Parashat T'tzaveh • Exodus 27:20–30:10

Beaten Toward Redemption

The mark of a ubiquitous and resonant idea is the ability to inspire both high and low culture simultaneously. Nietzsche quipped, “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger,” a notion taken up by no less a meme-generator than pop princess Kelly Clarkson. But our Midrash predates both, comparing the description of the “clear oil of beaten olives” from our parasha to the people of Israel, who required the conquest by others to compel them toward repentance and to evoke an emergence of their highest natures. It is, on the one hand, a troubling excuse for historic suffering in the presence of a seemingly absent God. Yet this analogy also drives our people’s almost supernatural survival instinct in the face of enduring persecution. Both approaches elevate what would otherwise be a mind-numbing litany of artifacts and practices of a Temple defunct for two millennia into an aspirational guide for Jews as individuals and as a transcendent community. Nietzsche and Clarkson possessed a firm foundation of lemonade-making-from-lemons upon which to ply their pop-philosophies.

Rabbi Daniel Weiner


Parashat Terumah • Exodus 25:1-27:19

“The entire universe is full of God’s glory” (Isaiah 6:3). “The Heavens are My throne, and the earth is My footstool; What house can you build for me?” (Isaiah 66:1).” “The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot contain You. How much less this house I have built” (1 Kings 8:27). If God’s Presence fills the entire universe, as these verses from TaNaKh seem to indicate, why does God even need a Temple?

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Terumah, (Exodus 25:1 – 27:19), offers one answer: “That I might dwell among them.” A close read reveals this structure was not build for God — God is not going to dwell in it — but for the people, that God might “dwell among them.” This Hebrew verb, shin-chaf-nun, then becomes the word Shechinah, a closer experience of God’s presence. 


Parshat Mishpatim • Exodus 21:1–24:18

Watch the Rabcast for Rabbi Daniel Weiner’s interpretation of this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Mishpatim:


Parshat Yitro • Exodus 18:1–20:23

Watch the Rabcast for Rabbi Daniel Weiner’s interpretation of this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Yitro:

 


Parshat Beshalach • Exodus 13:17-17:16

In this weeks torah portion Beshalach the Israelites are finally on their way to freedom. As they made their way to the sea Pharoahs’s army approached. Trapped, the Israelites turned to Moses and said, “What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, saying, ‘Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians, for it is better for us to serve the Egyptians, than to die in the wilderness?” (Exodus 14:11-13). According to Rabbi Ibn Ezra “The Israelites still have a slave mentality, despite their having experienced God’s redemptive power during the Ten Plagues.” This lack of faith might make one question whether the Israelites were worthy of being chosen to receive the Torah as a result of their apparent lack of faith and trust in God. However, it is this very lack of faith, and this questioning that the Israelites do that makes them worthy of receiving Torah.

According to Daniel Gordis in his book God Was Not in the Fire, “In Jewish spiritual life, faith is not the starting point of the journey. Uncertainty is not the enemy of religious and spiritual growth. Doubt is what fuels the journey. Indeed, as we will see, the Torah goes to great lengths to reassure the searching Jew that skepticism is healthy, legitimate and even celebrated in Jewish life.”

Therefore, it is the Israelites asking why God has brought them out to the wilderness to die that makes them the unique people to receive and interpret Torah. Most people would not think to question God or their religious leader. Here their questioning is the precursor to their redemption. God does not save the Israelites to show them how their lack of faith is unfounded. Rather, God splits the sea because even though the Israelites might think like slaves, they do one thing a slave does not do. They exercise their power to voice their opinion, even in opposition.


Parshat Bo • Exodus 10:1-13:16

“Why do Jews wear those funny boxes on their heads?” While such a question would be considered offensive in most other contexts, it was beautifully innocent coming from the overeager 4th grader on a tour of Temple’s sacred spaces. Stepping back from my emotional connection to the rites and rituals of Judaism, I must admit she had a point. Tefilin, the black leather boxes traditionally-observant Jews wear on their heads and forearms during prayer, do look a bit funny. The answer to her question was more complex than she could have anticipated.

I explained that we sometimes read the biblical text quite literally. Why do Jewish holidays begin the night before? “There was evening, there was morning, a first day” we read in Genesis, a model of night and day different from the secular solar ordering. Thus when it says “you shall bind them as a sign before your eyes”, that is exactly what we do! The last words of this week’s Torah portion, Bo, offer further explanation: “And so it shall be as a sign upon your hand and as a symbol on your forehead that with a mighty hand the Lord freed us from Egypt (Exodus 13:16).” Those funny boxes, then, not only serve to fulfill one of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot but also as a reminder of our freedom in this world and our obligation to emulate God by striving to bring freedom to all in need.

Rabbi Aaron Meyer


Parshat Va’era • Exodus 6:2-9:35

This week’s Torah portion, Va’era (Exodus 6:2-9:35) begins with an introduction. “God spoke to Moses and said to him: ‘I am the Lord. I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai (El Shaddai being one of the many names for God in Jewish tradition).” Certainly God needs no introduction, so why this peculiar way of starting the Torah portion.

Instead of listing attributes — “I created the heavens and the earth” or “I destroyed the world in the time of Noah, pay attention” — God presents as the same God honored by Moses’ forebearers. The manner in which God is introduced forms a lasting theme in Jewish prayer. With the Amidah, we begin our central prayer recognizing God as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Indeed, the sages of the Talmud suggest that the very idea of prayer itself was initiated by these patriarchs: “Rav Jose son of Rav Hanina said, the tefilot were instituted by the patriarchs (Berachot 26b)!” God’s introduction, then, is a lesson for all of Jewish history rather than mere making the acquaintance of Moses.

Rabbi Aaron Meyer


Parshat Shemot • Shemot 1:1–6:1

“A new king arose over Egypt who knew not Joseph.” This week’s Torah portion, the first in the Book of Exodus (Shemot 1:1-6:1), presents a sudden shift in status for the Israelite people: the ruler who knew Joseph was kind to the Israelite people while the ruler who didn’t would deal shrewdly with them. The abruptness of this verse apparently bothered the authors of the Zohar, the mystical text of Jewish tradition: “Rabbi Hiyya said, ‘Thirty days before a nation rises to power or is overtaken by calamity on earth, that event is proclaimed in the world. Sometimes it is transmitted through the mouths of children, sometimes through people who have no sense, and sometimes that word is transmitted through the mouths of birds who announce it in the world yet no one notices.’” Unable to accept that such dramatic change can happen unforeseen, they rationalize that we must simply have missed the signs. The authors of the Zohar point out an important reality: as human beings, we are indeed quite adept at seeing only that which we want to see.

An equally powerful lesson might also be found in the opposite teaching. Sometimes things do happen in an instant, without warning, that completely reframe our world view and either delight us or challenge us to the limits of our emotional capacity. New situations arise which know not the arrangements of the past. May we find the courage to face them as our ancestors faced their new reality, eventually emerging from our own personal mitzrim to the promised land.

Rabbi Aaron Meyer


Parshat Vayechi • Genesis 47:28–50:26

As Sir Thomas More languished in the Tower of London awaiting almost certain death, he penned a meditation on the meaning of life and ordering of priorities. In his eloquent and transcendent expression, he intones:
“To think my worst enemies my best friends, for the brethren of Joseph could never have done him so much good with their love and favor as they did him with their malice and hatred.”

This was a powerful rationalization of even the most malicious machinations of his enemies as fodder for necessary growth and a singular realization of God’s larger vision and will. In this week’s portion, Vayechi, Jacob dies, and the guilt-ridden sons believe that Joseph will finally drop the hammer of revenge upon them in the absence of paternal judgment. But Joseph again affirms his capacity to rise above recrimination, a sure sign that he as evolved into a judicious leader. He asserts that God intended what happened to be for good and life, and offers the rhetorical and spiritual humility: “Fear not, for am I in the place of God?”

For those of us who find it difficult to let go, to loosen hold on grudges, or to see our acts as part of a larger, more enduring purpose, More’s meditation coupled with Joseph’s divinely configured forgiveness are inspiring guides to a better, less fraught life.

Rabbi Daniel Weiner


Parshat Vayigash • Genesis 44:18–47:27

Fallen Dominoes

The Domino Theory has gotten a bad rap for its role in reactionary, anti-Communist foreign policy during the Vietnam War.  I’d like to reclaim it as the Domino Theory of Jewish Theology for its critical role in this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash. Joseph dramatically reveals himself to his brothers, and rather than exact wrathful vengeance for how they treated him, he gives them a pass by intoning, “…for it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.”  More than merely an act of altruistic forgiveness, it reflects Joseph’s realization that the human dynamic within his family propelled a much larger, more impactful unfolding of events on the fraught stage of Jewish destiny.  Without Joseph’s imprisonment in Egypt, he would not have risen to the Egyptian court, thus empowered to save both Egypt and Jacob’s tribe from famine.  Without their refuge in Goshen, the Jews would not have been established in Egypt to eventually become slaves. Without enslavement, the Jews would not have been liberated by God, received the Torah on Sinai nor eventually settled in the Promised Land.  It’s a kind of Chad Gadya on a geo-theologiocal scale!  As the contemporary commentator, Nechamah Leibowitz, reminds us,“Fortunate is he to whom it is granted to detect in the metamorphoses of his daily existence and the vicissitudes of her personal affairs, the workings of Providence—a mission on which he has been sent by God.”

Rabbi Daniel Weiner