Pesach 5773

The View from the Other Side

As we approach the final days of Pesach, I’m always struck that we put so much emphasis on the beginning of Pesach and the seder and the telling of the story of the plagues and the Exodus – and rightfully so, since so much of the emphasis of the holiday is around those moments of the seder and the meal.

But we also should pay attention to the conclusion of Pesach and the significance of these final days. It’s no accident that we read the story of the splitting of the Red Sea and the Israelites’ crossing over on the seventh day of Pesach. When we really understand the story of the Exodus, we see that there are actually two different kinds of redemption that are told in this story: There is the story we know from the Haggadah from the seder, the story of the bad things that happen to us, and how they stopped; and in life there is that kind of redemption, the end of difficult times in our life. But the end of hard times is not a complete redemption, and so we have also the story of the splitting of the Red Sea, the triumphant escape of the Jewish people, and the moment at which they leave the boundaries of Egypt. They cross through the sea, they merge on the other side, and they are in the wilderness, as their own people, a free people. And that’s the path of liberation that takes us not just out of hard times, but into the promise of good things, the ability to be a free nation with our own destiny, on our way to our own land.

As we, this year, approach the final days of Pesach, it’s a good time to think about ourselves: now that we’re through the seder, now that we’ve considered the hard times and we’ve moved through, what are the good redemptions that we are looking forward to?  What are the new opportunities? What are the hopes that we have for this time, a time that is not only a physical springtime but a spiritual springtime as well?

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach,
Rabbi Abe Friedman

Tzav 5773

TZAV – SHABBAT HAGADOL – TAL

In this week’s Parasha, Tzav, Moshe is told, “Command (Tzav) Aharon and his sons regarding the law of a Burnt-Offering."  The Kohanim were not to eat of this offering, it was to be burnt whole on the Mizbe’ach all night long until it was ashes. There are also many stories about how the ashes were cleaned from the Mizbe’ach but we will leave that for another time.

This is the Shabbat before Pesach, called the Great Sabbath, or Shabbat HaGadol!  We chant a special Haftarah from the book of Malachi, from which most people think is derived the name of the Shabbat itself.  “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great (HaGadol) and awesome day of the Lord.” The parallels to Pesach are quite clear: just as the world was created in the month of Nissan; and the people of Israel were freed of Egyptian slavery in the same month, Nissan; so, too, will they be redeemed of their sins in time to come, in the month of Nissan. As Elijah is the one to announce the coming of our redemption, so Passover tradition calls upon us to open the door for Elijah the prophet to enter and join our Seder. Pesach, representing the redemption of our people from Egypt serves as the great redemption in the time of the Messiah to come.

A curious yet very beautiful prayer is recited once a year, on the first morning of Pesach, at the beginning of the Amidah repetition for Mussaf. It is called TAL, or DEW, a prayer for dew, not in our land but in Eretz Yisrael. Pesach heralds the end of the rainy season in Eretz Yisrael. The coming months are long and very hot and yet, plants grow during this season due to the breezes that bring moisture from the Mediterranean Sea which appear as dew each morning. Without this blessing, all of Israel would be mostly arid. Dew is a symbol of reivival. And so, this prayer speaks of our hope for a rebuilt renewed Jerusalem and Land of Israel; a prayer that has actually been answered after thousands of years.

The musical motifs of Tal bring an almost mystical solemnity to the otherwise celebratory prayers of Pesach. It is traditional for the hazzan or shiliach tzibbur to don a white robe as they would do on the High Holy Days. Dew is no small matter and the prayer for it is taken seriously (as is the prayer “GESHEM’ for rain chanted on Shmini Atzeret in the Fall). We have often had the choir join me for the beautiful setting of Tal by Yossele Rosenblatt. This year, we will be davening in the Malkov Chapel and I will be chanting a special solo setting by my revered teacher, Moshe Ganchoff a”h. I hope to see you in the synagogue during the entire holiday, but I personally invite you to join us for the beautiful and elevating prayer, TAL –

May dew fall upon the blessed land. Fill us with heaven’s finest blessings. May a light come out of the darkness to draw Israel to You as a root finds water from….DEW! 

TAL, TAL, TAL TEIN…LIRTZOT ARTZACH. SHITEYNU BRACHAH, BRACHAH B’DITZACH……………..TAL……TAL……BO T’VAREICH MAZON……B’MASHMANEINU, AL YEHI RAZON

More to come on the first morning of Pesach, Tuesday, March 26 at 9:30 a.m.

Shabbat Shalom,

Hazzan Alberto Mizrahi

Vayikra 5773

What’s the Deal with Sacrifices?

I’m guessing that if I asked people in our community what they thought of korbanot, sacrifices, that most people would respond by saying either something like, “Sacrifices are ancient and do not relate to our times,” or more emphatically, “Sacrifices are a primitive form of worshiping God.”

In a class on tefillah (prayer) for the past few months, a group of us studied how the rabbis borrowed the Biblical model of sacrifices to provide the structure for the timing of our tefillot, our prayer services. (Bavli Berachot 26b) We compared the similarities and differences of prayer and sacrifices. Both have the main goal of connecting with God. Yet there are major differences – prayer can take place anywhere. Prayer requires thought and reflection. Prayer comes from the heart. Prayer has the potential to be universal, in that anyone can pray to God.

Sacrifices, on the other hand, require people to go to a central institution, to be a part of community. Sacrifices require us to give something from ourselves. While sacrifices do cost money, there are varying levels of sacrifices, so that any person who wants can offer a sacrifice. In this sense, sacrifices offer two things that prayer does not – one, that we give something of ourselves, and two, sacrifices do not require fluency in Hebrew or liturgy. Sacrifices are universal, accessible to anyone.

One of the most important rituals today that recalls sacrifice and also has a universal call to give is the Pesach seder. Interestingly, the korban pesach, the Passover offering, was the only sacrifice that was allowed and encouraged to be performed outside of the Temple precincts. Rabbi Yehiel Poupko teaches that the seder instructs us to begin by looking out for the needs of our family. The Pesach ritual starts small, but then zooms out and treat everyone in the world as if they are family. While we do not offer a korban Pesach anymore, it remains the paradigm for envisioning a ritual when we first focus on our nuclear families, and then broaden our scope by viewing every person as a part of our global family.

As we all cram and plan for Pesach, we at Anshe Emet are partnering with Or Tzedek, Moishe House, and Bright Star Church, to celebrate a Hunger Seder. On Sunday, March 17th, we are going to Bright Star to relive parts of the Seder and talk about major issues of hunger today. This ritual will not feel arcane and primitive. Rather, we hope you will join us as we take the model of the korban Pesach, relive it today in a seder that is open and accessible to everyone, and look out for our global family, exploring the particular issue of hunger. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi David Russo

Vayakhel-Pekudei 5773

Exodus and Destiny

Each book of the Torah tells a story, and as Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus, comes to a close this week, it is worth considering the trajectory and meaning of its narrative. 

My teacher, Reb Mimi Feigelson, introduced me to the concept of “bracketed reading,” in which we look at the opening and closing verses or passages of a given work in order to understand not only the contents, but also the frame in which they are held.  If we apply this technique to Sefer Shemot, we immediately see that it is a book directly focused on the Israelites:

o These are the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each with his household (Ex. 1:1);  

o For the cloud of the LORD was on the tabernacle by day, and fire was in it by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel throughout all their journeys (Ex. 40:38). 

At the same time, we notice a subtle shift in language: from the children of Israel in the first verse, to the house of Israel in the last.

While this may not seem like a significant difference, I believe it points us toward a profound change in the Jewish People – a change directly caused by the events of the Book of Exodus (all that stuff in between these verses).  Sefer Shemot begins with the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, and indeed lists all twelve of Jacob’s sons.  Although belonging to a single family, they are nevertheless distinct individuals, the actual children of Israel/Jacob.  United by a common past, these children of Israel come down to Egypt individually, each on his own terms.

By the end of Sefer Shemot, however, we have a different reference point: the final verse now refers to the house of Israel, a collective entity – comprised of many individuals, to be sure, but now defined as a collective whole.  Whereas, at the beginning of our story, the children of Israel were united by a shared past – their family relationships and childhood in the Land of Israel – now, at the end of Sefer Shemot, our attention looks ahead, toward all their journeys to come.  The house of Israel is not merely a group of disparate individuals linked by a shared past; we have become a unified whole, bound together by our shared destiny, throughout all their journeys.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Abe Friedman

Ki Tisa 5773

Ki Tisa 

Moses is known by many names. He is a leader. He is a lawgiver. He is the intercessor for the Jewish people with G-d. But one title that we rarely offer to Moishe is ADAM hamitpalal, “a man of prayer.”

Moses prays more often than any other figure in the Torah. Pharaoh asks him to pray to remove the plagues. Moses prays to G-d in order for the sea to split. In this week’s portion we see the power of Moses’ prayer.

The Jewish people have sinned through the golden calf. They’ve built an idol at the very foot of Mt. Sinai. At the very time when G-d has descended and G-d is filling out the contract of marriage, if you will, to complete the covenant with the Jewish people. G-d is offering the torah and the people have turned to idol worship.

Moishe comes down from the mountain. He stops the apostasy, but when he goes back up the mountain, he learns that G-d desires to destroy the Jewish people and make a new nation from him.

Here again, we see Moishe as Adam hamitpalel: the man of prayer. He offers an exquisite prayer to G-d where he argues with G-d for the sake of the Jewish people. He argues that G-d will be breaking G-d’s own covenant with Abraham. He argues that G-d will be seen by the nations of the world as a G-d who doesn’t keep G-d’s promises.

But in the end, Moishe asks to see the kavode of G-d. G-d has forgiven the Jewish people through the prayer of Moses, but Moses wants the most intimate of prayers and there when he is mikrat ha’tsur: in the crag of the rock, Moishe sees the kavode of G-d and see’s the holiness of the Lord.

What can we learn from this? In an age when prayer has become much more of a communal experience with communal singing, with dancing, with drumming - all of which speak to a new avenue for Jewish prayer and new desires; all valuable in and of themselves.

We need to remind ourselves that true prayer can also be the prayer that we have in moments of solitude.  In the quiet places, when we can look into the deepest regions of our heart and find the intimacy with G-d.

Perhaps that’s why this entire story is told in a portion that begins with the mitzvah of the half shekel, the amount of money that every Israelite was to give to the building of the tabernacle, a place where G-d and Israel would meet. Our rabbis ask why a half shekel and not a whole shekel? And there answer is that one cannot be complete unless they are joined with another person. We’re only whole when we’re in a relationship, so to with G-d.

While we can have remarkably powerful spiritual experiences within a community; we also would do well to each of us learn from the ultimate Adam Himitpalal: man of prayer, Moishe, who taught us the value of praying in the crag of the rock; to become one with G-d and to see the  kavode, the great glory of the holy one.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Michael Siegel