Our Parsha of the week, Kedoshim, gives us the immense gift of the Holiness Code: "How to live our day-to-day lives" in a way that uplifts us and others. One dictate is that we should not place a stumbling-block in front of a blind person. How can this be understood?
In our complicated and stressful society, there have arisen numerous professions devoted to giving advice to others and receiving a fee for so doing. Such professions as financial planners, estate managers and programmers, therapists for both mental and physical wounds, marriage and divorce counselors and other areas in which current society is populated, if not even dominated by these advice givers. No one can expect perfection from another human being and many times the advice or planning that is suggested and adopted may turn out to be less than constructive, even with the best of intentions. The Torah does not expect perfection from those from whom we seek advice; that would be way too high a bar. But the Torah does expect honesty and transparency. It’s always possible that there’s a tinge of self-interest on the part of the counselor or therapist involved. After all, this is the manner in which that person makes a living. Yet, as far as humanly possible, the Torah does demand objectivity, fairness, and intelligence when giving such advice, whether it be from a professional in the field or even from a friend or neighbor. We are repeatedly warned in the Torah and in the Talmud not to volunteer advice to others in areas where we are not requested to, especially if we are not expert in those fields. It is dangerous and an enormous responsibility to give advice to others. In biblical times, prophecy was available but in our world prophecy, as far as I know, no longer exists. Both the person seeking advice and the one granting such advice should be very careful not to create the stumbling block that will cause the ‘blind person’ to fall. Kedoshim exhorts us to respect everyone, it’s a positive command to see everyone in their best possible light, to see all other human beings as created in God’s image. And the rule—not to put an obstacle in front of the blind, is a negative injunction; it’s telling us that one way to respect others is not to make their lives harder. Not to get in their way; in other words, if you can’t do something good, if you can’t do something to benefit another person, don’t do anything at all. I’m sure that all this is also connected to loshan hara , but that’s for another time and discussion. Kedoshim deals with the overall directive to be holy. How can we be holy? How can we learn to treat others as holy? Our sages teach us that if we judge others favorably, then God will judge us favorably. The stranger. The widow. The poor. The slave. The disenfranchised. The broken, whether in body or in spirit. All are holy. All are created in God’s image. Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other. Let us strive to see that in others and to nurture the best in ourselves. And let us say AMEN.
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This week's post-Pesach Torah reading is Acharei Mot, After the Death of Aaron’s two sons. We cannot be sure about the reason for their demise, but what we certainly can do is attempt to learn from their dire experience.
So: how do we learn from our mistakes? One way is by admitting them. Because if we don’t admit them, we certainly can’t move on. Many brilliant leaders have stories about mistakes they made that led them to discoveries, inventions, or innovations. Has anyone ever heard of the Apple Lisa? The Macintosh TV? The Apple III? The Powermac g4 cube? I’m guessing not. . . Those were all failed inventions of Steve Jobs. Maybe one reason we don’t feel comfortable making mistakes is that we almost never hear of the ways even the most successful people make mistakes. I suspect the difference is that they learn from them—at least they know what DOESN’T work—and they move on. Undeterred by failure. Oscar Wilde once said that “Experience is the name that we give to all the mistakes that we have made.” How would we otherwise learn? We learn to walk by falling down. Perhaps we can learn to see a mistake as a detour, not a dead end. As gifts that enable us to grow and to make progress. And to remember the famous Winston Churchill statement: “Everyone makes mistakes, but only the wise learn from them.” If we refuse to admit our mistakes, then they fester, and we get stuck in pride and denial. At the other extreme, if we wallow in our mistakes, and assume the worst about ourselves, then we can never move on. We will forever see ourselves as failures. In both extremes, we rob ourselves of our ability to move outside of ourselves and to connect in an authentic way with other people. May we never be afraid to make a mistake or to admit a mistake. Doing so is the glue that connects us, each to the other. The flaws in each of us can give us depth and nuance. Depending on how we deal with them, they can shine a light on our true character. I know that we often pray the Leonard Cohen version of Hallelujah, but there is a beautiful passage from another Leonard Cohen song that is worth mentioning in this context. The song is called ANTHEM, and here is the refrain from that moving and haunting song: (is there anything in Leonard Cohen that ISN’T haunting??) Anyway, here’s the stanza: Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in. Our ancestors looked for a perfect offering, but we now know that that is an impossibility. But the imperfections that are in us and in the world, the “cracks,” as Leonard Cohen describes them, are “how the light gets in.” Let us pray that we learn to see them, to appreciate them, and to learn from them. from Rabbi David Wolpe
This year as the Jewish community gathered at the Seder table to eat bitter herbs, we recalled the hardships of our ancestors and the ordeals of those who still suffer. We cannot forget the images of our brothers and sisters who are hostages, in cruel captivity; those families who sit at the seder in bitter anguish wondering about the fate of those whom they love; families who sit at the table that is not full, for loved ones killed in battle, injured and unable to join, serving their country even on the holiday — reminders of the legacy of a hatred all too alive with us today. Maror is the taste of absence, the sign of the empty seat. As with taking drops from our cups for the fallen Egyptians, we do not forget the sufferings of others... those in war zones everywhere who undergo deprivation and suffering. As with the generations who preceded us, we do not shut our hearts to the pain of human beings no matter where they may be. As hatred rises against the Jewish people across the globe, we are particularly mindful that maror is supposed to bring tears to our eyes. We weep for the legacy of antisemitism that has brought so much destruction into God’s world. We weep for those who even today, 3,000 years after our people were born, feel they cannot be fully free because of the prejudice against them, against their children, against our small family of faith. Maror brings pain but not despair. We combine it with Haroset to remind us that the world is also full of sweetness, and it is our task to feel both, the honey and the sting, the tribulations, and the richness of tradition, the bitter and the sweet. As we taste the maror and recall the anguish that afflicts our people and our world, we hope that in the year to come, there will be less pain, fewer who suffer, and more who can celebrate at home and in peace. Sincerely, Rabbi David Wolpe Rabbinic Fellow ADL Our parsha this week, Tazria, begins with instructions of a mother’s purity following childbirth. It’s interesting to note that there is a difference between the period of “uncleanliness” if the baby is a boy or a girl. So before we point to the apparent inequity here which seems to be based on gender, we need to ask the obvious question; Why is there impurity at all associated with the miracle and joy of bringing a baby to life, and a new soul into the world.
The answer comes as we look at a pregnant woman. Here we have life, the basic building block of purity, in fact, during pregnancy there are two lives present here. Now, following childbirth, there is a reduction in the number of souls down from 2 to 1, and from sort of a dark place, or from only a spiritual place, in the mother herself, there is actually a reduction of life. A loss of a life within her, and along with the loss comes a loss of purity. It’s the same concept that tells us that a dead body itself is the most impure thing in the Torah because there is an absence of a soul. So why the difference of 7 to 14 days of impurity between boys and girls? We see the wisdom of Torah here once again in these cryptic verses. The longer period of impurity after having a girl is because the mother has not only lost the soul of the baby that was inside her, but the baby she birthed ALSO has the potential to carry and create more life of her own in her future. Finally, the 7 days of impurity for a boy. The overriding commandment and mitzvah for a baby boy is the bris which must take place on the 8th day. Even if the 8th day lands on Shabbat, the bris is to move forward. This mitzvah is so critical, that it overrides the sanctity of Shabbat. It is important that the bris be a celebration and joyous occasion. We ask; how can that be the case if the mother is still in a state of impurity? So that a mother may rejoice with the community in this event, her time of impurity is limited to seven days. This affords her the opportunity to become ritually clean through the waters of the Mikvah and then she may then fully celebrate one of our oldest mitzvot. The remainder of the parshah includes discussion about skin conditions, understood to be punishment from the divine, and how they were treated. So we do have a few laws of purity and impurity that have remained part of Jewish custom even today. And the beautiful part is in thinking about how the rabbis place a priority of joy and celebration, over isolation and sadness. Our parsha Shemini opens with a very dramatic scene—after seven days of celebrating, it is time to dedicate the mishkan. Aaron, the high priest, is finally to have a starring role. And what happens? Moshe tells him, “Approach the altar, and prepare the sin offering.” What might this mean? On the one hand, it might seem like a simple instruction to begin the ritual. But some commentators infer from the statement, “Approach the altar” that Moshe is trying to get his brother to overcome his reluctance to approach the altar. In other words, Aharon hesitates. He is fully aware of what his duties are, but he isn’t sure of himself. So why might that be?
One possible explanation is that Aaron is truly awestruck—he is so overcome with the enormity of his role, with the prospect of being so close to the Divine Presence. The rabbis compare his feeling in that moment to the nervousness a bride feels when she is about to marry a king. But — of course — there’s another interpretation of Aaron’s hesitation. According to some, as Aaron approached the altar, he saw the decorative horns at the edge of the mishkan. Those forms reminded him of the sin of the Golden Calf, and he felt ashamed of his role in that terrible betrayal. As a result, Aaron wasn’t sure that he deserved to go to the altar. Moshe’s saying “approach” would seem to be letting his brother know that God (and Moshe) have forgiven him. But we know that the narrative doesn’t stop there. On what should be a day of great celebration, two of Aaron’s sons are struck down by God in the Temple. No one knows for sure why God exacts such a harsh punishment, though there are many theories that try to explain it. But what interests me here is the contrast between Aaron and his two sons Nadab and Abihu. How unlike their father they are. Where Aharon hesitates, Nadab and Abihu are almost too eager to offer a sacrifice. And so, they light a “strange fire,” the Torah tells us. A strange fire that was not commanded by God. And they pay the ultimate price for that. There seems to be a lesson here for us: perhaps that lesson is that good leaders (and wise people in general) need to learn to find a balance between the reticence of Aaron and the impetuousness of his two sons. We all need to learn when it is appropriate to jump in, and when we might want to wait. Think for a moment. Are you more like Aaron, or more like his two impetuous sons? Maybe you tend to err more on one side or the other, to jump into action too quickly or to doubt yourself and hesitate. I don’t mean to suggest here that there is one right way to conduct yourself. It’s probably true that different situations call out for different types of responses. In an emergency, for example, I think we’d want Abihu and Nadab. But even though we still have so many unanswered questions about parsha Shemini, we can nonetheless glean a life lesson that can benefit all of us. Let’s learn to evaluate a situation so that we know whether we should take action or wait for others to invite us in. Because we are approaching Pesach, I thought a Passover-themed message would be appropriate...
A Passover Story: Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev (1740-1809) spent his life acting as the self-appointed character witness for the Jewish people, engaging in a constant dialogue with G‑d, pointing out the unique qualities of every Jew he met. The following is one of the best-known "Berdichever" stories: It was the afternoon before Passover, and Rabbi Levi Yitzchak was wandering through the streets of the Jewish quarter seeking out local smugglers. From one he quietly asked for a quote on contraband tobacco, from another he enquired about the availability of smuggled brocades and embroideries. No matter the merchandise he sought, everything was available for the right price. However, when he started asking his newfound acquaintances to supply him with some bread or whiskey, those very same businessmen who had previously proved so accommodating balked. "Rabbi," said one, "are you trying to insult me? The seder will be starting in just a few hours and no Jew would have even a speck of chametz left in his home or business." Not one merchant was able to come up with even a crumb of bread or dram of alcohol. No matter the price offered, not one merchant was willing or able to come up with even a crumb of bread or dram of alcohol. The town had been converted into a Chametz-Free Zone. Thrilled with the results of his failed quest, the rabbi looked up to heaven and declared: "G‑d Almighty, look down with pride at Your people! The Czar has border guards and tax-commissioners dedicated to his commands. The police and the courts are devoted to tracking down and punishing smugglers and black-marketers, and yet, anything one could possibly want is available. Contrast this with the faith and fidelity of Your Jews. It has been over 3,000 years since you commanded us to observe Passover. No police, no guards, no courts and jails enforce this edict—and yet every Jew keeps Your laws to the utmost!" "Mi k'amcha Yisrael – Who is like Your nation, Israel?!" Please see the Sale of Chametz form available from our office or thru this link CHAMETZ CONTRACT We strive to make our homes a Chametz-Free Zone!! A Sweet Pesach to All! The book of Leviticus is all too often described as a book that deals merely with sacrifices. While sacrifice and ritual are an important topic in the Leviticus, the third book of the Torah, the major theme of this volume is Kedusha, holiness. Leviticus presents the Jew with a guide for leading a life of holiness as well as ethical, spiritual, and physical purity. Later in Leviticus we read not only of sacrifices but also the laws of Kashruth. The book also contains some of the most important statements of morality ever written, such as “Love your neighbor as yourself”.
Some questions about this momentous book of the Torah: 1. In Eastern Europe, it has been the custom of Jews to begin teaching the Torah to their children by introducing them to the book of Leviticus first. Only after the child had mastered Vayikrah would he or she be introduced to the books of Genesis and Exodus. Why begin teaching children the third book of the Torah first? What special significance is there in Leviticus for youngsters who are discovering the world of Judaism? 2. Despite the importance of sacrifices for the Jewish people in ancient Israel, many of the prophets condemned and even made fun of this practice. Hosea, among others, criticized the Jewish people by saying, “For I desire mercy and not sacrifice and the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings”. If sacrifices were such an important aspect of the Torah, why were the prophets so critical of them? 3. The Hebrew word for sacrifice is Korban (Chapter 1, Verse 2). This Hebrew word is derived from the Hebrew root word Karayv - to come closer to God. In what ways did the sacrificial rite help the average Jew come closer to God? What means do we use today, outside of prayer, to come closer to God? How are prayer and Korbanot similar to one another? 4. Parshat Vayyikra presents a sliding scale of sacrifices based on economic ability. Whether the individual offered a peace offering, a burnt offering, or a sin offering, he was given the right to choose how large an animal he sacrificed. Since the size of the animal apparently did not affect the worth of the offering, why was it necessary to have larger and smaller animals? Why not have a small symbolic sacrifice for everyone? 5. The sin offering which is described in our parshah (Chapter 4-5) was offered when a sin was committed through error. Why should a person be held accountable if it was only forgetfulness or ignorance that led a person to sin, why should the person be held accountable? When someone commits a wrong against us, do we consider the person’s intentions before criticizing or forgiving him? Why doesn’t the Torah do the same with regard to an unintentional sin? Our parsha of Pekudei tells us:
“And Moshe did; according to all that God had commanded him, so he did. It came to pass in the first month, in the second year, on the first day of the month, that the Mishkan was set up.” And the Talmud tells us: “When (the month of) Adar enters we increase in joy!” So, there is clearly a connection between the building of the Mishkan, the moveable sanctuary, and the month of Adar, which includes the joyous holiday of Purim. What is so significant about building the Mishkan that it takes up so much space in the Torah? We have about 4 and ½ chunky Torah portions packed with detailed descriptions of what was commanded and how it was executed with precision. And every year we revisit this account of what was essentially a singular event in history for the plan for a Temple that we’ll never replicate. And, throughout the rest of the year, we confront so many places in the Torah where the hallachot are not clear, and the narratives of our ancestors are thin and full of missing details. Why? And how does that connect with Purim and the month of Adar? In other words... why are the building of the Temple and the month of Adar intended to bring about an increase in joy? To provide a possible answer, I want to tell two stories. Here’s one: A Jewish comedian (is that redundant?) once went to the airport to pick up his mother in-law. On the way home, he asked her, “How long are you staying?” She replied, “As long as you want.” He responded in amazement: “You’re not even coming in for a cup of coffee?” And here’s the other: When the Kotzker rebbe was a precocious child of three, his rabbi asked him, “Where can God be found?” The child answered: “Everywhere!” His Rebbe shook his head and made clear that that answer was incorrect. So, he asked the child again, only to get the same response. Finally, the Rabbi told him the RIGHT answer: “God can be found only where He is invited to enter.” Here we are at the end of Exodus, and after so many parshiyot devoted to details, it’s easy to miss the big picture, to confuse the forest and the trees. Here, at the end of parshat Pekudei, we witness the completion of the Temple, and we see the manifestation of God’s presence in cloud and fire, a presence that it meant to protect us throughout the rest of our journey. But, even as we travel, and we need to travel, we have a building, a home, a sanctuary, a sacred space where we invite God into our lives. Where we became a true people. The name of the month ADAR in Hebrew is ALEPH-DALET-REISH. ALEPH stands for G-d, Adonai, Who is one. The first time ALEPH is used at the beginning of a word in Torah is ELOCHIM. DALET- REISH spells DAR, to reside. HASHEM finds residence with us in ADAR. It’s not just when we enter the time zone of Adar that we increase in joy but rather when ADAR enters and penetrates us, to that extent joy is multiplied. Purim is packed with eating and drinking with gusto. Yet, in just such a setting, we joyously welcome God into our very midst, in complete fulfillment of the destiny of the Jews. This Shabbat we read from two scrolls
The Vayakhel Scroll Studying the Mishkan: Rabbeinu Bachaya strongly encourages us to study, as deeply as possible, the entire system of the Mishkan/Tabernacle, the dimensions of all its vessels, etc., for there is great advantage in this pursuit. He states that whether or not we reach the higher plane of discovering some of the secret meanings in these items and their measurements, or even if we determine little more than the mathematical computations involved, in the z’chut, merit, that we show such dedicated interest in the Mishkan, God will restore it to us. This is the deeper meaning of the daily Psalm that we read on Mondays (Psalm 48,) which concludes with these verses: "Surround Zion, count its towers, note carefully its courtyards" (i.e. study well its dimensions... for what purpose?... so that the day will come that you can say: "This is God, our God" i.e. the Shechinah will once again be present and felt in the rebuilt Mikdash.) Shekalim: The Maftir Scroll This section is read to mark this Shabbat before Rosh Chodesh Adar II-Shabbat Shekalim. It is a preparation for Purim which we will commemorate during the coming month. It mandates a contribution from each Jew of a half-shekel for the upkeep of holy space. The funds also underwrote the communal sacrifices offered daily in the Temple. The fiscal year for the Temple began in Nissan, the first month of our calendar, so the reading served as a reminder of the due date approaching for this tax and of the necessity to pay it over to the Kohanim. Haftorat Shekalim This prophetic reading reinforces the message of individual contributions for the greater good; for the administration of sacrifices and the upkeep of sacred space. As we have evolved from the concept of animal sacrifice as a method of atonement of sins to our present practice of pursuing acts of chesed and tzedakah, this Haftorah urges us to support our religious and charitable institutions. We can do this with funds as well as donating our time and talents to the public good, to our Temple and to other worthy organizations. Mishkan/Tabernacle
Hashem designates Betzalel as the master craftsman for the construction of the Mishkan/Tabernacle and all its utensils. The Torah identifies Betzalel by his lineage; Betzalel is Chur’s grandson. According to the Midrash the people killed Chur during the debacle of the Golden Calf. Perhaps Hashem calling for Betzalel by name was to choose somebody, not just for his wisdom, but for the fact that his grandfather was an important part of the story. Betzalel becomes the agent for the people to gain atonement, not just for the sin of the Golden Calf but also for killing his grandfather. The people had to agree to have Betzalel do this work. Even though he was quite young (according to the Midrash Betzalel was 13!) it was really necessary for them to agree. In general, the people had to agree to all of its leaders, even if the leader was chosen by Hashem. The Golden Calf When the Jewish people were about to exit Egypt, the angels complained to Hashem, bringing up the people’s past while in Egypt. They had been seriously immersed in idolatry, which was the standard culture of Egypt. That immersion for a couple of centuries played a very important role in the makeup of the Jewish people. When Hashem brought the Ten Plagues it was not only to liberate the Jews but also to destroy the Egyptian deities. This was a public display of Hashem’s power and his ability to destroy other gods and demonstrate to all that these other gods and idols are false. B’nei Yisrael would require a vast education and not just a year of miraculous divine events. When Moshe left and ascended Mount Sinai the people lapsed into what they were used to back in Egypt. Even after the Revelation at Sinai, with the Torah at their doorstep, the people had already articulated Na’aseh V’nishma – we will do and we will listen (accept), this was not lasting and strong enough to totally eradicate and uproot centuries of idolatry. This is what the Golden Calf made us realize. How many Jewish people really served the Golden Calf? Judging from the count of the dead, approximately 3,000, yet all the people were going to suffer for this. Hashem was going to punish them all. It seems unfair that few people committed such a crime and everybody would suffer. The rest of the people were not able to step it up. They were not able to stop the ringleaders from creating the Golden Calf. Midrashically, as mentioned earlier, they killed Chur, Moshe’s nephew. Most of the people stood aside; there was no involvement and no objection. In fact, when Moshe called for support and action, only the tribesmen of Levi came forward. That meant that most of the people at that time were not ready to step up and act on behalf of Hashem for the glory of Hashem. The Golden Calf is a prime example of the sin of a few that can bring great harm to the many. |
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