Blog Archives - Temple Beth Sholom of the South Shore

Bereshit פָּרָשַׁת בְּרֵאשִׁית

10/25/2024

Bereshit; We begin again!

But this time we begin the last third of our Parsha, which creates a different kind of challenge from last year’s reading which put us right in the middle of each narrative. Amazingly, when we begin this week’s Parsha, the universe has already been created. We have heaven and earth. We have living creatures. We even have “man” the first human being, even though we see the creation of that first human -ADAM- at the middle portion of the Parsha as well.

We read of that creation earlier in Bereshit:

“The Lord God formed man from the dust of the earth. He blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being.”

Think about this for a moment. God is omnipotent, all powerful. That means that God could have created human beings out of anything. It also means that God could have created human beings out of NOTHING. Yet here we see that God chose to create us out of the “dust of the earth.” In some way, we could not have had more humble beginnings. Perhaps that’s the point- if we keep in our pocket the message that we are “nothing but dust,” it would be pretty hard to become arrogant and vain. We also can’t help but think of how we also return to dust when we die, dust to dust. Rashi tells us that this passage reminds us that we are all a combination of the earthly and the divine. This is a beautiful sentiment that we can keep in mind as we worry about our place in the universe. But, in addition, think about the fact that we are from the earth.

I know that most interpretations of Genesis focus on Adam’s POWER over the earth, including the animals. But the fact that we come from the earth perhaps also gives us not only power but also RESPONSIBILITY. Responsibility to treat the earth with care and respect. To think of the earth as our original home, our original state, and to think of ourselves in partnership with the planet. If we consider that perspective and focus less on our control, then perhaps we can learn to live more harmoniously with nature and the miracles around us.

Sukkot סוּכּוֹת

10/18/2024

Rabbi Yissacher Frand writes:

After Yaakov met Esav, they (at least partially) reconciled, and then they decided to go their separate ways. The pasuk says, “So Esav went back that day on his way toward Seir. Then Yaakov journeyed to Succos and built himself a house, and for his livestock he made shelters (Succos); therefore he called the name of the place Succos.” [Bereishis 33:16-17].

There are two problems with this pasuk. The first is that Yaakov only called the name of the place Succos after he got there (after he erected the shelters (Succos) for the livestock). Nevertheless, the pasuk says “he journeyed to Succos” as if that was the pre-existing name of the town. Of course, we can say that the pasuk is speaking in “prophetic future tense” — i.e., Yaakov journeyed to the place that in the future he would name Succos. However, it is strange to find it written that way.

The other question is that it seems that Yaakov named the town for a very insignificant fact — namely the structures he built for his cattle. Why is the town (apparently) named for the huts he made for his livestock?

The author of the sefer Milchemes Yehuda discusses these questions. He says that the pasuk is teaching that Succos is not merely a place on the map — it is a state of mind. The Torah is teaching that Yaakov Avinu is now entering the final stage of his life. Yaakov lived in his parents’ house for many years, during which time he sat and learned. Then he went to Yeshivas Shem V’Ever for another fourteen-year period where, again, he sat and learned. Then, as a fugitive running for his life, he left Eretz Yisrael— the Promised Land — and worked by Lavan for twenty years. He worked for one wife, then he worked for another wife, and then he needed to earn a bit of a livelihood for himself. This was all a prelude for the final stage of his life. Now, Yaakov is coming back to Eretz Yisrael. In today’s terminology, he is finally “settling down.”

Yaakov makes a decision. He said to himself, when I was by Lavan, I saw what is involved in earning a living. I saw how Lavan acts. I am now beginning “the rest of my life.”  I have seen enough of life to know that materialism (gashmiyus) and the struggle to make a living and all other mundane pursuits in this world can become a person’s raison d’etre — they can become the reason for a person’s existence. I do not want this to happen to me because I know that the only thing that counts in this world is spirituality (ruchniyus) and service of Hashem. All the rest is just peripheral. It may be necessary, but it is only a means to an end.

So therefore, when the pasuk says that Yaakov traveled to Succos, it is not referring to the name of that town. It is referring to this concept that a person must look at his pursuit of gashmiyus — the material things in life — houses, livelihood, cattle — as merely just travelling “to Succos.”  It is all temporary. A person cannot take it with him. All these acquisitions are not going to make a bit of difference after 120 years. They are all transitory.

They are like a Succah. When someone is out camping, he does not put up a house for his ten-day camping trip. People put up tents, because it is just a temporary situation. Yaakov traveled to Succos:  “Now I am starting my life — I have finished with Lavan, I have finished with Eisav – so now I am beginning. My mindset is to Succos.”  I called the name of the city I would live in “Temporary Huts” [Succos] because I am making a statement for myself and for my children that this entire world must be viewed in the context of a temporary dwelling — “Succos.”

Parshat Ha’azinu פָּרָשַׁת הַאֲזִינוּ

10/4/2024

In this week’s parsha, Ha’azinu, we see Moshe’s last words, and we also reach the moment of his death. God reminds him that he is not going to cross over into the Promised Land, but God also tells Moshe that he will allow him a look into that land. In fact, it’s pretty much the last lines of the parsha: “You may view the land from a distance, but you shall not enter it—the Land that I am giving to the Israelite people.”

I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a punishment—to see something that you’ve yearned for your whole life but can’t have. So, I’ll leave it to all of you to decide if God is being compassionate or being just a little bit more spiteful. And God also reminds Moshe of WHY he is not allowed to enter Eretz Israel—along with Aaron, God says, you “both broke faith with me among the Israelite people; at the waters of Meribath-Kadesh in the wilderness of Zin, by failing to uphold My sanctity among the Israelite people.”

I know many of us are bothered by what might seem like an extreme punishment. God is taking from Moshe what had been his very purpose for existence---to reach the Promised Land. How awful for Moshe that must have been! And it’s even more complicated—we know that the Israelites are hardly a perfect people. Yet they are allowed to enter, and Moshe—the awnav, the teacher, the leader—is not. Somehow it just doesn’t seem fair. And all over banging a rock!

I felt that way as well, and struggled with this part of the narrative. I mean, think about it: Cain KILLS HIS BROTHER, and he’s only sent into exile. Why would Moshe not be able to see the fruits of all of his labors? Of more than 40 years of sacrifices for those stiff-necked people? But then, I started to think about this in a different way. I kept thinking about a metaphor of the circle, of the idea that we are commanded to draw big circles, big circles that become the stories of our lives. Not little scribbles but circles so large that we can’t see the entire circle. Circles so large that we just see an arc.

That’s what Moshe did. He is, to use some of the words applied at times to Shimon Peres, a “magnificent failure.” On some level, it makes sense that he doesn’t enter the Land of Milk and Honey because life doesn’t work that way. Life is always—God willing—full of incomplete projects and unfinished tasks. Books not read, trips not taken, plans not completed, great great great grandchildren we’ll never meet. But that doesn’t mean that we have not accomplished great things in our lives. In fact, if we stop, if we are “complete,” then we have nothing to look forward to. If we stop moving, then we stop yearning, we stop striving for more. As Rabbi Josh told us last Habbas, there are times for Nitzavim, for us to stand stationary, and times for Vayelech, for us to propel ourselves forward.

Moshe DID accomplish his life’s mission—he led the Jewish people back to their homeland. He sees it from a distance, so he knows what they will likely experience. He has blessed Joshua, and given him responsibility for this next stage in Jewish history. So, in part, this is a narrative about passing on the baton to new leadership and to new generations. Every good leader needs a succession plan, and Moshe—with God’s help—has found one. But Ha’azinu, like everything else in the Torah, is also a more universal story, a story that speaks to all of us, not just leaders. Ha’azinu tells us that we can take pride in our accomplishments, take pride in living our life passionately and with principle, even if we pass from this earth with our missions incomplete. Let us pray that we can all be “magnificent failures.”