguity of the word, Rakot, others have contributed to our sense of her character.

 Rakot has been interpreted as beautiful (Targum, Rashbam), weak (Ibn Ezra), sensitive (Netziv suggesting Leah was unable to go out with the flocks because the sunlight hurt her eyes). According to Rashi, the Radak, and other midrashic writing, “Leah’s eyes were Rakot,” meant that she was easily moved to tears. Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explained that this meant, “She was vulnerable, lacking her younger sister’s resilience, that she was thin-skinned, sensitive, attuned to nuance, and easily hurt.”

 It was said that Leah cried and wept, after hearing a rumor that she would be married off to Esau, (Gen. R. 70:16) “Leah cried so much her eyelashes fell out.” According to Aviva Zornberg, this was to her credit, as her tears of disappointment and grief galvanized her. In other words, through the force of her tears, she shifted her fate, and moved out of that deep grief. A related thought of mine looks at the dynamic between the sisters. Perhaps Leah grieved for the loss of closeness between the sisters. Enmity was likely to occur between them as a result of Leah taking Rachel’s place under the chupah. Or, given the emotional interpretation of rakot, perhaps Leah was overwhelmed seeing the deep love between Jacob and Rachel, and his preference for her sister, of from the sense of a lacking within herself.

Whatever of these thoughts or others prompted her tears, the consequence of her emotional turmoil led to profound transformation.

Aviva Zornberg offers the following thoughts:

“Her tears generate her many children. For a formidable energy builds up in her, in her deprivation… She takes Rachel’s place under the marriage canopy; and in the darkness, in which forms and structures become fluid, in which transformations, fantastic combinations and splitting become possible, Leah becomes Rachel”.

That is to say, Leah’s apparent sense of helplessness and tears yields to action, she steps under the Chupah with Jacob, her eyes veiled.

And what of Jacob, and his leaving, his aloneness and vulnerability? Jacob, strongly attached to home (his mother), to his life of study, is directed by his parents, to leave, to set out on his own, to flee his twin, and to find a wife. Jacob is alone, about to experience and navigate the world. He lives with the consequences of deception, a fractured relationship with Esau. Something is lost; there is an empty place within him. According to Aviva Zornberg, “Rashi speaks of a void left behind Jacob as he begins his journey, but that perhaps the void is in Jacob as well “

Again Aviva Zornberg,

“This is clearly more than a physical journey; it involves a movement away from the essential place of family and destiny…”

Jacob sets out on the road for Haran and “came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.” (Gen 28:10) Jacob is alone, afraid and vulnerable in that dark place, and he dreams. Dreams provide a way of accessing our deepest selves. For Jacob, he is transformed from a sense of fear and vulnerability, through his sleep and his dream. He connects with the divine, and he feels more complete, energized, altered, less alone. Through the process of connecting with his self, a shift occurs; the place of darkness becomes a place of holiness, of comfort, of reverence, of safety, and of connection. It becomes a place that both invigorates and empowers him and yet having found it a place of comfort, may be a place difficult to leave.

“And Jacob lifted his feet…” and went on. This particular idiom is unique to this context in the Torah, and while according to Etz Chaim Chumash, “lifted his feet” meant the going was easier or that Jacob went with resolve and confidence, has also been interpreted that he had to force himself to leave this place.

Like Leah, the mourner’s eyes are Rakot; sensitive, overwhelmed by grief. And like Jacob’s journey in that place, mourning is solitary. One is alone, life more narrow in scope. One finds oneself in a dark place, a place of vulnerability and with a heightened sensitivity to the environment. Drawing inward allows one to access inner strength, and in time, the tears and sense of utter aloneness yield to a place of comfort.

Loss is inevitable, a part of living for all of us. Sometimes our experience of loss might, like Jacob’s, stem from leaving (home), or from an estranged relationship. (Esau) Perhaps it may stem from disappointment, as in the example of Leah, or from mourning, as in my recent experience.

I learned from this parasha, and from Leah’s grief and from Jacob’s vulnerability, that when faced with darkness in life, the capacity exists within ourselves to find strength, courage, comfort, and a way forward. And when it is time to emerge from a dark time, that we, Like Jacob, can find the strength to ‘lift our feet’ – perhaps energized, perhaps still heavy in step, to move on to the next phase of our journey.

Parsha Toldot - November 1, 2013

Parsha Toldot

Cheshvan 28/ November 1 

By: Diane Whitten-Vile 

Even before they were born, the twins of this Parsha struggled in the womb. Yitzchak and Rivkah were married and like so many other women in the Torah, Rivkah was barren. The Torah tells us, Yitzchak prayed repeatedly (in a corner opposite of Rivkah) to allow Rivkah to conceive. Why did Yitzchak go to the corner to pray? Maybe Rivkah was not so concerned that she could not have children. Or maybe the reception was just better in that corner. “Can you hear me now?” Hashem heard his prayer and Rivkah conceived. While struggling in the womb, these two boys must have caused much pain. She said, “If the pain of pregnancy is so much, why did I want to be like this?” There are several interpretations of why the pain was so great, and exactly what Rivkah was saying here, but that is for a later D’var. At the term of her pregnancy, Rivkah indeed gave birth to twin boys. Not only were these two boys different in appearance, they also had different places in their parents’ affection.

Gen: 25:27-28 –“The boys grew up, and Esau became a skillful hunter, a man of the open country, while Jacob was a quiet man, staying among tents. Yitzchak, who had a taste for wild game, loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob.” We know why Rivkah loved Jacob. While pregnant, she questioned Hashem about the pain. Paraphrasing, Hashem told her two kingdoms are inside of you, one will follow wickedness and one to innocence. The elder son will serve the younger son. It seems Hashem was saying the younger would carry forward the burden of history. But why did Yitzchak favor Esau? Didn’t he understand that Esau was wild and impestuous? Didn’t he know what Hashem had told Rivkah? Did Yitzchak love Esau just because he could “trap”? It is suggested that Esau knew how to trap, not just animals, but entrap others with his mouth. Esau asked his father “how should one tithe salt and straw”? Maybe this made Yitzchak think,
“Wow, he’s asking the right questions, he must be strictly observing the commandments.” Esau knew full well the answers to his questions. Rashi says the Midrashic explanation is “There was entrapment in the mouth of Esau, who trapped his father and deceived him by his words.” Some would say that Yitzchak loved Esau because he was unaware of just who Esau was, and how deceptive he could be. But there is another possibility, and that is that Yitzchak loved Esau precisely because he DID know who Esau was.

A man came to Rav Kook in the early 20th century and told Rav Kook, “I’ve given my son a good Jewish education, and I’ve done all I can do to raise a learned, observant, Jewish man. But now my son has strayed and is no longer observant. What as a parent should I do”? Rav Kook asked him, “Did you love your son when he was observant?” The man answered “of course,” and Rav Kook said to him, “then you must love him more now.” If you have two sons, and one of them is a mensch and the other one is likely to turn out badly, to which one should you give more time and attention? We know that Esau did show his father respect. He kept only his best clothes in readiness to serve his father; this is why Jacob was able to fool his father when Esau was away, by wearing those garments. So he saved his very best clothes to honor his father.

Later in the Torah Hashem forbids the Israelites to wage war against the descendants of Esau. Later still Moshe commands the Israelites: do not abhor the descendants of Esau for he is your brother. The sages understood both of these provisions as an enduring reward to Esau for the way he honored his father. Esau reciprocated his father’s love, but remained Esau, a man of the field, not the man to carry forward the commandments. Not all of our children will follow the path of their parents. So maybe Yitzchak loved Esau not blindly but with full knowledge that there would be times when his eldest son would give him grief. Maybe the Torah is telling us that loving our children no matter what they become is surely the way Hashem loves us.

Parsha Chayei Sarah - October 25, 2013

Parshat Chayei Sarah 

Cheshvan 21Pa/ October 25 

By: Joel Ackerman 

Most of this week’s parasha reads like the plot of a soap opera. The cast of characters:

Abraham: The man who had been blessed with everything – except grandchildren to inherit his legacy.

Isaac: a forty-year-old bachelor, never dated. He would inherit everything, but who was he, really?

Rebecca: Chosen by G-d to be Isaac’s wife. Was she up to the challenge?

Eliezer: A true and faithful servant or conflicted over the need to advance his own interests?

Abraham was well advanced in age – at an age when he would be reviewing his life and accomplishments, and there was a huge gap. G-d had promised him that his descendants would be exceedingly numerous, but Isaac, the son who would inherit everything, was still unmarried. Abraham did not want Isaac married to any local women, even those from the families of his close Canaanite friends, but apparently was no longer up to the task of looking for a wife for him – especially since it would involve a long journey. So he assigned Eliezer, the steward of his property, the task.  Many times humans complicate matters. Eliezer is characterized by our commentators as Abraham’s perfect servant, loyal to the core. However, some of Eliezer’s acts in this parasha seem to indicate an intent to sabotage his own mission.

 Eliezer concocts a very specific scenario that would tell him whether a particular girl would be the right wife for Isaac. It would seem extremely unlikely that anyone would carry out that scenario exactly, and the mission would therefore fail. Yet Rebecca comes to the well and enacts the scenario exactly as Eliezer had envisioned it.

 When Eliezer enters the home of Rebecca’s family, he is offered food, but refuses to eat, stating “I will not eat until I have spoken my words.” This is a scene common in many medieval romances. A stranger rides into a castle, is invited to eat at the master’s table, stands up and states “I cannot eat until I have told my story!” At this point, everyone relaxes. The stranger is on some type of quest. The evening’s entertainment has arrived.

 But this isn’t medieval Europe. This is the Middle East, where customs involving host and guest are critical, where an error in behavior can produce a serious insult, where honor is at stake. And it looks as if Eliezer’s behavior here – refusing food - is intended to be a major affront to his hosts. In reciting Eliezer’s speech to Rebecca’s family, at one point the ba’al koreh uses a shalshelet, a quavering note that rises, falls and rises again. It is only used a few times in the entire Torah; it indicates a major point of tension – a major point of conflict for the character. Why is it here for Eliezer? Rashi asserts “Eliezer had a daughter and he was searching for a pretext so that Abraham would turn to him to marry his daughter to Isaac.”

The Dubno Maggid agrees: “Eliezer… had been forced to carry out his master’s orders, but he had no real desire that his mission should be successful”. He told his story to the family in a way that they would have no desire to pursue Abraham’s proposal of marriage so that Abraham would have to come to him for the marriage.

And at the end, Eliezer demands to know whether or not they intended to do kindness and truth to his master; if not, he would pack up and go immediately. After all that, Rebecca’s family could be justified in rejecting Abraham’s proposal.

 But most commentators do not agree. Abravanel is typical. In his view, Eliezer was completely faithful. He ignores Rashi’s thought about a daughter of Eliezer. He states, as do all the commentators, that Eliezer’s concocted scenario at the well was to determine whether the girl had the necessary characteristic of chesed – kindness – that would be needed for Isaac’s wife. He asserts that Eliezer’s refusal to eat until he had spoken was necessary in case they did not reach an agreement about Rebecca because in that case he would have to leave immediately, which could not be done if he had accepted food from the host. He describes how Eliezer carefully casts his story, leaving out some details that might produce a negative response from the family. He rejects any assertion that Eliezer intended to insult Rebecca’s family or that they felt insulted.

 The usual English expression is “Man proposes, G-d disposes”. Yiddish, as usual, is much more on point: “Man tracht un Gott lacht” (man plans and G-d laughs). Whether or not Eliezer was seeking to sabotage his mission, he accomplished it with flying colors.

 And what of Rebecca? Was she the right wife for Isaac? Was she up to the challenge of marrying a 40-year-old bachelor, probably well set in his ways, son of the world’s first Jewish mother, and whose father had nearly taken his life? Surely a strong sense of kindness was needed, but Isaac’s wife, like the wives of all of our patriarchs, had to have much more.

 I like to see how writers envision the characters in the Tanach.

 Orson Scott Card, a famed writer mainly of science fiction and fantasy, wrote a series of biographical novels of our matriarchs. He describes Rebecca as a young woman sure of herself and her convictions, who had heard great things of Abraham’s family and who did not hesitate for a moment when the chance came to become part of it. He adds the assertion that her behavior at the well, in addition to showing extreme kindness, also indicated a lack of the extreme modesty often expected of women in that society – women would not normally approach a strange man for any reason.

The author Maurice Samuel, in “Certain People of the Book”, calls Rebecca “The Manager”. He writes: “’Managerial’, too, is the best overall word for Rebekah, the wife of Isaac, and after it, ‘intuitive’, ‘unerring’, ‘competent’, all with a touch of greatness. If I had a problem in human relations it is Rebekah I would want to consult… Not Naomi, who I suspect would solve my problem by making me into the kind of person who doesn’t have that kind of problem.” He describes her as “lively, intelligent, quick in action, even as a girl; a person with a grasp of things... not the submissive and servile Oriental female of popular tradition” He states “Instinct – by which I mean the totality of her character – told Rebekah that it would be good for her husband to know, and to remember for the rest of his life, that when she was called to him she turned to her family and said “I will go – at once.”

 Yes, all agree, Rebecca was the right person for Isaac. He had the good fortune to have his wife chosen specifically for him by G-d. A lot of things could have gone wrong in this soap opera, but G-d’s plan prevailed. Who knows, perhaps He enjoyed watching the characters play out this plot. Man tracht un Gott lacht, indeed

Parsha Vayeirah - October 18, 2013

Michal Kohane

Parsha Vayeirah

Jane: Honey, what is that wooden sled still doing here? Jakie almost broke his head tripping over it when we walked into the garage! You know how much I hate it. I told you to throw it away!!

Joe: Honey, this is my favorite sled! You know how much it means to me. With this very sled my high school sweetheart and I won the foreign teens championship in Norway thirty years ago during my year abroad! You cant possibly ask me to…

G-d: Joe! Forget that old sled. Just do whatever Jane says...

Among its many amazing stories, from Abraham hosting the messengers and arguing with G-d for Sodom and Gamora, to the miraculous birth of Isaac and the mesmerizing story of the Binding, we get a one verse glimpse into what must be the most famous domestic dispute. Sarah tells Abraham to kick Hagar and Yishma’el out, and while we do not hear Abraham’s response, we can guess it, for had he quickly agreed (as he did back in chapter 15 when Sarah first offered him Hagar), there would have been no need for G-d Himself to intervene.

Last week, in Parashat Lech-Lecha (Genesis 15:1-16), Sarah (then still Sarai) suggested that Abraham (Abram) take Hagar to have a child. After all, G-d promised him an offspring, but maybe not through her? They have been in the land now, after returning from Egypt, for ten years. Surely if G-d wanted them to have children together, it would have happened by now. Maybe it’s just Sarah who is stalling G-d’s plan? As they have aged, she might have become more and more worried.

Hagar becomes pregnant, but rather than remembering she was given to Abraham so Sarah can be “built” and have continuity through her (15:2), she treats her mistress lightly. She continues to be known as Sarah’s “shifcha” (maidservant) but feels herself to be Abraham’s wife. Sarah approaches Abraham and asks for his help in the matter: “May Hashem judge between me and you”. His response is, “do to her as you wish”. 

Sarah “tortures” her (vate’aneha”) and Hagar runs away. The angel that finds her also calls her “Hagar the maidservant of Sarai” (15:8) and instructs her to go back. Rabbi Hirsch notes the order of the angel’s words: “go back and work it out”, he says (loosely this is how Hirsch explains “hit’ani”) and Hagar doesn’t move. Only when he says, “behold you’re pregnant with a son…” (15:11) she agrees to go back.

In this week’s Torah portion, Isaac is born and Sarah observes with great distress the interactions between her son, Isaac and that son, Yishma’el.  She doesn’t just tell Abraham to send Hagar and Yishma’el away but uses the verb “garesh”, same root used for gerushin, divorce. The text tells us that Abraham felt very badly for his son, but G-d says, “don’t feel bad for the boy and for your maidservant”, which might be the first time that someone actually notes the special bond that developed between Abraham and Hagar. For a brief moment, it seems that G-d “understands” Abraham’s feelings. It is important to note that up until this point, none of our key Biblical heroes had a second wife so perhaps no one knew how complicated the theory can get in real life. Still, in spite of the brief compassion, G-d tells him: “Listen to Sarah’s voice”. Rashi notes that this comes to show that Abraham was secondary to Sarah in prophesy. Rabbi Hirsch notes that the voice is likened to the soul and that G-d instructed Abraham to be tuned with Sarah’s spiritual knowledge. In a way, Abraham was the transistor but Sarah was the antenna.  In fact, G-d never talks to Abraham without Sarah being an active part of his life!

But there is also irony in this section, expressed by the choice of roots: first, it is Yishma’el who is the one “metzachek” (same root as Yitzchak, from to laugh) and Sarah is the one about whom it is said, “shma bekola” (same root as Yishma’el, from to hear, listen).

I admit: There was a time when I was almost jealous of Sarah. Wouldn’t you like it if G-d showed up at your home too when you’re about to lose an argument, telling everybody to listen to you and do as you say?!

But then it dawned on me how terrible it must have felt for Sarah not to be heard by the person who was her nearest and dearest to her, especially when it came to the most critical issue in their life; to be so unheard, that G-d Himself had to intervene. Having such a powerful ally might shed light not only her great spirituality but also on the grave state on their relationship at that moment.

But in spite of the pain and him not fully understanding, Abraham complies. He gets up early, packs a lunch and saddles his donkey. By doing so, perhaps he gives Sarah what is still the greatest gift any person can give another human being: the gift of listening.