Parashat Yayakhel-Pekudei - But if we can’t gather who should we blame?

                                                               רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Yayakhel-Pekudei 

Exodus 35:1-40:38

By Adam Ruditsky

     In Yayakhel-Pekudei Moses gathered (he gathered, ויקהל, yayahhel) all Israel together to give an  “accounting of” (פקודי, pekudei) of what happened during the construction of the Mishkan.  We need to approach this parsha differently given the realities of today, therefore this Torah has a universal message, and is just not for us Jews.  The fact is we cannot gather together right now, yet we must still give an accounting of our doings.
     Each day there is an overabundance of fear inciting news, showing panic buying with long lines at markets, giving potential virus numbers by city, state, country and beyond, anxieties exist over sweeping changes as a potential lockdown looms if it has not already occurred, with many of our mothers and fathers being told not to leave their homes.  Of course we cannot put our heads in the sand either, tuning out important information also in the news regarding conduct, safety, instructions and so forth.  I do however need to break my own rule by doing what I avoid in these Drashrot (teachings), or when I speak in public where my motto is “we can talk about issues but not politics.”  We all know our country is very divided politically, and in particular over President Donald Trump, but this crisis has brought out some things that stand diametrically opposed to not only Jewish values, but human ones as well.  In Judaism we oppose
הבריות  שנאת (s’nat habriot), the hatred of people, and value פיקוח נפש (pikuach nefesh) or saving a life.  I have read on social media over the past few days (true or not is no matter, it is posted) that there are people who want this virus to cause personal harm to Donald Trump or hurt others in order to impact Trumps re-election.  Taking account for self, orחשבון הנפש  (chesbon hanefesh), has everything to do with how we react, and we must resist the possibility and/or temptation to disintegrate into a fear driven behavior that can be spiteful or hateful.  This type of situation no doubt tests our humanity in terms of reaction, but also in hope and resolve.
     A such, Yayakhel-Pekudei are the final two parshiyot of five that are dedicated to the building of the Mishkan, but it is much more than that.  The children of Israel were asked to give of their gold, silver, silk, wool and other valuables to help with the construction of everything associated with the Mishkan till the following was said in Exodus 36:6-7: “And Moses gave commandment, and they caused it to be proclaimed throughout the camp, saying: 'Let neither man nor woman make any more work for the offering of the sanctuary.' So the people were restrained from bringing. For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work.”   While the generation that came out of slavery were often guided by fear, and understandably complained here or there, the Mishkan gave them something to invest in and represented the resolve of their immediate future hopes.  In the midst of this construction a man rose up named B’tzalel (בצלאל, a shadow of God), a man filled with God’s presence and wisdom according to Exodus 35:31, taking from the people’s abundance to help create objects in the Mishkan such as the Aron (the Ark that held the stone tablets), the Shulchan, (the table for the show bread) and the Menorah (that was to remain lit perpetually).
     In this case B’tzalel, along with Oholiav (אהליאב) and others called כל חכם לב (Chol chacham layv, or wise of heart ), participated in the construction of the Mishkan for the sake of God in the physical world.  B’tzalel however was a man of a notable lineage identified not only by his father but also his grandfather Hur (cf. Ex. 35:30), Hur descending from the lineage of Miriam according to Rashi, a man that we read about in the Talmud who was killed for opposing the sin of the Golden Calf (cf. BT Sotah 11b).  Yet B’tzalel was not only a man of famed lineage but a man who was chosen for a purpose because he also stood for the ways of God in his world (Midrash, Exodus R. 48:3).  Referring back to Genesis 1:27 that says, “And God created man in His own image, in the image of God; male and female God created them,” we learn the following.  The Chofetz Chaim teaches that “Derech Eretz kadmah l’Torah,” or the proper way to act that proceeded the arrival the Torah (and creation of the physical world), means that one who possess “daat Torah,” or Torah religion, is capable of solving all the world’s problems both in general and in particular since they are created in God’s image.  B’tzalel is a man who can been seen in that light, raising up as a “shadow of God” with that understanding of “daat Torah,” using the inspired human gift of creation in his case to help create the beauty of the Mishkan.  Likewise, I do not think it is an oversimplification to say that a person (or persons) in this world will rise up as a creator and respond by finding a vaccine and treatment for this COVID-19 virus that has invaded our planet.  Yeah, I guess some may see that as a naive pie in the sky “God” based belief, I get that.  But for me this is about that sense of human hope and resolve, something rooted in our God given resiliency during seasons of crisis when the chosen best will rise up, looking beyond and within at times of need.
     We cannot gather right because of a virus that cannot yet be controlled, but assigning blame as opposed to a constructive criticism of concern, accomplishes nothing.  We can however give an accounting for how we elect to carry ourselves.  It is important that we use our abilities to stay relationally connected in order to lift each other up while steering clear of harmful and thoughtless behaviors.  I want to be a part of the כל חכם לב (Chol chacham layv), or wise of heart, that seek a solution; something we can all contribute to in our own way.  The Mishkan represented a sign of newness for a people who were in the middle of the wilderness where God would “will dwell among them.”  Likewise we too are in a wilderness of sorts, also seeking God in one way or another, calling upon the ideas of hope and resolve while looking for a sense of normalcy.  We cannot escape our wilderness right now, so we must love and support each other with care and patience.  Therefore, hold those who you love close, avoid שנאת הבריות (s’nat habriot), the hatred of people, pray for answers and healing, and treat others the way you want to be treated simply because it is the right thing to do. That is the Torah’s medicine for the spirit. חזק ונתחזיק  חזק (Chazak Chazak, v’nitchazek), Be strong, be strong, and may we be strengthened!
                                                         

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Ki Tisa - Houston, we have a Problem!

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Ki Tisa

Exodus 30:11-34:35

By Adam Ruditsky

     

     After a benign beginning, Parashat Ki Tisa becomes very messy with a host of problems that need explanation.  The biggest one, which aside from touching on we are going to largely skip in this drash, is the story of the Golden Calf that was one of Israel’s worst collective sins.  A challenge with this parsha is that there is so much to say given its many themes.  Still, as we shall see, each word is connected to the next although for us we will look primarily at the temple tax (30:13-16), the Shabbat (31:12-17) and the crown of the covenant (33:4-6).

     In the beginning of this parsha Ki Tisa (כי תשא) we read, כי תשא את ראש בנ ישראל (ki tisa et rosh b’nai Yisrael).  While ki tisa (כי תשא) literally means “for you will lift up,” the expanded phrase  כי תשא את ראש בנ ישראל  is translated  “when you take a census of the children of Israel,” (lit. when you left up each head of the children of Israel).  The census itself was carried out by the way of taxation, but not a tax system that is based on different percentages for the poor, middle class, upper class and the extreme upper class, but העשיר לו ירבה והדל לא ימעיט, “the wealthy will not give more and the poor will not give less,” each giving half a shekel.  The point of this tax is the equality of each person regardless of their station in life, as each stood before God at Mt Sinai and said, “all that God has spoken we will do.”  Each person was to take responsibility for their own conduct based upon their spoken declaration of fidelity to the covenant, the tax just affirmed that.  The tax itself was to “atone for your souls,” which for Rashi was an opportunity to help build what was sacred in their midst regarding the Mishkan, a way of giving to one’s own personal conviction as opposed to an atonement like on Yom Kippur.  Yet then we read that those who did not obligate themselves to that affirmation, in particular to keeping the Shabbat, would be put to death; that seems incredibly harsh (cf. Ex. 31:14).  Again appealing to Rashi, he teaches that this has to do with a lack of sanctity (holiness).  Rabbi Elie Munk, a modern voice, says this is a crime of a religious nature against the keeping of the Shabbat that is a “moral sin.”  Rabbi Munk continues to teach that the one who breaks the Shabbat has “excluded [themselves], spiritually speaking, from the fellowship of [the] people by betraying [the] mission and [the] ideal of holiness.”  Holding that up next to the idolatry of the Golden Calf just does seem right, but death for some wrongs is not just physical.  Still, the nature and purpose of Shabbat was not just a day, but a symbol of a people who generation to generation would be “anointed” to be a  “kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (see Ex 19:6 and from this parsha 30:31); Rashi teaching that this anointing still “exists for the future” of the Jewish people, meaning symbolically that applies to us today.  Anointing is a ritual of consecration to something, in this case Torah and its values, which is connected to the “crown” that was removed after Israel’s sin with the Golden Calf.
     The word “crown” is normally written as כתר (keter) although in Ki Tisa from 33:4 it is from עדי (adi), which not only has been translated as crown, but also as ornament or finery.  Although the word עדי (adi) has a broader meaning than just a crown per se that sits upon a head, Rashi reflecting on Shabbat 88a, calls עדיו (edyo, lit. his crown) from 33:4 כתרים (k’tarim) that means “crowns.”  Above it was restated that when Israel stood before God at Mt Sinai and received the initial commandments they all said, “what God has spoken we will do.”  In Shabbat 88a we read that מלאכי השרת (malacai hasharet), ministering angels, came upon Israel at that moment because they replied נעשה לנשמע (na’aseh l’nishma), we will do for we will hear, to what was commanded.  As their reward the מלאכי השרת wove two-crowns (כתרים, k’tarim) to place upon the heads of the Israelites that day; one crown being for נעשה (we will do) and the other being for לנשמע (we will hear).  Yet, as a result of Israel’s sin with the Golden Calf, Shabbat 88a also says that this time מלכאי חבלה (malacai chabalah),  angels of destruction, came and removed NOT the כתרים, BUT עדים (edyam, their ornaments), perhaps suggesting that what was removed was much greater than just a physical crown itself.  The crown (עדי and not כתר) really can be connected with last week and the idea of the scared garments of conviction that the High Priest wore, and by extension all of Israel who were called to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”  In this week’s parsha the crowns were removed after the sin of the Golden Calf because Israel made the choice in that moment to remove their communal garments of conviction that made them who they were to be, symbolized by the warning regarding the desecration of the Shabbat with its stated results being death, to which we said was just not physical.  What happened with the Golden Calf was a result of not standing upon their declaration of נעשה לנשמע” (na’aseh l’nishma; we will do to we will hear), not listening to their inner convictions and as a result lost the reward of their crowns/ornaments/finery.
     Now, I am going to add the following.  Yes, our tradition sees the Golden Calf as one of Israel’s most egregious sins, but that is not what had them wondering for 40 years.  God is also not a task master, they had one of those in Egypt, and to see what happened as God being punitive with a people who just came out of Egypt and were being transformed into a free people I think is a poor way to see this story.  The God of this story is the God we pray to on Yom Kippur that is “merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth; keeping mercy unto the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (cf. Ex. 34:6-7).  The standards of Torah that includes laws and practices in this parsha touches upon having no other gods and the Shabbat (see Ex. 20:3,8), but also new laws for the practices of Shavuot and Passover are mentioned (cf. Ex. 34:22, 25).  We learn in this parsha that each person (i.e. the temple tax) was not to turn their back on the idea of נעשה לנשמע, and again looking at it as egalitarian despite how it is written, every person had the potential of corrupting the garments of holiness and therefore losing the crowns of their reward.
     The mindful laws and practices of mind, body and spirit today, as they were then, are for our benefit to help the process of נעשה לנשמע, but if a person elects to act otherwise there can be unwanted consequences.  Putting that another way, I read that as “you made your bed now lay in it,” which I understand to mean that my poor choices can lead to bad results, yet while often redeemable, I may still have to pay the price as well.  Like I said, this is a messy parsha, but so is being human.

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Tetzaveh - These Garments are to be seen as Egalitarian for a Reason!

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Tetzaveh

Exodus 27:20-30:10

By Adam Ruditsky

     Tetzaveh (you will command) finds Moses instructing the people of Israel regarding the continued construction of the Mishkan and specifically about the הבגדים (hab’b’gadim or the garments) that Aaron the High Priest would wear as he stood before God on Israel’s behalf.  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks teaches when the High Priest wore these garments they carried a message that “was to be a signal of transcendence to himself (so that Aaron saw himself as) a living symbol of the Divine Presence in the midst of the nation.”  However, seeking to confront this male dominated text about the Cohanim (Priests), Rabbis Sara Paasche-Orlow and Leah Lewis offer suggestions how to better approach this parsha in today’s Jewish egalitarian world. 

     As far R’Paasche-Orlow, she calls these garments a  “message of equality between men and women.”  Although mentioned in the context of Tachrichim, or the gender neutral white burial shroud, for Paasche-Orlow the real equality of men and women begin in the home that evokes “a more egalitarian model” than the Temple of old.  In this case the home replaced the Temple whereas the Shabbat Table replaced the alter, with the husband and wife dressed in their Shabbat הבגדים, replacing the role of the Temple based Cohanim.  Not intended to separate singles or same-sex couples in anyway, Paasche-Orlow makes her point by looking to the roles of a husband and wife on Shabbat.  As such, it is the wife for the sake of the family who is given the honor each week to kindle the lights that welcome in the Shabbat “continuously,” just as the Cohanim were tasked with the duties of keeping the ner talmid burning “continuously.”  The priesthood symbolize a more egalitarian Jewish practice as well as service, or avodah.  R’Lewis approaches the הבגדים, or the garments differently, here evoking the idea of anavah (ענוה), or humility.  One the one hand, the High Priest stood before the entire assembly of Israel bearing upon his chest the חשן (the choshen or breastplate) with its 12 different kinds but equally sized stones that represented each tribe.  For Aaron, leading the ritual life of Israel took anavah, because if he forgot his place it could lead to an “inflated sense of self” if not careful.  On the other hand, this was also a test of anavah for all of Israel.  The 12 stones on the choshen had no center, no stone was more important than the next, each tribe had its rightful place as part of the whole.  In this case, both for the High Priest and the entire assembly of Israel, the lesson of anavah called for a “divine balance” that means “no more and no less” in attitude and behavior.  So while one view was about avodah (service), and the other about anavah (humility), each emerged from the meaning of the Priestly garb.
     Rashi and Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, although not writing from an egalitarian Jewish world-view, certainly add to the spiritual “message of equality between men and women” if we chose to read them that way.  Regarding the choshen then, which is first mentioned in Exodus 28:4, we read that it would be a part of the High Priests בגד קדש, or Holy Garments.  Rashi spends and extensive amount of time explaining how these garments were donned by the High Priest, and regarding the choshen, Rashi simply notes that it was attached to the Ephod with a chain on either side and hung “over the High Priest in front of him.”  But when the choshen is first mentioned Rashi says that it was an “ornament worn opposite the heart.”  Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik teaches that the choshen was a part of the greater character of the High Priest that included “intelligence and knowledge” as well as “love and affection of Israel.”  However regarding the choshen itself, Soloveitchik teaches that it worn “on Aaron’s heart” as opposed to Rashi who said that it was worn “opposite the heart.
     I think it is worth noting, even if simplistically, that the distinction between opposite and on can be significant.  Opposite can still be detached from; hence you have two random people sitting “opposite” of each other in a specific waiting room only because they share the same doctor.  On denotes partnership with; a certain couple is discussing an important matter of life, which requires their unity even if not full agreement, as they need to make sure that together they are both “on” the same page.  Sure you can read these words in different ways, but in this drash the action that is produced which comes from the heart should not be “opposite” from each other, but like the relationship between keva (the fixed prayers) and kavanah (the inward attention of the one praying) they are dependent “on” each other.

     This idea of “on” or “opposite” that came from the teachings of Rashi and Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik can be read as egalitarian because we all put on garments of one kind or another. According to Rabbi Sara Paasche-Orlow the garments are about the equality of avodah (service) between men and women.  According to Rabbi Leah Lewis the garments are about anavah (humility) in how we all carry ourselves.  Whether for personal, professional, spiritual or social, interactions and/or relationships, we all wear garments of conviction that can help us to transcend every situation with proper attitudes and behaviors.  Last week we talked about יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבּוֹ (yid’d’vehnu libo), a heart that motivates us to do the right thing, and the right thing finds its voice in garments that are sacred.  For Judaism that is just not reserved for the ways of the Rabbi or the Cantor, but for every person, hence Israel was called in Torah מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים, וְגוֹי קָדוֹש, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.  This is why these garments are to be seen as Egalitarian, meaning that no matter your identity or identification, each of us is cloaked with a garment of conviction.  The mindful key to the garments of our Priesthood; they just do not exist as opposite of who we are, but they are to be worn on our hearts, acting in tandem with whom we strive to become.   

Shabbat Shalom!                   

Parashat T'rumah - Values and Motivations

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat T'rumah

Exodus 25:1-27:19

By Adam Ruditsky

     Last week in Mishpatim Israel encountered laws of behavior, and this week in T’rumah, they are being asked to consider their values and motivations when they do them.  In particular, Israel is being encouraged to consider the reasons for giving the gifts (תרומה, t'rumah) of their possessions in order to help build the Mishkan in the wilderness.  More than that, it hits the sensitive area of personal finances and how they are allocated, something that speaks just as loudly to us today as it did back then.
     For our drash, the main flow of T’rumah is about a people who are asked to build a physical location to connect with their God (1) with the right motivation of heart to do so by (2) giving of their material resources.  Keep in mind that until this point Abraham met God on a mountain, Rebecca met God in her tent, Jacob wrestled with an angel of God at the river of Jabbok and Moses met God at a bush in the land of Midian; so why build a physical location to connect with God?  The Mishkan served Israel by providing away for the entire community to meet with God while at the same time allowing each individual to ritualize an encounter with their own sense of the Divine.  But why does Israel need to limit God to a Mishkan when their ancestors did not?  Rabbi Sharon Sobel in the Women’s Torah Commentary teaches that the physical nature of the Mishkan (and later the Temple) was a place for sacred rituals, sacrifice and prayer, not for God mind you, but it was “a concession to humankind and provides a visible focus for the idea of God’s indwelling.”  Making meaning of something that no longer exists can be found in the Talmud itself when Rava teaches that the symbolism of the Ark, which was in the Mishkan to hold the Ten commandments, was covered by gold “inside and outside” to teach that the inside of a Sage’s wisdom was to be reflected outwardly (B Talmud, Yoma 72b).  The beauty of the inside and the outside of the Ark in the Mishkan can symbolically reflect our inside nature that manifests its fruits in how we live outwardly.
     This inside and outside approach to T’rumah foundationally is a matter of free-will that has everything to do with the values and motivations pertaining to the choices of behavior.  So, when Moses speaks to Israel about giving their gifts (or behavior) of material possessions and/or wealth (values) to help build the Mishkan (motivation), he further says it should be done יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבּוֹ (yid’d’vehnu libo), or by “whose heart will motivate” a person to do so.  Rashi says that this is speaking about a person’s “expression of good will,” whereas Mussar Rabbi Joseph Meszler writes that this is about being “generous of heart,” and just not a heart that is simply “motivated.”  Yet how might we understand יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבוֹ (yid’d’vehnu libo) and the place of the heart?  In Jeremiah we read two connected concerns about the heart of a person.  In Jeremiah 4:4 we read “Circumcise yourselves to the LORD, and take away the foreskins of your heart,” and in Jeremiah 17:9 we also read, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and it is exceeding weak--who can know it?”  A person’s middah (character) is given health by the heart, which Jeremiah wants his readers to know can be deceitful if not circumcised spiritually to fulfill its goodness, something that has to do with choice.  Just as the Mishkan served the entire community and the individual so too does the idea of a circumcised heart (cf. Deut. 10:16 and 30:6).  This circumcision however is gender neutral/spiritual, which is why Jeffrey Tigay from the JPS Commentary on Deuteronomy writes, this “blockage” of heart (see Rashi) is circumcised in order to “remove impediments that prevent Israel from voluntarily following God’s teachings.”  Impediments can be many but they are internally driven; fear, anger, lack of forgiveness or greed, yet in a positive way the tearing away of those impediments will produce thankfulness, generosity, forgiveness or compassion.  Therefore, in the Aramaic Targum Jonathan, the interpretation of יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבּוֹ (yid’d’vehnu libo) from Exodus 25:2 says, “of every one whose heart is willing, but not by constraint,” meaning by control or limitation.  In the Talmud, Bava Batra 8b, the Gemara says that a person may not be “coerced” into giving, and in the Tosafot of Cullin 110b, we further read that a Rabbinical court cannot use physical means to “enforce” the positive commandment of charity from the Torah.  All that to say that a “person’s expression of good will” reflects the good nature of a person’s free-will to give based on motivations that supports their values.  In Torah, the heart is the seat of both.
     Let me ask a question;  Is it a wrong, or a bad motivation, to give a substantial donation to a cancer wing of a hospital for the primary purpose of a tax benefit as opposed to the patients themselves?  This is a question about a givers choice that is based on the idea of values and motivations.  The fact is that the above question is not an either/or but a both/and, and it is a good thing to personally benefit from a good deed that blesses others.  This is what Perkei Avot 4:17 can be interpreted to mean when it says the crown that is greater than money and accomplishments is that of  “a good name,” which in Torah language reflects a good heart.   Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes that “the Temple was intended to stand as the heart, geographical and spiritual, of a nation that had been taken by God from slavery to freedom.”   The motivations of these former slaves was to be based on their values of freedom, and when they were asked to give, it was to be from a heart of free choice to erect in their midst what was of value to them.  I think T’rumah is asking us to also consider our values and motivations of our heart when as people we are asked to give or lend assistance, albeit via our money or our time.  Such is the words of Proverbs that says, “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.”

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Mishpatim - Hearing what cannot be Seen

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Mishpatim

Exodus 21:1-24:8

By Adam Ruditsky

     

    Rabbi Jonathan Sacks refers to this parsha, Mishpatim, as Israel meeting with “God in the details” of the commandments they received at Mt. Sinai in Yitro.  Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz teaches this parsha is also an outgrowth of Mt. Sinai that is about מנוחת הנפש, m’nuchat hanefesh,  translated to mean “equanimity,” or the balance of character within one’s self.  The relationship between Yitro and Mishpatim for Rashi is אף אלו מסיני, or “so these too, are from Sinai,” making them mutually related.  Per last week, this is the other side of the mountain, which begins with giving laws about behavior.
     Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz writes that the laws of Mishpatim include “all sorts of human ills and remedies,” laws that cover the areas of “murder, property damage, theft, self-defense, loans, judicial process, and more.”  While sure those laws reflect the story of Jews from another age, with the values of their time, they are applicable for us simply because law governs society, or we have chaos.  But for Rabbi Nancy Fuchs-Kreimer it is not just about law, but “the central laws and judgments that are required of the Jewish people are not presented in a biblical book called ‘Laws,’ but rather they appear as an integral part of the story about the departure of Egypt,” which are in a book called “Shemot,” or names, making it about people.  There are a few laws that are not included in this section of Torah that would seem even more central in defining a person’s behavior.  From Leviticus 19 we read, “Thou shalt not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself: I am the LORD” (cf. Lev. 19:18); or, “Thou shalt rise up before the silver head, and honor the face of the old man, and thou shalt fear thy God: I am the LORD (cf. Lev. 19:32).  Can we really say that the laws of Mishpatim are about do’s and don’ts whereas the laws of Leviticus are about the ethics of a person’s middah, or their innate character, in the treatment of others?
     In Mishpatim we read a ‘do and do not’ law that says, “And a stranger shalt thou not wrong, neither shalt thou oppress him; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt” (cf. Ex. 22:20).  Turning back to the “ethical character” laws of Leviticus 19 we further read, “The stranger that sojourneth with you shall be unto you as the home-born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” (cf. Lev. 19:34).  In this case while the laws of Mishpatim are more so about do’s and don’ts, the above verse about strangers from Leviticus can teach us that do’s and don’ts themselves are rooted in the ethical nature of character.  In the Talmud, Berachot 33b, we read that having compassion in prayer is like having mercy for the bird’s nest, the nest representing lives that should be preserved.  If caring for the stranger is merely a matter of law above the ethical character of mercy then the law itself is ineffectual. We see this today, whether on the southern border of the United Sates or immigration laws for particular select countries, hence law’s that are not tempered with mercy as well as order can lead to dire circumstances.
     Appealing to the Talmud once more, in this case Bava Metzia 59a, we read “It is taught in a baraita that Rabbi Eliezer the Great says: For what reason did the Torah issue warnings in thirty-six places, and some say in forty-six places, with regard to causing any distress to a convert?”  We can glean from this that in Mishpatim a people freed from tyranny need to be reminded of their freedom from slavery, or perhaps they would return to a slave-like-behavior mentality in their treatment of others who are now strangers in their midst.  Tikkun HaMiddot, or the fixing of characters, needs laws, but law without mercy is like slavery all over again.  Here in Mishpatim when we read, “a stranger shalt thou not oppress; for ye know the heart of a stranger,” is that so?  Do we recall being oppressed (whatever that means to you) when we treat others that way, allowing our treatment of another to be no more than words on a page?  Don’t hear that wrong, the law is the law and words on a page are important.  Yet, Torah based law is not just about adherence out of obligation, but ultimately it illuminates ones middah that will reflect the nature of their good character; the opposite being that without a moral or ethical law it also illuminates ones middah but in a negative way.
     To end, I want to quote Rabbi Nancy Fuchs-Kreimer once again who says, “many of the things that happen to us in life are not optional, but we do get to choose whether we want to remember them.”  Here, we remember law as opposed to chaos, freedom of will as opposed to the slavery of being, and a character that treats others in a way that we want to be treated ourselves.  R’Yanklowitz said that Mishpatim in relationship to Yitro is about מנוחת הנפש (m’nuchat hanefesh) in order to achieve “balance” of middah, a balance that is also between our encounter with the sacred and our daily behavior.   In so doing we learn to hear the inner voice of our middah that cannot be seen, but its impact to self and others will be felt, both for the good but if neglected for the bad.

Shabbat Shalom!           

Parashat Yitro - The Mystery of the Mountain

     

רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Yitro

Exodus 18:1-20:36

By Adam Ruditsky

     Although a little longer than normal, I would like to approach this week’s Torah parsha, Yitro, differently.  In this case, I want to look beyond the words, and in particular connect with the image of Mt. Sinai.  In the Zohar we read that when Moses approached Mt. Sinai he knew that it was the mountain of God and was subsequently drawn to it.  In fact, Rav Yosi taught that Moses and the mountain had been prepared for each other at creation; the mountain was the place where Moses would see God and where God would meet with Moses (Zohar, Yitro 14:247-252).  What is the lesson of the mountain today?  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks talking about that very mountain wrote, “With the revelation at Sinai, something unprecedented entered the human horizon, though it would take centuries, millennia, before its full implications were understood. At Sinai, the politics of freedom was born.”  Let’s explore that a bit.
     In Mishnah Pesachim 10 we read, “[God] brought us out from slavery to freedom, from sorrow to joy, from mourning to festival, from darkness to great light, and from servitude to redemption [therefore] let us say before Him, Halleluyah.”  Surely, this is for us who during our Passover Seders are admonished to identify with our ancestors captivity and release.  The former slaves who came out of Egypt could not be expected after a mere three months to say whole-heartily, “Halleluyah.”  Therefore, are the words “from slavery to freedom,” really the case?  Isn’t more accurate to say from slavery to the wilderness?   Of course the oppression of slavery had ended, no longer are these former slaves beholden to Pharaoh’s control, but have they really found freedom?  The fact is they now needed to deal with this new phenomenon, yet while Israel left their slavery in Egypt, did the slavery of Egypt truly leave Israel?
     Keep in mind that in B’shallach God did not lead Israel through the land of the Philistines because war of any kind may have caused them to return to the false security of Egypt.  So when Israel arrived at Mt. Sinai they easily, and understandably, proclaimed their new servitude to God as opposed to Pharaoh (Ex. 19:5).  When they responded to Moses by saying, “All that the LORD hath spoken we will do,” did they know what that meant? (Ex. 19:8).  The mountain they approached that day would be more than a place where they received the Ten Commandments, but it was a place where the transformation from slavery to freedom would begin.  Rabbi Dan Fink in his article on Shavuot from the book “Ecology and the Jewish Spirit” writes, “The covenant with God and the Jewish people may have commenced with Abraham and Sarah … but the relationship was not sealed until the first Shavuot when the Israelite's received the Torah from the summit of Mount Sinai.”  Rabbi Fink wrote this after he had hiked the Appalachian Trail that changed him.  In this case, the transformative power of the mountains and the nature that he engaged contained a revelation for his own life and appreciation of God.  In that spirit I do not think it was an accident that upon Israel’s journey the first significant place where they would set up camp was at a mountain.
     We read that Mt. Sinai was a place where ”there was thunder and lightning and a heavy cloud on the mountain,” which announced the presence of God to the community (Ex. 19:16).  We also read that when Moses presents the commandments to Israel it did not say, “I am the Lord your God” who created the world and am more powerful than all other gods … but, “I am the Lord your God that brought you out of Egypt,” so one day you may be free.  In Exodus 19:20 we read, וַיֵּרֶד יְהוָה עַל-הַר סִינַי,אֶל-רֹאשׁ הָהָר, “And the LORD came down upon mount Sinai, to the top of the mount,” meaning that God came to meet with Israel on their level.  Upon Moses’s ascent of Mt. Sinai the Ohr HaChaim writes, “as soon as God noticed Moses was ascending, God called out to him,” meaning that Moses’s pursuit of God drew a like replay.  This is what the Zohar meant by saying that Moses and the mountain had been prepared for each other at creation.  But it was not the God of creation who judges the earth that Moses contended with, but the Lord who identified as, אָנֹכִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, “I am the Lord your God,” reflecting the Lord of covenant and relationship.  Surely then, God must have spoken to Moses with the soft and gentile voice of a friend.
     We actually see this play out with Elijah in 1 Kings 19 who is led by an angel to the Mountain of Horeb (i.e. Mt. Sinai) where he is greeted by a mighty wind, splitting mountains, shattering of rocks, an earthquake and fire; the power of a God who judges the world just as it was at Mt. Sinai.  Yet, God was in none of those powerful manifestations. The voice that Elijah sought was in the wind, something that was described as a “soft murmuring sound.”  This God was also identified as Lord, the same Lord-God of compassion and mercy, who previously spoke to Moses with the same soft and gentile voice (cf. 1 Kings 19:11-12).  Those who know me have heard me talk about the mountain of Psalm 121 where it says, אֶשָּׂא עֵינַי, אֶל-הֶהָרִים-מֵאַיִן,יָבֹא עֶזְרִי, “I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: from whence shall my help come?”  A mountain is powerful, majestic, opposing, jagged and towering just to name a few.  But when we look we see that a mountain is something else, it's impermeable, so while we cannot see through it to the other side we surely know that there is another side.  Compare that with the Mountain of Moses and Elijah, thus as they encountered a mountain of power and might, they also found something else - but that had to look for it.  The mountain for Israel contained another side as well, that other side per R’Sacks included a “politics of freedom.”
     Freedom is not just given, it is taken, not a revelation but a revolution.  Michael Walzer in his book “Exodus and Revolution” writes about the redemptive power of God from Egypt, yet he further says that its lasting results are found in “the long-term work required to make deliverance permanent.”  Since we all traverse our own mountains each of us gets to embrace this as we need, but leaving Egypt was freedom part-one, and slavery to freedom was (and is) a journey with the mountain being a place that contains a message on the other side.  We know that the first generation did not make it, they failed to find freedom, but the mystery of the mountain that is transformative says freedom when sought can always be found.  From slavery, to the wilderness, to freedom.

Shabbat Shalom!           

Parashat B'shalach - Making Meaning or Reading Madness

     רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat B'shalach

Exodus 13:17-17:16

By Adam Ruditsky

     In our last two parshiyot, Va’ayra and Bo, we were greeted with the human journey of the Hebrews in the backdrop of some really amazing wonders to behold.  At the beginning of B’shalach we read about Pharaoh’s response to what happened; ויהי בשלח פרעה את העם, “and it happened that Pharaoh sent the people” to go into the wilderness and worship their God.  It would only be a short time after their release that Pharaoh would also say, “What is this that we have done that we have sent away Israel from serving us?”  Pharaoh responded to what he had encountered in the same way he had before, with God giving him over to the hardness of his heart.  As Pharaoh sought to give meaning to what he experienced, which concluded with the death of his own son (and in their myth a generational son of Ra the sun god), Pharaoh would once again lead his people down a destructive path.
     Moses, like Pharaoh, responds to the act of God at the splitting of the Red Sea although in song, thus we read, אז ישיר משה ובנ ישראל השירה הזות ליהוה, “then Moses and the children of Israel sang this song to the Lord;” something that seems to be contrary to what we learned last week from Proverbs 44:10 that says “if your enemy falls, do not exult.”  Rashi wants to make meaning to how Moses reacted saying it was to the miracle itself (as opposed to the deaths), hence Rashi teaches us that the exaltation by Moses and Israel “applies to anything that cannot be done by another,” or other gods.  Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell comments on Miriam’s response to the miracle of the sea by saying that her strength should be understood in the backdrop of “the Near Eastern tradition of woman warriors,” yet her voice is the same prophetic voice that convinced her parents regarding Moses despite Pharaoh’s decree to kill all newborn males (cf. Mid.Exodus R. 1:13).  The future guided her and was the basis of why she responded in song.
     While Moses and Miriam may have had positive reactions to what they had experienced, the rest of the people are another matter.  There are 6 bewonderment acts of God in this parsha; (1) the pillars of cloud and fire, (2) the splitting of the waters, (3) the waters of Marah turn sweet from their bitterness, (4) the mana from heaven, (5) water from a rock and (6) Moses’ raised arms help to defeat Amalek.   In each case the people respond with the same negativity, thus after the pillars of cloud and fire lead them in the wilderness, they still responded to Moses by saying “Is it because there are not - enough graves in Egypt - that you brought us to die in the wilderness?”  They did the same after the parting of the sea itself.  Three days later they needed water, yet after they had experienced the pillars of cloud and fire that led them to the very parting of the Sea of Reeds, it says; “the people complained against Moses, saying, ‘What shall we drink?”  The story tells us that Moses threw a particular tree into the bitter waters and they became sweet, hence the people were nourished although conspicuously missing was any type of graduate or thanksgiving.  What made the redactors of these texts write about these big moments?  Whatever they experienced they then communicated in a way that spoke to the reality of their world.
     After Israel walked through the dry sea floor they sang in their song, ימינך יהוה נאדרי בכח ימינך יהוה תרעץ אויב, “Your right hand, Oh God, is majestic in might, your right hand, Oh God, crushes the enemy.”  Israel could not sustain this response and I am sure the up and down reactions in part caused our tradition to look beyond the plain meaning of the text.  As such, the Rabbis concerned themselves not with what necessarily happened, but gave the texts new meaning.  In Bava Kamma 82a we read that the waters that were made sweet alluded to the Torah, thus we cannot go more than three days without being nourished by Torah, which is why we read Torah on Mondays, Thursdays and Shabbat.  Yet what about the miracles that were always followed by doubts.  The Talmud picked up on this as well, hence “the provision of one’s daily bread is as difficult as the splitting of the Sea of Reeds” (BT. Pesachim 118a).  Here, the issue is not the miracles themselves but how the people reacted to a God that they could not see.  Rabbi Alison Wissot looks at this through the eyes of בטחון, or trust.  Yet for Rabbi Wissot this type of trust does not just come because of a miracle seen, it is a trust of choice. We live in a world of uncertainty, mystery and doubts, so belief in God does not inevitably translate to a person’s ability to trust.  In Israel’s case regarding the Exodus, their inability to trust God was rooted in fear and doubt, something that received too more power in the end.
     As we interact with these texts we are also being asked to give them meaning.  In a couple of months we will read these stories again during Passover where we are admonished to walk in our ancestors’ footsteps as we encounter their slavery as our own.  Really?  How many of us have experienced that type of slavery, yet, we all have our own Egypt.  The Passover Seder asks us to give meaning to someone else’s history, and that is what our Torah parsha is also asking us to do. What is the same, however, are the fears and doubts that we all embrace even though our stories and big moments will differ.  How can making meaning out of what we encounter speak to the madness that may surround it?  I think that is something our text is asking us to think about by looking within and beyond as well as on the surface and down deep.  Without meaning it's hard to make our way forward, and sometimes, meaning has to be discovered or even rediscovered.

Shabbat Shalom!