Ha'Azinu 5774

Eagles and a New Year

In this week’s parsha, Ha’azinu we read a beautiful metaphor about the relationship of God and Israel (Deut. 32:11).  The Torah compares God to an eagle who protects its young by raising them on the eagles’ wings.

The metaphor is a poignant one for this time of year.

First, that each of us need support at various times in our lives. We need help. Sometimes one of us might be in the position of the eagle, supporting others and lifting each other up; and at other times like the nestling, leaning on family, friends, or members of the community for support.

The other key element to the metaphor is that, according to our rabbis, most birds carry their young beneath their wings, to protect them from the dangers above.  The eagle, on the other hand, is the highest-flying bird in the sky. The eagle raises up their young on their wings, to protect them from what is below. The eagle lifts others up.

So too, our relationship with God and one another is meant to raise us up, to help us soar. We sought to do that this year through explorations of Rosh Hashanah in the month of Elul with our rabbis and Hazzan, and by offering fascinating learning options during Rosh Hashanah services themselves by Jessica Fisher, Dr. Gary Porton, and Rabbi Zachary Silver. We hope that you had a chance to be inspired through these classes, and will continue to seek those out this coming year.

May this week of Rosh Hashanah and the Yamim Noraim - the High Holy Days - be the beginning of a year filled with blessing and happiness, sweetness and health.

And may we all find the support that we need while simultaneously being able to support each other, helping each other soar to new heights.

Shabbat shalom and Shana Tova,

Rabbi David Russo

Ki Teitzei 5773

A Complicated Inheritance

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, contains dozens of mitzvot – but the second law in our parshah presents a difficult problem:

If a man has two wives, the one loved and the other unloved, and both the loved and the unloved have borne him children, and if the firstborn son belongs to the unloved, then on the day when he assigns his possessions as an inheritance to his sons, he may not treat the son of the loved as the firstborn in preference to the son of the unloved, who is the firstborn, but he shall acknowledge the firstborn, the son of the unloved, by giving him a double portion of all that he has, for he is the firstfruits of his strength. The right of the firstborn is his (Deut. 21:15-17).

On its own, this seems like a rather unexceptional mitzvah, a push for fairness in families in order to promote harmony and peace in the home.  But a sensitive reader of Torah will notice that these verses, while dealing in abstract categories, are a near-perfect description of our patriarch Jacob and his family: If a man has two wives, the one loved – Rachel – and the other unloved – Leah – and the firstborn son belongs to the unloved – Reuben – he may not treat the son of the loved as the firstborn in preference to the son of the unloved – just as Jacob did by favoring Joseph, Rachel’s son, over his brothers!

How should we understand the tension between Jacob’s story and the law as presented in parashat Ki Teitzei? It is possible to read the rules of inheritance, as presented here, as a direct response to Jacob’s conduct so many generations earlier. Yes, it is true, our ancestor did this; but we recognize the unfairness of his behavior and the consequences it brought on his family, and as we prepare to end our journeys in the wilderness and set up a society in the Promised Land, we want to ensure fairness for all. Even as we look to Jacob as an ancestor and role model, the Torah is still willing to think critically about his behavior and, when necessary, make changes.

As we approach the season of repentance, we would all do well to follow in the path laid out by the Torah in its laws of inheritance: to take stock of our past actions, assess them critically, and make changes as necessary.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Abe Friedman

Shoftim 5773

Summertime Thoughts on the Pursuit of Justice

Although we are now in August and have just ushered in the month of Elul it is still summer.  Like so many others I become nostalgic for summer camp – and in my case for Camp Ramah in the Berkshires where I spent nearly 20 summers as both camper and staff member.  Camp remains a special place because I learned so many important life lessons in camp.  During my first summer as a “madrikh” (counselor) I remember disciplining a camper by threatening to dock him from canteen.  My advisor overheard my “conversation” and asked if I was familiar with the verse from this week’s parasha, Shoftim:  “Tzedek tzedek tirdof!” (usually translated as: “Justice, justice you shall surely pursue!”).

He asked me the same question which commentators have been asking for centuries, namely, why does the verse repeat the word “tzedek/justice”?  Why not simply command that we pursue justice?  The answer we agreed upon was that this is the basis for our understanding that God not only expects us to pursue justice, but to think ethically and behave justly at all times.  The lesson:  even in camp the punishment has to fit the crime and if there is no connection between the misbehavior of the camper and docking him from canteen then that is not a “just” response.  Even rewards and punishments in summer camp have to be consistent with that part of our mission as Jews that demands justice in every situation.

Our sages have pointed out that we read this parasha and its teachings (e.g. -that we seriously pursue justice and that we creating a working and functioning system of government that guarantees fairness and justice for all) just as we begin the countdown to Rosh Hashana and the new year.

This means that our pursuit of justice and our efforts at “heshbon nefesh” (our taking stock of our deeds during the past year) will not only intersect but are interwoven.  This is underscored by the opening words of the parasha:  “Shoftim v’shotrim titen lekha.. / You shall establish judges and officers in all your gates” (Devarim 16:18)  The commentators teach that the words “titen lekha/you shall establish” signify that before we call upon judges and officers to deal with the actions of others we must judge and make an accounting for our own actions.

This echoes the teaching found in Pirkei Avot (The Teachings of the Fathers): "Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in his place." (2:5)  These are excellent guidelines for us to consider as we begin the process of “heshbon nefesh” in preparation for the new year and we seriously consider what each of us needs to do to bring justice into the world rather than criticize others.

Shabat Shalom,

Rabbi Matt Futterman
Senior Educator

Re'eh 5773

Re'eh 5773

I would like introduce you to a translation of the Torah that you may not have heard of before, by Dr. Everett Fox. Dr. Fox seeks to provide a translation of the Torah that sounds as close to the original Hebrew as possible. Here is an example from this week’s parsha, Devarim 15:7-8:

“When there is among you a needy-person from any-one of your brothers within one of your gates, in the land that God is giving you, you are not to toughen your heart, you are not to shut your hand to your brother, the needy-one. Rather, you are to open, yes, open your hand to him…”

Where most translators would translate the original Hebrew  as: “open your hand,” or “you shall surely open your hand,” Fox strives to translate in a fashion similar to the original Hebrew, “open, yes, open your hand.” Here he is emphasizing a phrase that grammarians call this the “infinitive absolute,” where the verb is repeated in order to emphasize the critical nature of this Biblical imperative.

In these verses, we are commanded not to toughen our hearts and shut our hands. The parsha continues as if we did not listen the first time, by repeating this in verse 11:

For the needy will never be-gone from amid the land; therefore I command you, saying: You are to open, yes, open your hand to your brother, to your afflicted-one, and to your needy-one in your land!

There are times when I, and I am guessing many of you, wonder, when can this tzedaka work end? Is it worth doing this if we will never be able to solve issues of poverty in our world?

The Torah emphasizes this harsh reality, while also encouraging us – yes, it is overwhelming. Yes, there is a lot of poverty, hunger, homelessness, around us. And no, it is not going away. But, still, patoach tiftach, open your hand, keep working at it, for we must support our neighbors who need help.

It is around this time of year that we ask for your help. In the end of August, we pack and deliver food for the holidays for Jews in our community who otherwise may not be able to have festive meals. We also have a food drive during the High Holy Days to support the Ark. And, we are in high gear, with our Na’aseh, our social justice committee, leading the charge in coordinating volunteers for the Uptown Café and the Night Ministry. But we need your help. Please feel free to contact me or Ashley Kain (ashleykain15@gmail.com). Because if more of us are opening our hands, we can be the people who, even though we don’t solve all of the world’s issues of poverty, can still make a difference for those in our community who need help.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi David Russo

Eikev 5773

Eikev 5773

Judaism has a rich tradition of blessings. We have ways to thank God for everything from returning safely from a long journey to seeing a rainbow, and many religious Jews aim to utter 100 blessings every day. Parshat Ekev is the source of one of the most recognizable Jewish blessings: Birkat haMazon, the blessing after a meal. Blessing our food is not an exclusively Jewish concept, but the Torah tells us that "when you have eaten your fill, you shall bless the LORD your God for the good land that He has given you" (Deuteronomy 8:10)-- that is, we thank God after we have eaten. It is one thing to be grateful for our blessings when they are sitting in front of us, and to remind ourselves to give thanks when food is foremost on our minds, but it demands a higher level of awareness and gratitude to remain thankful when the meal has been consumed and we are ready to move on to other matters.

The text of Birkat haMazon presents some readers with a challenge, however. The problematic line reads: "I was young and have grown old, and I have not seen a righteous man forsaken with his children begging for bread." To insinuate that only the wicked have to worry about the origin of their next meal is problematic; many righteous people struggle to make ends meet. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, however, offers a reinterpretation of this line, saying that rather than, "I have not seen a righteous man forsaken," we should read, "I have not watched a righteous man forsaken." We cannot be bystanders who allow those less fortunate to fend for themselves. With this reading, the grace comes full circle: just as we began by thanking God for providing us with food, we conclude with an exhortation to act in a Godly way and provide for others.

Parshat Ekev tells us that the manna, the food God provided to the Israelites in the wilderness, was a test (Deut. 8:16). We also know that "man does not live by bread alone" (Deuteronomy 8:3), so perhaps the true test of the manna is this: if we eat our fill, we will be nourished in body, but if we watch the righteous man's children beg for bread, we will be spiritually starved. The same awareness that allows us to thank God for the food we have consumed must lead us to feed the hungry, thereby nourishing both others' bodies and our own souls.

Shabbat Shalom,
Meggie O’Dell
Rabbinic Intern

Vaetchanan 5773

Vaetchanan 5773

This week’s parshah, Vaetchanan, contains one of the most-recognized Jewish prayers: the Shema, Deuteronomy 6:4-9. Hear, O Israel, the LORD is our God, the LORD alone. These are the first words of Torah we teach our children to recite; it is the verse we ask converts to Judaism to recite; it marks the conclusion of the vidui, the final prayers recited by a person on his or her deathbed.

I have known the Shema for so long that I can’t actually recall a time when I didn’t know the prayer, but my feelings about the Shema changed when I became a parent.  As soon as our daughter, Odelia, started having a regular bedtime, we marked that time with kriyat Shema al-ha-mittah, the “Bedtime Shema.”  Consisting of three short songs – the first paragraph of Shema; Jacob’s blessing of Ephraim and Menashe, The angel who has redeemed me from all evil, bless the children; and in them let my name be carried on, and the name of my fathers Abraham and Isaac; and let them grow into a multitude in the midst of the earth (Genesis 48:16); and a short prayer acknowledging the angels who surround and protect each of us as we sleep – this bedtime ritual offered all of us an opportunity to slow down and reflect on the day that had passed.  Although I was not going to sleep right then, our singing together still afforded me a few moments of stillness, no matter how hectic the day had been; and as our family has grown, I have also had the privilege of seeing Odelia teach her younger brother Azriel the bedtime rituals, empowering her to take an active role in our family’s Jewish life.

Perhaps most important of all, the bedtime Shema ritual helps our family make time, at least once each day, in which we give one another our undivided attention – no phones, no side conversations, no chores. And out of all of the wonderful experiences I have had as a parent – and there are many – the one that consistently means the most to me is also the one that happens each and every night. Sometimes, the most important things in life are the ones that are closest at hand.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Abe Friedman

Devarim 5773

Devarim 5773

This week’s parasha, Devarim, is read every year on the Shabbat before the fast of Tisha B’Av and is known as Shabbat Hazon (the Sabbath of the Vision) – a name taken from the vision of Isaiah which constitutes the Haftarah.  Inasmuch as this is portion is about history it is appropriate for this saddest period of the Jewish year.. But history is not a series of random events; history has a purpose. The prayer book teaches, “because of our sins were we thrown off our land.” The reading of this portion becomes a time of soul searching over past sins and future redemption.

Unlike the personal and individual sins which we contemplate on the only other full day fast of the Hebrew calendar, Yom Kippur, on Trisha B’Av, we contemplate the sins of our people as we learn in the parasha:

 “Then you retreated and wept before the Lord, but the Lord did not listen to your voice and He did not hearken to you” (Deuteronomy 1:45)

Tradition teaches that both the first and the second Temple in Jerusalem were destroyed on the ninth of Av. It was a day of destruction the like of which the Jewish people had never known. And that is why on Monday evening many will gather at Anshe Emet Synagogue in order to usher in the fast of Tisha B’Av – the ninth day of the month of Av. (I will not be able to join you as I will still be in Israel and will observe the fast with my family overlooking the ancient walls of Old Jerusalem.)

Because we live in an age of individualized spirituality I fear that the message of Tisha B’Av eludes so many of us. Identifying with the Jewish people and with the tragedies which we have faced and survived as a people are not as compelling for all Jews as they once might have been.  But as someone with whom the notion of Jewish peoplehood still resonates most strongly I am very touched by the following words written by Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson, Dean of the Ziegler Rabbinical School at the American Jewish University in Lost Angeles:

“To observe Tishah b'Av in Jerusalem is to allow the past to engulf the present, to induce a willful amnesia in the conviction that the resultant memory will be more true, more incisive, and more real. To mourn the destruction of ancient Jerusalem is to deny the present its despotic hold on contemporary souls, to affirm that there is much to learn from the past -  about human living, about coping with despair and suffering, about redeeming the human  heart…

“Suffering alone cannot provide purpose to Jewish identity, but one cannot come to terms with  what that identity has meant without grappling with the ancient and resurgent presence of  anti-Semitism. On Tishah B'Av, we mourn that so many people have hated so much. We cry over the consequent suffering of innocents beyond counting.

“But this fast is not simply to record the endlessness of Jew hatred and Jew beatings. This day also marks the end of Jewish sovereignty, of the kind of security and self-confidence that can only emerge when a people controls its own destiny, lives on its own land, determines its future for itself….

“On Tishah B'Av, then, we mourn our lost independence and our weakened self-confidence.  We mourn our dependence on the whims and kindnesses of strangers.”

Many have questioned whether or not the creation of a modern Jewish state means we should cease observing the fasting and mourning rituals of Tisha B’Av.  But Rabbi Artson reminds us that there is also a spiritual side to this day.  He reminds us that in the absence of a rebuilt Temple we need to restore wholeness to our people if not our entire planet by striving to be a holy people.

As the sages teach us, “You are not required to complete the task, yet neither are you free to desist from it."

And in the words of Rabbi Artson, “It is up to us to begin.”

I wish you both Shabbat Shalom and an easy fast from the land of Israel,

Rabbi Matt Futterman

Senior Educator