I might not be able to sing like a Cantor, but I have Gifts to Offer! - Parasha T'rumah, Exodus 25:1-27:19 1 Kings 5:26-6:13

I have to reveal a little secret, I am a Cantor want-a-be. The Rabbinical school I went to had a Cantorial department, and I can recall walking through the halls stopping to listen to their singing, but more than that their voices.  Today, many of those same people are in their respective synagogues, and thanks to the ability to stream or join via Zoom I can still enjoy listening and praying with them.  But this is the neat part, yes they sing traditional melodies that touch the Jewish neshama, but they also create new ones, new tunes that make those all too familiar prayers and songs creative, exciting and fresh.  They use their creative abilities to build a sense of the holy as they lead us in prayer, thank you my friends!    We find the idea of creativity in this week’s parasha, T’rumah, regarding the acts of this people who left Egypt.  It was the people who were self motivated to gave gifts (t’rumah) from their own wealth, albeit wealth they took from Egypt, to provide the needed materials to build the Mishkan, or the Tabernacle that traveled with them in the wilderness. The Mishkan would stand in the midst of the people, the place where they would gather together for worship and prayer, the place of sacrifice and ritual, a place where the mundane of daily living was held in contrast to the beauty and holiness of this sacred space; part of their transformation was about understanding the God in their midst differently from the gods of their past.  But we also read in a parasha two weeks from now that individual human creativity was part of this creative process.  Here we find that Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur and Oholiab son of Ahisamach were both endowed with the ability to create, both also being accredited for making designs from precious metals and woods; making everything from the Aron, the ark that carried the Ten Commandments, to the golden Menorah and the vestments the Priests would wear.  Human partnership with God and creative abilities were central to the building of this sacred space that traveled with them throughout the next forty years. As to the purpose of the Mishkan itself, the first thing we must notice is the words. It says of God in Exodus 25:8, “Make me a sanctuary and I will dwell in YOUR midst,” when really it should say “ITS midst.”  The Mishkan is not a them, it is an it so what gives?  Avigdor Shinan, who wrote “A New Israeli Commentary on Pirkei Avot,” writes that it is about the people not the place, where the Shekinah, the presence of the Divine, binds people to God “in times of joy’ (Sota 11a) but also “in times of crisis” (Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael, 12:13).  In the same way, Aviah Gottlieb Zornberg writes that the Mishkan is “a bayit (a house) that, ultimately, God and Moses are building” (in partnership, my words), teaching that it is “God’s desire to live among these Israelites, in their midst, within them.”  It should be mentioned that the Mishkan Shinan and Zornberg reflect on is mentioned seventeen times alone in this parasha whereas the word sanctuary (mikdash) from the verse above, Exodus. 25:8, is only mentioned once.  Looking at the Classical commentary of Ibn Ezra he provides the answer; "the Mishkan is called a mikdash (a sanctuary) because it is the tabernacle of the holy God."  In other words, it was not just an ordinary structure but a sacred space created by the people, a sanctuary (mikdash), where the community would connect with God. But it has further been pointed out that the Mishkan is more so the backdrop for the modern day synagogue after the fall of Jerusalem in 70CE as opposed to the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple that stood in Jerusalem; not once but twice.  We read in 1 Kings 8:27, “But will God really dwell on earth? Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You, how much less this House that I have built,” meaning can God really be confined to a single location?  There is a Jewish saying that comes to mind  here that is helpful, that saying being “ita’ruta d’letata,” which is commonly translated as an arousal from below.  Nowhere in Torah do we find a commandment to build individual Jewish houses of worship that we call synagogues more so than the synagogues are the creative response to the human longing for sacred space that was epitomized with the Temple.  One description of the synagogue is that it became “Jerusalem in exile, the home of the Jewish heart,” thus; the arousal of the Jewish heart fueled the building of the synagogues that we have today.  Why is it like the Mishkan and not the Beit Hamikdash?  The Beit Hamikdash was not mobile; it was confined to Jerusalem whereas the Mishkan, and later the synagogues (and temples), remind us that the presence of God can be found anywhere.  Back to my Cantor friends, I know it says do not covet, but hey, what can I say! But really it is just not them, it’s the nature of Jewish communities. The synagogues, or our temples, are gathering places where we can reflect on sacred moments and set the regularities of life aside for a bit.  This is why our synagogues must be sacred spaces with good and meaningful worship, not to mention places of learning and understanding, but they also must be places of Tikkun Olam, places that seek to better the world around us, places that stand as beacons of light and hope to the greater community in general, for members or not. The synagogue must be a place where families can instill Jewish values into their children, a place where our teenagers can grow together and young adults will find support as they venture into the world after College.  The synagogue is also a place to learn about spiritual things, be educated about the role of Judaism in our ever changing world, and to share the joys and unpredictability in life together as opposed to alone, a place where our seniors can continue to learn, contribute and feel valued as they age.  Whatever our communities are WE get to build them and use OUR creative talents and means along the way.  We all have a little bit of Bezalel and Oholiab in us, and even if our gifts are not the same, we all have a creative melody within whether we can sing like a Cantor or not. Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Adam

I might not be able to sing like a Cantor, but I have Gifts to Offer! - Parasha T'rumah, Exodus 25:1-27:19 1 Kings 5:26-6:13

I have to reveal a little secret, I am a Cantor want-a-be. The Rabbinical school I went to had a Cantorial department, and I can recall walking through the halls stopping to listen to their singing, but more than that their voices.  Today, many of those same people are in their respective synagogues, and thanks to the ability to stream or join via Zoom I can still enjoy listening and praying with them.  But this is the neat part, yes they sing traditional melodies that touch the Jewish neshama, but they also create new ones, new tunes that make those all too familiar prayers and songs creative, exciting and fresh.  They use their creative abilities to build a sense of the holy as they lead us in prayer, thank you my friends!    We find the idea of creativity in this week’s parasha, T’rumah, regarding the acts of this people who left Egypt.  It was the people who were self motivated to gave gifts (t’rumah) from their own wealth, albeit wealth they took from Egypt, to provide the needed materials to build the Mishkan, or the Tabernacle that traveled with them in the wilderness. The Mishkan would stand in the midst of the people, the place where they would gather together for worship and prayer, the place of sacrifice and ritual, a place where the mundane of daily living was held in contrast to the beauty and holiness of this sacred space; part of their transformation was about understanding the God in their midst differently from the gods of their past.  But we also read in a parasha two weeks from now that individual human creativity was part of this creative process.  Here we find that Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur and Oholiab son of Ahisamach were both endowed with the ability to create, both also being accredited for making designs from precious metals and woods; making everything from the Aron, the ark that carried the Ten Commandments, to the golden Menorah and the vestments the Priests would wear.  Human partnership with God and creative abilities were central to the building of this sacred space that traveled with them throughout the next forty years. As to the purpose of the Mishkan itself, the first thing we must notice is the words. It says of God in Exodus 25:8, “Make me a sanctuary and I will dwell in YOUR midst,” when really it should say “ITS midst.”  The Mishkan is not a them, it is an it so what gives?  Avigdor Shinan, who wrote “A New Israeli Commentary on Pirkei Avot,” writes that it is about the people not the place, where the Shekinah, the presence of the Divine, binds people to God “in times of joy’ (Sota 11a) but also “in times of crisis” (Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael, 12:13).  In the same way, Aviah Gottlieb Zornberg writes that the Mishkan is “a bayit (a house) that, ultimately, God and Moses are building” (in partnership, my words), teaching that it is “God’s desire to live among these Israelites, in their midst, within them.”  It should be mentioned that the Mishkan Shinan and Zornberg reflect on is mentioned seventeen times alone in this parasha whereas the word sanctuary (mikdash) from the verse above, Exodus. 25:8, is only mentioned once.  Looking at the Classical commentary of Ibn Ezra he provides the answer; "the Mishkan is called a mikdash (a sanctuary) because it is the tabernacle of the holy God."  In other words, it was not just an ordinary structure but a sacred space created by the people, a sanctuary (mikdash), where the community would connect with God. But it has further been pointed out that the Mishkan is more so the backdrop for the modern day synagogue after the fall of Jerusalem in 70CE as opposed to the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple that stood in Jerusalem; not once but twice.  We read in 1 Kings 8:27, “But will God really dwell on earth? Even the heavens to their uttermost reaches cannot contain You, how much less this House that I have built,” meaning can God really be confined to a single location?  There is a Jewish saying that comes to mind  here that is helpful, that saying being “ita’ruta d’letata,” which is commonly translated as an arousal from below.  Nowhere in Torah do we find a commandment to build individual Jewish houses of worship that we call synagogues more so than the synagogues are the creative response to the human longing for sacred space that was epitomized with the Temple.  One description of the synagogue is that it became “Jerusalem in exile, the home of the Jewish heart,” thus; the arousal of the Jewish heart fueled the building of the synagogues that we have today.  Why is it like the Mishkan and not the Beit Hamikdash?  The Beit Hamikdash was not mobile; it was confined to Jerusalem whereas the Mishkan, and later the synagogues (and temples), remind us that the presence of God can be found anywhere.  Back to my Cantor friends, I know it says do not covet, but hey, what can I say! But really it is just not them, it’s the nature of Jewish communities. The synagogues, or our temples, are gathering places where we can reflect on sacred moments and set the regularities of life aside for a bit.  This is why our synagogues must be sacred spaces with good and meaningful worship, not to mention places of learning and understanding, but they also must be places of Tikkun Olam, places that seek to better the world around us, places that stand as beacons of light and hope to the greater community in general, for members or not. The synagogue must be a place where families can instill Jewish values into their children, a place where our teenagers can grow together and young adults will find support as they venture into the world after College.  The synagogue is also a place to learn about spiritual things, be educated about the role of Judaism in our ever changing world, and to share the joys and unpredictability in life together as opposed to alone, a place where our seniors can continue to learn, contribute and feel valued as they age.  Whatever our communities are WE get to build them and use OUR creative talents and means along the way.  We all have a little bit of Bezalel and Oholiab in us, and even if our gifts are not the same, we all have a creative melody within whether we can sing like a Cantor or not. Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Adam

The Rebirth of Dignity - Parasha Mishpatim, Exodus 21:1-24:18, 30:11-16, 2 Kings 12:1-17

This week’s parasha, Mishpatim is a continuation of receiving laws (mishpatim) from God at Mt. Sinai (however you might understand that).  Nonetheless, we encounter a notable change in style from narrative to didactic, or from story to details. This parasha addresses civil/criminal matters, humanitarian instructions and assimilation issues, but also the nature of the Sefer HaBrit, the Book of the Covenant. In the end this is just not a commentary to the previous mitzvot (Ten Commandments), but "a Law with a human face” (Rabbi Jonathan Sacks).

We see this in the laws of lending money (Ex. 22:24-27). Here if the poor person’s only cloak is taken as collateral, because the lender coveted that particular piece of property (cf. Ex. 20:14), the lender is obligated to return it when the sun goes down or how else will the borrower keep warm at night?  Maimonides (Mishneh Torah) writes about this extensively saying that if a borrower gives his/her [only] pillow as a down payment but is needed for a good night sleep it must returned, in other words a lender “is not always entitled to maintain possession” (Hilchot Malveh Veloveh 3:5, also Duet. 24:3).  This is also why the Shabbat laws say from master to stranger or from free to slave each must experience rest on the Shabbat to be “refreshed” in addition to honoring creation (Ex. 23:12, Ex. 20:8-11).  If only the master and his family get to rest on Shabbat, but his servants and working animals cannot, where is the dignity of the mishpat (law) itself?

As such, the very first mishpat of Mishpatim reads “When you acquire a Hebrew slave …” (Ex. 21:2).  Consider the irony: the people receiving these instructions were newly freed slaves!  What did they think about slavery given their own experiences?  Keep in mind that when the Hebrew slaves were being beaten they could still respond to Moses (Ex. 2:12-13), but when they were demoralized by Pharaoh who made their labor even more burdensome, they could not even “listen” to Moses (Ex. 6:9).  In Egypt the slavery experienced was cruel, oppressive with harsh labor that involved beatings as noted. Slavery disrespected the very core of their humanity, and then this new law, really?  But was it the work itself, or was it about the cruelty of the Egyptians that took away their human dignity? In general masters and servants are well attested to in Torah (Abraham’s servant went to find his masters son, Isaac, a wife; Gen. 24).  Likewise, a Jew was permitted to sell themselves into servitude (slavery) if the situation called for it, although they must be treated properly (Leviticus 25:39-41; also see Maimonides’s Mishneh Torah, Slaves 1:1).  But what about this word slavery?

The JPS translation calls those to be purchased “slaves” whereas the Art Scroll version refers to them as “servants.”   The Hebrew word eved can be translated both ways, but is also interpreted based on context. So in Exodus 13:14 we read that Egypt for the Jews was called the “house of bondage” (avadim - same root as eved) as well as at Mt. Sinai (see Ex. 20:1), not to mention the Jewish view of Egypt found in the prophets, “I brought you up from the land of Egypt, I redeemed you from the house of bondage” (Micha 6:4).  But the eved in Egypt is different in Mishpahtim because they would experience the opposite.  In this case an eved was to be treated with dignity by their masters, given the right to leave after a set allotted time and allowed to keep what was theirs upon entering the slave contract. They were to be taken care of regarding the work environment with fair labor practices, but they could keep everything their master gave if a life-long commitment to remain the masters salve, or servant, was made.  This was not the perversion of servitude, or slavery, which was perpetrated by Pharaoh that strikes deep at the human heart and repulse’s us.  If anything Moses was attempting to right a wrong, just like employers cannot mistreat employees, even when the work can be back-breaking and tiring.

Moses was concerned about the rebirth of human dignity.  This law simply said a healthy community surely needs workers who will work at the direction of their bosses, but if a person’s dignity is taken away in the process it’s like going back to Egypt.  In the Talmud (Berachot 16b) it says that “one may not refer to slaves and maidservants as father so-and-so or mother so-and-so. But in the house of Rabban Gamliel they were worthy to have the names 'father so-and-so' and 'mother so-and-so.'”  In other words it was about dignity not designation. Yes they were slaves, but they were mothers and fathers first, they came from families and families they created, they were not defined by what they did but who they were.  We are not supposed to be defined but what we do, how much money we have, what type of house or car we drive, religion, sexual preference, the color of our skin and so forth.  How many times have I met others who are embarrassed to reveal who they are because of the fear of being looked at poorly.

I remember a number of years ago in New York I took part in a support rally for the mistreatment of overnight office cleaners regarding fair wages and amble benefits, something that was about a better quality of life and human dignity.  Maybe this is why we have such a mental health crisis today or why so many struggle with self-worth and the like?  I would say that physical pain is more tolerable than emotional pain that is tied in to having your dignity ripped from before you, even if in ignorance, something that helps to drive the epidemics that we find in our society today.  Next week we enter the month of Adar and will celebrate Purim, a holiday to remind us that Jewish dignity was preserved!  The laws (mishpahtim) of Torah seek to do the same and just not set up a bunch of arbitrary rules. 

Shabbat Shalom and upcoming Chodesh Adar Tov,
Rabbi Adam 
 

Embracing our Idenity - Parasha Yitro, Exodus 18:1-20:23

This week’s parasha is called Yitro, Yitro was a Midian Priest and Moses’ father-in-law.  The parasha begins with Yitro instructing Moses about the administrative issue of delegation in creating a system of government that would help rule and guide the people. Yet this parasha also establishes the identity of a community that stands together as one people at Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah.  The two are related as follows. The Jews who came out of Egypt were beholden to a hierarchical system that subjugated those below them, in particular its slaves, to their power and rule.  At Sinai, where we all stand this week, the power system of rule and law is vastly different based on a sense of equality and equity, these Jews were to become partner’s with God as opposed to being slaves to the gods, embracing a new station in life.  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks teaches that this new way was distinctive because these people would  “receive its laws before its land.”  He further says that since Israel “became a nation prior to attaining those elements of statehood,” such as a land or an organized army, even when they “lost their land and sovereignty – Jews did not cease to be a nation.”  In the same way Israel, the Jewish people, would receive its identity and purpose not based on location but on an idea of existence. We therefore read in Exodus 19:6 that the Jewish people who stood at Mt. Sinai, and for that matter every generation that followed to include our own, would be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”  Beginning with the latter, “a holy nation,” what does that mean?

The first time we see the word “holy” is back in Genesis 2:3 when after the final day of creation, the Shabbat, it is “sanctified” by God, or made holy, something that we recite every Erev Shabbat during the Kiddush.  In this case the day (noun) is made holy (verb) when God rests after creation.  The difference between the Shabbat and the other six days of the week is in its classification (made holy) and activity not its superiority; a day is a day after all, mundane or sacred. Conversely, when Israel is called a “holy nation,” the word holy (adjective) describes what type of nation (noun) Israel would be. It must be understood that this is about a collective identity and not just the individual, which is why the likes of Bernie Madoff, Harvey Weinstein or Jeffery Epstein are a black eye for all Jews, because we are not an Island.  Also, being holy is not being perfect, that is not possible to achieve. So for Maimonides it’s about behavior (Guide to the Perplexed 3:8), also alluded to in the Talmud (Yerushalmi, Chagigah) that says, “Would they abandon me, but keep my Torah,” meaning that if Torah is kept the keeper will emulate God's values even if he/she turns their back on God.   For R’Sacks being holy is defined as “making space for God,” allowing the ways of Torah to guide this nation, this people, in all areas of life whether worship, legal, social justice, relational, values, business or what have. Israel was to be a people that made room to let the ways of God vis-à-vis the Torah define the nation as opposed to a mere king or ruler, embracing a sense of “Other” at the core of their peoplehood.

What about a “kingdom of priests.”   Here we have to look at the priesthood of the nation in a different way than the family of Aaron who were Priests.  Aaron and his sons had a job as Priests to oversee the functioning of the Mishkan (later the Temple) in terms of religious activity, the execution of the sacrifices, orderliness and cleanliness of the sacred space itself, not to mention everything in between; although uniquely they made sure the Law was carried out correctly (later replaced by the Rabbis), but most of all they were servants of the people.  But the inception of the Aaronic Priesthood (Ex. 28: 1-4) came after the people were called a “kingdom of priests,” so how did it differ?  In the Torah, and for that matter the bible, Israel was to stand upon the reality of a monotheistic God and bring that to the nations in a priestly fashion (cf. Ex. 19:6, Dt. 7:6, Is. 2:3 and 61:6), the Sfrono teaching they were to be “a kingdom of priests, by teaching and instructing all of mankind to call out in the name of God and for all to serve together.”  Returning to the teaching of R’Sacks he makes the point that the Priests were literate, they had to be able to read and understand the Law for the sake of the people, but also themselves, yet the nation also had to understand the Law or how could they be called “disciples of the LORD” (Is. 54:13; cf. in Ex. 24:7 Moses “read” the Torah to the people).  Here, Israel became partners with God not only because of what they would come to know but what they would do, both knowing and doing made them priests regardless of what family they belonged to.  

The designation of being “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” is the Jewish mission statement that continues to guide our community as partners with God.  As a “holy nation” we are like the Kadosh Kedoshim, the Holy of Holies in the Temple, making space in an empty room were the Presence of the Divine dwells.  Thus we too must make space to allow our human goodness rooted in the Divine Image to embrace our priestly functions, hence a “kingdom of priests.” Therefore, if so, can we care for the sick, feed the poor, lobby for the weak and destitute, give finances from cancer research to buying socks for the homeless, help at a soup kitchen or battered women’s’ shelter, let alone find value in our own religious and family traditions when life's demands fill up our inner rooms of capacity; almost like a personal tzizum (contraction) we have to make space for self, family and others.  Is this not what we celebrate on Tu’Bishvat in part, connecting to the earth and its creation, in the world of Assiyah, whereas in the world Briyah we help create a better way of life for all.  As Jews, and Jewish communities, we are a part of a larger structure of purpose regardless of our diversity which is why we are reminded here of our identity.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam 

Let Your Freedom Sing - Parasha BaShalach 13:17-17:16

Every week day, three times a day in our Tifilot (prayers) we recall Mitzraim (Egypt), praying twice a day the Mi Chamocha prayer (Who is like God) from the Shirat HaYam (Song of the Sea) that comes from this week’s parasha, BaShalach.  But also when we do the Kiddush on the Shabbat we further remember leaving Egypt, because the week is like Egypt when we are beholden to responsibility, obligations and labor, but the Shabbat is a day we are are free if we choose to be so.  As such, the centerpiece of BaShalach is the parting Sea of Reeds (Ex. 14:21-31), and the following song called Shirat HaYam was sung by the Hebrews after they crossed and their pursuers - Pharaoh and his army - perished.  Of course during our Passover Seders we not only celebrate this great deliverance but we call upon our compassion at the loss of life.  But why did they sing, sing, and sing some more in response to the Sea and not their witness of the power of the plagues?  Simply, now they were truly free!  Still, as we shall see, this song is really only the first installment of an arduous transformation from slavery to freedom!  

Regarding the parting of the Sea of Reeds we are challenged as it reveals two accounts.  First, it is supernatural; Moses raised his staff over the sea so that the water divided at the behest of God only to reveal the dry ground that the Hebrew’s walked on, but when the waters returned to normal, the Egyptians tried to cross and were drowned (Ex. 14:15).  And second, it was a natural occurrence; this included a myth that Moses called upon the east winds to naturally push the waters aside, yet for those people the only way that they could comprehend what took place, kind of like with a rainbow, was to call it a miracle attributed to God’s power (Ex. 14:21).  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks does not see the problem with either saying a “miracle is not necessarily something that suspends natural law” and therefore still “evokes wonder” even for the ardent disbeliever a sense “that God has intervened in history.”  R’Sacks further says that the story of the parting of the Reed Sea was “something other and deeper than a suspension of the laws of nature. It was a transformative moment where the people ‘believed in the Lord and in Moses God’s servant’ (Ex. 14:31).”  On one hand we learn in the Midrash (Ex. R. 23) that when they crossed the Sea in that moment the celestial throne of God was revealed to the people, whereas on the other hand, according to the Talmud (Shabbat 35b) the miracle of the sea was not the point more so than God suspended natural law on Israel’s behalf. It’s all about perspective.   

But Jewish tradition also teaches that this miracle is just a beginning.  Also from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 91a) we learn that a particular Hebrew word from Exodus suggests that this song would be repeated often.  Rabbi Yochanan asks; why is it not written with a past tense verb since they sang it before it was written down?  It says that Moses and the Children of Israel “will sing,” ya’shir, and not they “sang,” “shar,” suggesting that this song will be sung more than once, with Rashi teaching that the future tense and the past tense in general means this song takes place “continuously” (Rashi on Ex. 15:1).  Here the encounters with this wonder is repeated where every generation will have the opportunity to triumphantly sing the Shirat Hayam as they too break away from their own generational tyrant’s (physical or otherwise) to embrace a beneficent God who would “reign for ever and ever” (Ex. 15:18). 

Digging into the Shirat HaYam a bit more the Hebrew word, ya’shir, “I will sing” similarly shares the same Hebrew letters as the word ya’shar, which means to go “straight.”  The future meaning of the verb “to sing” meant that the song had everything to do with tomorrow, not looking back at the slavery of yesterday but only at the freedom straight in front of them; but as noted this was only the first installment of its meaning. In other words, the Hebrews freedom did not mean that there would never be another Pharaoh, just like the plagues did not rid the world of hate; it meant it could be different.  This is what it says in Psalm 27; “The LORD is my light and my help; whom should I fear?... should an army besiege me, my heart would have no fear; should war beset me I still would be confident.”  

While history waits for a world of no hate and shame, and the ability to conquer the darkness before us, it can be different because of how we chose to behold it.  We do not have to be a slave to anyone any longer, because our inter beings can be free the moment we also cross whatever sea is before us, letting our freedom sing!  In closing, when I say “Blessed are You O Lord our God for making me free” in morning prayers I always ask if that true.  Am I free from the unhealthy constraints and limitations that life wants to place on me, seeking to hinder me from being the best version of myself, to be the best Jew I can be, husband, father, friend, Rabbi and so on?  Being free takes work, something that is more a mind set that we can control as opposed to what others do to us. The Hebrews were being given that opportunity at the sea, so they sang. We are given the opportunities as well, opportunities to sing and embrace our freedoms.  This is why this Shabbat is also called Shabbat Sira, the Shabbat of song! 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam