​            There is a great scene in The Godfather Part II, in which Michael (Al Pacino) is in crisis with both his business and his family.  He asks his mother if it is possible that one could work so hard and yet still lose connection to his family.  His mother replies, “But you can never lose your family.”
            This week we read Parshat Tzav.  We are commanded to have a continual flame burning[1].  “A perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar; it may not go out/אֵשׁ תָּמִיד תּוּקַד עַל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ לֹא תִכְבֶּה.”  The Sfas Emes[2] teaches that “inside the heart of every Jew there is a hidden point that is enthusiastically aflame with [love of] God, a fire that cannot go out.  Even though ‘it may not go out’ here refers to a prohibition, it is also a promise.”[3]  The promise is that although there are difficulties and distractions that make it harder at times to feel the warmth of that inner flame, we know that it is always there.  Prayer is the point where we fan the flame in order to burn away those parts of us that make it difficult to serve God and make the world a better place. Prayer, in essence, is that very struggle inside of us.  Rabbi Art Green explains that “[i]ndeed, there is pure fire of love in our hearts, but it is there in order to meet and consume our lower passions, our distractions, all those thoughts that seem such un-welcome guests in our hearts when we try to pray.  But their presence is the very point of prayer.  They—or the ‘we,’ the self who is represented by them—come to us in that moment in order to be consumed, to be taken up into that secret fire that burns within us.”[4]
            This week is the final week in the lead up to Passover.  We will be cleaning our homes and removing all the leaven/hametz from our homes.  We also need to begin our spiritual spring cleaning.  This week it is important that we are reminded: you can never lose your inner flame.  It is now the time to use that fire to sweep away the inner corners of our souls, so that when we sit down at the Seder Table, we are truly free from the limitations that have restricted us.  This year, we are all free.  Next year in Jerusalem!
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Lev. 6:6

[2] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[3] Sfas Emes 3:21

[4] Rabbi Art Green, Language of Truth, pg. 156

            A few years ago, I was running a session on prayer during staff week at Camp Ramah in New England.  Every half an hour I got a new group.  When each new group entered the room, they saw pieces of paper all over the room; taped to benches, to walls and to pillars.   When they looked closer at the pieces, they saw that the same things was written on each of them: “You”.  Then we sat and listened to an old Hassidic song, A Dudele[1].  The point of the exercise was to expand our notion of what prayer is and where it can be done.  Can we see “You” everywhere? What do we do when we see “You”?
           This week we begin the book of VaYikra.  The parsha begins with a calling. “The Lord summoned Moses and spoke to him from the tent of meeting, saying/וַיִּקְרָא אֶל מֹשֶׁה, וַיְדַבֵּר ה' אֵלָיו, מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר.” The Midrash explains this verse through a parable.     
"And He called to Moses." What is written above this matter [of these words "And he called to Moses"]? Parshat Mishkan [the building of the Tabernacle]. This can be compared to a King who commanded his servant and said to him, "Build me a palace." On every item which the servant built he wrote the name of the King on it. When he built walls, he wrote the name of the King on them. When he stood up columns he wrote the name of the King on them. When he installed beams, he wrote the name of the King on them. After a while, the King entered into the palace. On everything which he looked, he found his name written. He said, "All this great honor was afforded to me by my servant and I am on the interior and he is outside?!" [The King] called [the servant] to enter into the inner part of the palace. So too, when The Holy One, Blessed is He, said to Moses, "Build me a Sanctuary," on every single matter Moses wrote, "As Hashem had commanded Moses." The Holy One said, "All of this great honor was given to me by Moses and I'm inside and he is outside?!" He (God) called to him (Moses) to enter the inner place, and therefore it says, "And He called to Moses."[2]
For all of Moses’ hard work for the sake of Heaven, he did not feel ready to come inside the Tent until he was called. 
           The Sfas Emes[3] teaches that Moses drew so much from the spiritual heights in the building of the Mishkan that even he did not feel as though he could enter.  Moses brought intense holiness down from the Heavens into our reality in order to build a dwelling place for God on Earth.  Moses performed his task with the utmost humility.  To build something that holy for the right reason requires an extinguishing of the ego.   And for his victory of his ego, Moses is rewarded by being called into the Tent of Meeting.[4]
           There is a little bit of Moses inside of each and every one of us.  Our challenge is to access it and act on it.  Many of us feel comfortable with taking on parts of his role.  We give to our communities in a variety of different ways for the purpose of loving God, Torah and Israel as a community.  And still sometimes we feel as though we do not belong.  What happens inside the sanctuary is too intense for me. Even though I helped build it to ensure that it was built, every inch of it, with holiness in mind, I still cannot go in.  This week we are rewarded for our true service and called back in.  And if we step back in on Shabbat, we will find that the holy crowns we once adorned will be waiting for us to don once again.  May we all have a sweet Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Composed by Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev: One approach to addressing the Divine was offered by Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, a Hasidic rebbe in the second generation of followers of the Baal Shem Tov. He offered his theology in the form of a song, known as a dudele (from the Yiddish word du for “you”). Levi Yitzchak presents us a way of looking at the world through the eyes of the teaching “Everything is God and nothing but God.”  A good version can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDEz07XSONc

[2] Lev. Rab 1:7

[3] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[4] Sfas Emes 3:2

​            This week we read a double portion of VaYakhel Pekudei.  The parsha, which largely contains guidelines for the building of the Tabernacle/Mishkan, opens with a large gathering of the people[1].  “Moses assembled all the congregation of the Israelites and said to them: These are the things that the Lord has commanded you to do/וַיַּקְהֵל מֹשֶׁה אֶת כָּל עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם, אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה ה' לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם.”  Rashi[2] explains this is all happening, Moses’ second descent from the mountain with the second set of tablets followed by the building instructions, the day after Yom Kippur. 
            The Sfas Emes[3] teaches that the People of Israel were in mourning over their actions that resulted in the Golden Calf.  And now that they had repented and done teshuva, The Holy Blessed One, in all of His mercy, gave them the commandment/mitzvah of giving generously[4] for the sake of the mishkan in order to make them happy.  As it says in the Talmud[5], all mitzvot that were accepted joyously, are still done joyously to this day.
            Maintaining relationships is difficult.  Especially if there has been a fracture.  Our involvement in the Golden Calf greatly hurt God, and when we reflected on what we had done, we needed to ask forgiveness in order to mend our union.  However, that is only the beginning.  In my experience, saying sorry is only one part of the process towards renewed trust and engagement.  It takes positive interactions after having a fight with somebody to normalize the relationship again; to remind all parties about why they got together in the first place.  Practically, this may mean trying to get somebody to laugh and smile after a conflict has been resolved.  It will soften the heart and bring back positive feelings.  
            The same is true with our relationship with God.  It makes sense that we would still be walking on eggshells after what we did with the Golden Calf.  That is why it is so wonderful to appreciate the kindness done to us by God in giving us the opportunity to give of ourselves with a generous and open heart.  After we atoned for our mistakes on Yom Kippur, we are immediately given the holiday of Sukkot, on which God commands us to be happy.  As the Sfas Emes explains, the work of the mishkan and the holiday of Sukkot are ultimately the same matter.  The joy that one experiences in serving God after teshuva is an everlasting joy. 
            Service performed from a place of fear and obedience may be important and serve a purpose.  And this week we are reminded that fear is often not a long-lasting motivator.  Happiness, fun and camaraderie are what sinks roots into the hearts and minds of a person.  This week let us continue the ecstatic work of creating holy spaces in our communities.  Our joy creates the ideal dwelling place for the Divine Presence/Shekhina.  And that delightful dwelling place will be an everlasting structure.
 
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Ex. 35:1

[2] Shlomo Yitzchaki (Hebrew: רבי שלמה יצחקי‎; Latin: Salomon Isaacides; French: Salomon de Troyes, 22 February 1040 – 13 July 1105), today generally known by the acronym Rashi (Hebrew: רש"י, RAbbi SHlomo Itzhaki), was a medieval French rabbi and author of a comprehensive commentary on the Talmud and commentary on the Tanakh.

[3] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[4] Ex. 35:4-5: “Moses said to all the congregation of the Israelites: This is the thing that the Lord has commanded: Take from among you an offering to the Lord; let whoever is of a generous heart bring the Lord’s offering…”

[5] BT Shabbat 130a

​            Gift giving is an interesting activity.  As Purim is right around the corner, we will soon have a specific holiday obligation to offer gifts to friends[1] and those in need[2]. Leaving charity aside for a moment, when I give a gift to a loved one, I do not give the gift because they actually need the item or the experience.  I want to see the look in the person’s eyes when they open it.  That look that tells me that this person needs me.  That look is more important than any specific thing. 
           This week we read from Parshat Tetzaveh.  God instructs Moses, “You shall further command the Israelites to bring you pure oil of beaten olives for the light, so that a lamp may be set up to burn regularly/וְאַתָּה תְּצַוֶּה אֶת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִקְחוּ אֵלֶיךָ שֶׁמֶן זַיִת זָךְ כָּתִית לַמָּאוֹר לְהַעֲלֹת נֵר תָּמִיד.”[3]  The question is, why is this commandment important or meaningful?  Why do we need to regularly or consistently light this lamp?  The Rabbis offer one explanation.  “‘I do not need your light.  But I want to give you an opportunity to light for Me like I have lit for you.’…this can be compared to a seeing person who leads a blind person as they travel along the road together. When they come to the house, the seeing person says to the blind one, ‘Please go and light a candle for me.’ To this the blind person replies, ‘I do not understand. As long as we were travelling, you supported and guided me. Why do you now ask me to light a candle for you?’ To this the seeing person responds, ‘I want to give you an opportunity to pay me back so that you do not feel an ongoing debt of gratitude.’”[4]
            This is a fascinating teaching. The Rabbis explain that God does not need the lamp.  God does not even really need the light.  What does God need? This is about being in relationship.  We have been given a tremendous gift.  The Torah[5] is the great light that has been bequeathed to us.  And God is placing a lamp before us as if to say, “you will not have to worry about repaying me for the kindness.  We are engaged in a relationship of constant giving and receiving.  Every day I make the sun rise and re-give you Torah so that you may see the world as it should be.  And everyday you will offer me yourself, so that we can be together. I do not need your light. I need you.” 
            The Sfas Emes[6] further teaches that it is our mission as Jews to look for the holy light in everything and lift it up, back to its source in heaven.  That there is a light inside of every person and thing.  “To set up/לְהַעֲלֹת” the lamp is really to raise up the light so that everyone can see that it comes from the Source of All.  “Consistently/תָּמִיד” means that God is always a part of every person and thing.  When we look for it, we will find it.
            On this Shabbat, we have a duty to remember.  Traditionally we remember the evil that Amalek thrust upon us.  This week, let us also remember that their evil was perpetrated because they did not see God in every human and everything.  Let us act differently.  By seeing the holiness around us, and raising it up, we will be repaying God for the kindness bestowed on this world, for creating it with such multitude, wonder and diversity.   
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Mishloah Manot

[2] Matanot L’Evyonim

[3] Ex. 27:20

[4] Ex. Rab. 36:2 (also Num. Rab. 15:6)

[5] אורייתא/oraita which is the Aramaic term for Torah means The Light.

[6] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

            One of the great sports movies of the last 15 years is Coach Carter. Coach Carter, played by Samuel L. Jackson, is attempting to coach and mentor young men in a working-class neighborhood.  After a few wins, the team begins to get overly confident.  Showing off and attributing all of their success to their hard work alone.  Coach Carter imitates his players, by bragging about everything that he does:  how he thought of the plays that they execute and that their execution was the product of his work.  Finally, he ties his own shoe and looks around the gym for high fives for his ability to tie a nice bow. “I did that!” He shouts.  And then refuses to give high fives for it. 
            This week we read from Parshat Terumah, where God instructs Moses to tell the people how to build the tabernacle/mishkan.  “tell the Israelites to take for me an offering; from all whose hearts prompt them to give, you shall receive the offering for me/דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְיִקְחוּ לִי תְּרוּמָה.  מֵאֵת כָּל-אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יִדְּבֶנּוּ לִבּוֹ תִּקְחוּ אֶת-תְּרוּמָתִי.”[1]  What exactly are we giving?  And what are we getting?
            The Talmud asks a question: Manasseh said to him: I will ask you, from where are you required to begin cutting a loaf of bread when reciting the blessing: Who brings forth bread from the earth?...Manasseh said to him: One cuts the loaf from where it crusts as a result of baking.[2]  The Izhbitzer Rebbe[3]explains the question in the Talmud.  The question is really asking, “where is the deep recognition in this loaf of bread that the blessed God is giving it so you can truly say on it, ‘Blessed art Thou?’  And the answer is, ‘from the part that was baked first.’  There are so many stages in the work of our human hands that goes into making the bread: the kneading, arranging, heating the oven, putting it equally in the oven.  But the very place where it starts baking is not a result of the power of [hu]mankind.  Then, when one takes this into his heart, asking why it starting baking at this particular place, he sees that it has only come about from the will of the blessed God.”[4]
            The crust is a constant reminder that despite all of our hard work, there is much that is out of our control.  Coach Carter was trying to teach his players about humility.  And that is only one part of the equation.  Of course, it is important to acknowledge the seemingly random things in our lives that are out of our control.  But the Izhbitzer is pushing us one step further.  Not only do we need to be momentarily conscious of that which is beyond us, but we should also try to live with that awesome awareness at our core.  When we live in a place where we always know that all of our hard work will never be enough on its own, then we will bring God into the fabric of our lives, and holiness will walk with us wherever we go.  May we go forward knowing that it is not simply our work that we are handing to God, but through accepting God’s role in our handiwork, we will in fact be bringing God down to dwell with us. 
 
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Ex, 25:2

[2] BT Sanhedrin 102b

[3] Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica (Yiddish: איזשביצע, איזביצע‎ Izhbitze, Izbitse, Ishbitze) (1801-1854) was a rabbinic Hasidic thinker and founder of the Izhbitza-Radzyn dynasty of Hasidic Judaism.  Rabbi Mordechai Yosef was born in Tomashov (Polish: Tomaszów Lubelski) in 1801 to his father Reb Yaakov the son of Reb Mordechai of Sekul, a descendant of Rabbi Saul Wahl. At the age two he became orphaned of his father. He became a disciple of Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa where he joined Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk and Rabbi Yosef of Yartshev; both were also born in Tomashov. When Rabbi Menachem Mendel became Rebbe in Kotzk, Reb Mordechai Yosef became his disciple there; then in 1839 became himself a rebbe in Tomaszów, moving subsequently to Izbica.

[4] Living Waters, pg. 156, translated by Betsalel Philip Edwards. 

​            Last night, I tuned in to watch the opening events of the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang.  I was excited about the figure skating team event that was kicking everything off.  A few minutes in to the Men’s Short Programs, I called Laura, my wife, over to watch with me. “Come watch the next three skaters.”  The next three came from countries that I have close relationships with: Canada, Israel and the United States.  We watched the Canadian skater and then NBC showed a pre-recorded story of an American skater and his journey from Salt Lake City to the Olympics.  After the story, NBC showed Israel’s official section cheering on their fellow countryman and athlete after having put up the highest score thus far of all the men.  Why then were Laura and I immediately confused and upset?  It was because NBC did not air the Israeli man, Alexei Bychenko, as he skated a “perfect program” according to commentators.  On opening night, the only athlete not shown was the Israeli.
            This week we read Parshat Mishpatim.  In the middle of the Parsha[1], God proclaims, “You shall be people consecrated to me; therefore you shall not eat any meat that is mangled by beasts in the field; you shall throw it to the dogs/וְאַנְשֵׁי קֹדֶשׁ תִּהְיוּן לִי וּבָשָׂר בַּשָּׂדֶה טְרֵפָה לֹא תֹאכֵלוּ, לַכֶּלֶב תַּשְׁלִכוּן אֹתוֹ.”    The Sfas Emes[2] teaches on this verse.
In the name of the holy rabbi of Kotsk[3]on the verse:  “You shall be people of holiness unto me.”  The guarding of holiness has to be within the realm of human deeds and activities.  God has no lack of sublime angels, seraphim, or holy beings.  But God longs for the holiness of people; it was for that reason that He caused sparks of holiness to enter the world, in measured and reduced form.  Therefore, “[you shall not eat any meat that is mangled by beasts in the field]”; from this the rabbis derived the principle that anything taken out of its proper place is forbidden.  This means that the flow of holiness is in all things, but in a measured way.  We have to guard the corporeal, that it not transgress the border of holiness.
But “you shall be” can also be read as a promise [rather than as a commandment].  In the end Israel are to be “holy unto the Lord.”  That is why we have to guard ourselves now, so that we are ready to be placed upon the King’s head.  The Midrash says in a parable, [referring to one making a crown], “as many precious stones and pearls as you can put onto it, do so, for it is going to be placed upon the King’s own head.[4]
According to the Kotzker Rebbe, we need to exemplify holiness in our human actions and make sure that the mundane does not encroach upon the holy.  Our humanity and physical nature is what makes us desirable to God.  When we use our earthliness properly, we become holy.  However, the Sfas Emes points out that our holiness is not necessarily about our physical nature.  It is because Israel, God’s precious pearl, will be placed on the Holy One’s crown. 
            The Olympics should be a glorious time to celebrate the wonder and holiness of the body that God created.[5]  And last night, while I tuned in to see that holiness displayed under the banner of the State of Israel, I was denied that pleasure.  That was wrong.  Humanity’s diversity gives honor to our Creator while the diversity of the Olympics affords us the joy in seeing ourselves in our national heroes.  That was a shame.  While we did not get to see our own holiness on display in the human sense, as the Kotzker teaches, it afforded us an opportunity to focus on the teaching of the Sfas Emes.  Any medals we would win, and fashion with our hands, we should remember, they do not belong around our necks, they will ultimately get placed in the crown.  May we have a blessed week of human holiness realized while preparing many precious medals to give glory to the One who unites.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Ex. 22:30

[2] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[3] Menachem Mendel Morgensztern of Kotzk, better known as the Kotzker Rebbe (1787–1859) was a Hasidic rabbi and leader. He is considered to be the spiritual founder upon which the Ger dynasty in Poland is based, through the teachings of its founder Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter. One of his major students was Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica.

[4] Sfas Emes 2:111, Translation by Rabbi Art Green (Language of Truth, pg. 114)

[5] Granted, in recent times we have become aware of terrible crimes committed during the construction of the various games and by trusted officials who were allowed to be close to vulnerable athletes.  While this taints the Olympics in a certain way, it does not detract, in my eyes, from the idea of the Olympics. 

           This week we read Parshat BeShalah, which includes the Song of the Sea/Shirat HaYam which is sung by the Israelites following the splitting of the Red Sea.  This Shabbat is called Shabbat Shira/Shabbat of Song precisely for this song, and the singing and dancing that Miriam leads the women in following the crossing of the Sea.  This Shabbat, we recall the beginnings of our People’s steps toward unique peoplehood.  This Shabbat, we also celebrate the extraordinary role of women in our lives.  In our community, this Shabbat is Women’s Shabbat.
            As we leave Egypt, we throw off the shackles of bondage and declare that we are a people, with our own culture and customs.  Our custom is to sing our praises to God.  “Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Lord: ‘I will sing to the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider He has thrown into the sea/ אָז יָשִׁיר מֹשֶׁה וּבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת לַה', וַיֹּאמְרוּ לֵאמֹר: אָשִׁירָה לַיהוָה כִּי-גָאֹה גָּאָה, סוּס וְרֹכְבוֹ רָמָה בַיָּם.”[1]  After the song, Miriam decides to express her joy just as Moses and everyone else did.  “Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand; and all the women went out after her with tambourines and with dancing.  And Miriam sang to them: ‘Sing to the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider He has thrown into the sea.’/וַתִּקַּח מִרְיָם הַנְּבִיאָה אֲחוֹת אַהֲרֹן אֶת-הַתֹּף--בְּיָדָהּ; וַתֵּצֶאןָ כָל הַנָּשִׁים אַחֲרֶיהָ בְּתֻפִּים וּבִמְחֹלֹת.  וַתַּעַן לָהֶם, מִרְיָם, שִׁירוּ לַה' כִּי-גָאֹה גָּאָה, סוּס וְרֹכְבוֹ רָמָה בַיָּם.”[2]
           The Sfas Emes[3] asks, “how is it possible to sing a song that was written in the Torah?”[4]  He answers by explaining that the idea of giving the Torah to the Jews was to have the light of Torah depend on every mouth and word of the people, as it is written, “the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth…”[5]  Each word of Torah is dependent on each and every person and their words and actions.  When we are each allowed to raise up our voice, we raise the letters of the Torah off of the parchment, bringing it to life before our eyes, as we elevate it closer to its divine source.[6]
           This week testifies to our people’s unique national expression and of the witnessing of women openly, melodically and rightly claiming equal part of that expression.  In a sense, this Shabbat is a celebration of the nexus of Zionism and Feminism.  Now, much has been said about the “incompatibility” of Zionism and Feminism.  Yet, that assertion makes no sense to me.  As Einat Wilf[7] writes, “They were both forms of refusal to accept the role that others have assigned to women and Jews. They were forms of self-assertion that cried out: I refuse to be seen how you wish to see me, I refuse to be that which you want me to be, I am not your inferior, I can be so much more than I am allowed to be, and I insist on being free to explore and make the most of my humanity.”[8]  Feminists and Jews are still fighting for this basic equality.  This Shabbat reminds us that we have a voice.  And when we raise it, miracles do indeed occur.
 
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra
 
 
 


[1] Ex. 15:1

[2] Ex. 15:20-21

[3] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[4] The Torah was not given yet, how would they know the lyrics?!?

[5] Deut. 30:14

[6] Sfas Emes 2:66

[7] Einat Wilf (Hebrew: עינת וילף‎, born 11 December 1970) is an Israeli politician who served as a member of the Knesset for Independence and the Labor Party.

[8] http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/252810/anti-feminism-and-anti-zionism

​            This week, we read Parshat Bo, in which we see the completion of the ten plagues that God delivers upon Egypt.  The second to last plague of darkness raises some questions.  What was the nature of the darkness? Why was it so bad?  “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Stretch out your hand towards heaven so that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be felt.’ So, Moses stretched out his hand towards heaven, and there was dense darkness in all the land of Egypt for three days. People could not see one another, and for three days they could not move from where they were; but all the Israelites had light where they lived/וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל-מֹשֶׁה נְטֵה יָדְךָ עַל-הַשָּׁמַיִם וִיהִי חֹשֶׁךְ עַל-אֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם וְיָמֵשׁ חֹשֶׁךְ. וַיֵּט מֹשֶׁה אֶת יָדוֹ עַל-הַשָּׁמָיִם וַיְהִי חֹשֶׁךְ אֲפֵלָה בְּכָל-אֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים. לֹא רָאוּ אִישׁ אֶת-אָחִיו וְלֹא קָמוּ אִישׁ מִתַּחְתָּיו שְׁלֹשֶׁת יָמִים וּלְכָל-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הָיָה אוֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָם.”[1] 
            What is “a darkness that can be felt/וְיָמֵשׁ חֹשֶׁךְ”?  Rashi[2] explains that וְיָמֵשׁ is a contraction[3] of ויאמש which means “the evening darkness.”  He notes that the regular darkness of night will become even more dark than normal.  However, Ibn Ezra[4] interprets the verse to literally mean a darkness that can be touched.[5] Darkness is so scary because we generally do not know what we cannot see or feel.  Yet, this darkness was so thick, that it was tangible and real, making it even scarier.  Dark and enclosed. 
            The Izhbitzer Rebbe[6] teaches that the plague of darkness comes to punish those that are arrogant and do not listen to their parents. “‘Arrogance’ means elevating oneself above another whom he should rather be subdued before, and for this He gave the plague of darkness, as it is written[7], ‘Whoever curses his father and mother, his lamp shall be extinguished in deep darkness.’”[8] 
           When we turn away from those that can instruct us, we are blocking out their light from coming into our lives.  These days, it is so easy to think that we can do everything on our own.  If we have a question, we can just type it in to our phones and the answer pops up.  However, we can never be too sure that we are capable of finding all of the answers on our own.  Though in the darkness of our homes, the light from our devices may appear enticing, they are no substitute for human interaction and real teachers.  The Israelite walks around in light because it is essential to our lives that we listen (שמע!) to what God and our parents and teachers are telling us. If we were to stop, God forbid, we would be in the dark as well.  This week let us try and keep the lights on around us.  By looking to be enlightened by our teachers and those who can guide us out of the darkness, we will banish darkness forever, bringing light with us wherever we go.  Then the darkness will not be felt at all by anyone.    
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Ex. 10:21-23

[2] Shlomo Yitzchaki (Hebrew: רבי שלמה יצחקי‎; Latin: Salomon Isaacides; French: Salomon de Troyes, 22 February 1040 – 13 July 1105), today generally known by the acronym Rashi (Hebrew: רש"י, RAbbi SHlomo Itzhaki), was a medieval French rabbi and author of a comprehensive commentary on the Talmud and commentary on the Tanakh.

[3] Note that the “aleph” drops out.

[4] Abraham ben Meir Ibn Ezra (Hebrew: אַבְרָהָם אִבְּן עֶזְרָא or ראב"ע‎; Arabic: ابن عزرا‎; also known as Abenezra or Aben Ezra, 1089–1167) was born in Tudela, Navarre in 1089, and died c. 1167

[5] As in Psalms 115:7 “They have hands, but do not feel/יְדֵיהֶם וְלֹא יְמִישׁוּן”—you can see this interpretation as well in Classical Midrash in Ex. Rab. 14:1

[6] Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica (Yiddish: איזשביצע, איזביצע‎ Izhbitze, Izbitse, Ishbitze) (1801-1854) was a rabbinic Hasidic thinker and founder of the Izhbitza-Radzyn dynasty of Hasidic Judaism.  Rabbi Mordechai Yosef was born in Tomashov (Polish: Tomaszów Lubelski) in 1801 to his father Reb Yaakov the son of Reb Mordechai of Sekul, a descendant of Rabbi Saul Wahl. At the age two he became orphaned of his father. He became a disciple of Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa where he joined Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk and Rabbi Yosef of Yartshev; both were also born in Tomashov. When Rabbi Menachem Mendel became Rebbe in Kotzk, Reb Mordechai Yosef became his disciple there; then in 1839 became himself a rebbe in Tomaszów, moving subsequently to Izbica.

[7] Prov. 20:20

[8] Mei HaShiloah 1:69, translation by Betsalel Philip Edwards

​           “You can make me cry. You can break my heart.  But I'll never say we're through.  Even when I cry.  I can't stay mad at you…I bounced right back into your arms.  One thing you'll know for sure.  I won't be the one to.  Fall in love with someone new.  I'll love you till I die.  And I can't stay mad at you.”[1] 
            This week we read Parshat Va’Era.  Our story picks up right where we left off.  The words that Moses spoke to God were not pleasant ones.  “Then Moses turned again to the Lord and said, ‘O Lord, why have you mistreated this people? Why did you ever send me? Since I first came to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has mistreated this people, and you have done nothing at all to deliver your people.’”[2]  Then, our parsha begins.  “The Lord/E-lohim also spoke to Moses and said to him: ‘I am God/Ado-nai.../וַיְדַבֵּר אֱלֹקים אֶל-מֹשֶׁה, וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו, אֲנִי ה'.”    Why do we have this doubling of the language?  Spoke and Said.  Lord and God.  What is this seemingly superfluous wording coming to teach us?
            The Isbitzer Rebbe[3] explains that,
After Moshe Rabeynu spoke words against the blessed God, God rebuked him, and this is why the Torah says “[and He spoke/] Vai’daber,” “and E-lohim spoke to Moshe” (as opposed to “He said to him”), which is a form denoting difficulty.  The name “E-lohim” also teaches of this (judgement), so immediately after it says, “and He said [vai’omer] to him.”  This is like one who becomes angry at his friend, yet he loves him; so, when he sees his friend astonished and frightened, he then hints to him that all his anger was only outward and momentary.  Thus it is here, saying, “and He said to him, I am [Ado-nai],” for saying denotes softness meaning that He whispered to him that He is not really angry, God forbid.[4]
Sometimes we get angry at the people we love and care about.  While even God needs to express anger on occasion, that is only on the surface and it is fleeting.  Moses had been stubborn and confrontational. And though God wants it to be clear that this behavior is unacceptable, God still loves, and will always love Moses.
            Even when we are angry with those people that we are close with, and issues may need to be resolved, the key of this teaching is that we must remind those that we are angry with that we still love them, and we will always love them.  Whatever softness we can muster goes a long way in ensuring the offending party, that regardless of the misstep, the relationship is important and will continue.  There is no threat of complete separation.  This parsha reminds us that even if we make God angry, God will always love us.  And we, in turn, must remind those around us of the same thing.  Anger is momentary. Love is forever.
 
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Lyrics by Gerry Goffin and Carole King. Performed by Skeeter Davis.

[2] Ex. 5:22-23

[3] Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica (Yiddish: איזשביצע, איזביצע‎ Izhbitze, Izbitse, Ishbitze) (1801-1854) was a rabbinic Hasidic thinker and founder of the Izhbitza-Radzyn dynasty of Hasidic Judaism.  Rabbi Mordechai Yosef was born in Tomashov (Polish: Tomaszów Lubelski) in 1801 to his father Reb Yaakov the son of Reb Mordechai of Sekul, a descendant of Rabbi Saul Wahl. At the age two he became orphaned of his father. He became a disciple of Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa where he joined Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk and Rabbi Yosef of Yartshev; both were also born in Tomashov. When Rabbi Menachem Mendel became Rebbe in Kotzk, Reb Mordechai Yosef became his disciple there; then in 1839 became himself a rebbe in Tomaszów, moving subsequently to Izbica.

[4] Mei HaShiloah, 1:66. Translation by Betzalel Philip Edwards, Living Waters, pg. 120

​           It is often hard to say “goodbye.”  When parting friends or family for a period of time, this can be difficult.  All the more so when loved ones leave this world.  How should we part? What do we say to each other?
           This week, we conclude the book of Genesis with the reading of Parshat VaYehi.  We will be saying “goodbye” to Jacob and Joseph and the generations of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs.  And Jacob and his sons will attempt to say “goodbye” to each other. The parsha begins right where the last parsha ends. In the scroll itself, there are no spaces between the last verse of last week’s parsha and the first verse of this week’s parsha.  The Rabbis ask, why is this parsha closed[1]?  One explanation is that Jacob sought to reveal to his sons the end time of the impending exile, and so, God caused the divine channels to be closed off from him.[2]
            Jacob calls for his sons to gather by him before he dies. “Then Jacob called his sons, and said: ‘Gather around, that I may tell you what will happen to you in days to come/וַיִּקְרָא יַעֲקֹב אֶל בָּנָיו; וַיֹּאמֶר הֵאָסְפוּ וְאַגִּידָה לָכֶם אֵת אֲשֶׁר-יִקְרָא אֶתְכֶם בְּאַחֲרִית הַיָּמִים.”[3]  If Jacob is not going to tell them about the end of the exile, then what is he going to tell them?  The Sfas Emes[4], points out that calling/kriyah/קריאה is the language of appointment.  Jacob was assigning his sons roles for their future.  Jacob represents the quality of the light of Torah/or Torah/אור תורה and the brothers represent the lamp of commandment/ner mitzvah/נר מצוה.[5]  The sons’ role is to spread the light of Torah in this world, through the 613 commandments.  And this is why Jacob calls his sons to gather by him.  Jacob brings them in close to him, like when one lights candles, and gives its power to them.[6]  
            Jacob’s last instructions were intended to help the brothers bring light into a world where there is darkness and exile.  If he could not tell them when the redemption would begin, he could tell them how to live bright lives even in the narrowest of places.  Jacob lights a fire of inspiration into all the sons.  They must now go forth and illuminate the world around them.  In this way, they never say “goodbye” to Jacob, for his light is the source and essence of theirs.  This week, as we lay the generations of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs to rest, we are reminded that we never have to completely let them go. And the same is true of our loved ones.  If we can see that our light was kindled and grown from their light, as long as we spread the light throughout the world, then they will always live on.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ezra


[1] Meaning that there is no open space between the two parshiyot.

[2] Gen. Rab. 96:1

[3] Gen. 49:1

[4] Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (Hebrew יהודה אריה ליב אלתר‎, 15 April 1847 – 11 January 1905), also known by the title of his main work, the Sfas Emes (Yiddish) or Sefat Emet שפת אמת‎ (Hebrew), was a Hasidic rabbi who succeeded his grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter, as the Av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) and Rav of Góra Kalwaria, Poland (known in Yiddish as the town of Ger), and succeeded Rabbi Chanokh Heynekh HaKohen Levin of Aleksander as Rebbe of the Gerrer Hasidim

[5] See Prov. 6:23

[6] Sfas Emes 1:270