Shabbat Shalom Friends,
This week we begin the fourth book of the Torah, Sefer Bemidbar (Numbers), which begins when the Israelites are standing "in front of the mountain" (Exodus 19:2). In other words, when we begin this book, the Israelites are still standing at the sight of their revelation from God, and they are about to embark on a journey that will take them longer than they ever anticipated, and we will begin the final book of the Torah with them standing on the other side of the Jordan River, ready to enter the Promised Land.
One of the favorite commentaries on the significance of Mount Sinai as the mountain which God chose as the site of the revelation of the Torah comes from Pesikta Rabbati, which tells the following story:
"A man's pride will humiliate him, but a humble man will obtain honor (Prov.29:23)." A man's pride will humiliate him - as in Mount Tabor and Mount Carmel, that came from the ends of the earth and boasted, saying: We are tall, and the Holy One, blessed be He, will give the Torah on us. A humble man will obtain honor - that is Mount Sinai, humiliating itself and saying: I am low. Hence the Holy One, blessed be He, raised it up by honoring it, giving the Torah on that mountain. So Sinai had the privilege of the Holy One, blessed be He, descending on it and standing there, as it is written, "The Lord came down upon Mount Sinai..."(Pesikta Rabbati, ch. 7, s.v. va-yehi ha-makriv).
In this text, see our rabbis assert that in the revelation at Sinai, a moment endowed with countless meanings, even the choice of the mountain itself was significant. At the same time, it tells us something important about the nature of Sefer Bemidbar, as well.
Up until now, the Israelites are an isolated people, confined to a particular region in Egypt, and entering the desert and receiving a revelation alone in the midst of the wilderness. However, as they embark on the journey that will ultimately lead them to the Promised Land, they have the responsibility of taking God's promise with them, and using it wisely. Therefore, according to this Midrash, the Israelites must demonstrate the same humility that Mount Sinai itself in being chosen by God for this moment of revelation.
The challenge of leading a life of faith is not only the rules and regulations, but the way in which one carries their message. If we do it with a sense of arrogance and otherness, we may believe that we are following the letter of the law, but rather we are perverting it. The challenge for us not only embody God's message through our deeds, but through our attitude. May it happen soon, and speedily, in our days.
Shabbat Shalom
Josh
1. Parents: How do you balance standing up for what you believe in, without seeming holier-than-thou?
2. Children: What is the definition of the word arrogant? Can you think of a time when someone know acted that way? How did it make you feel?
3. Seekers: If this midrash defines spiritual arrogance for us, how would you define spiritual humility?
Friday, May 14, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Torah Bites for Your Table: Parshat Behar-Behukotai
Hi Friends
I hope that everyone is having a wonderful end to their week. This week marks the final parasha in the Book of Leviticus, Behar-Behukotai. One of the most famous concepts to emerge from this parasha is the Sabbatical Year, or Shemittah, where a person will leave their field fallow once every seven years. The commandment states the following:
"And the Lord said to Moses on Mount Sinai. “Speak to the Israelites: When you enter the land which I give you, the land shall keep a Sabbath to the Lord. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its fruits: but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath for the Lord; you shall not sow your field prune your vineyard" (Leviticus 25:1-4).
Historically, we might argue that this commandment was an early form of crop rotation, making sure that fields were not over-harvested to the point where they would no longer grow anything. However, in his analysis of this mitzvah, Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstrucionist Judaism, writes the following about the timeless nature of this mitzvah:
"As a result of the mechanization and over-industrialization of present day life, the human being has come to stand in greater need of the Sabbath than before…The function of the Sabbath is to prohibit man from engaging in work which in any way alters the environment, so that he should not delude himself into the belief that he is complete master of his destiny."
In other words, the timeless purpose is that this mitzvah forces to recognize that the natural goodness of the earth belongs to God, not us. When we treat the earth with callous disregard for the delicate balance of God's creation, we not only demean the earth, we demean God, as well.
In our present-day, we need a Sabbath for the earth, more than ever before. The practice of Shemittah must resonate deeply with each of us, as we think about how to meet the challenge of serving as proper stewards for this planet. May it happen soon, and speedily, in our days.
Shabbat Shalom
Josh
1. Parents: To what extent do you think you are helping your family create a sustainable home? What are areas of life where you could be conscious of what you use and consume?
2. Children: Why do you think God wants the earth to have a rest from being harvested? What is the value of not using up our resources?
3: Seekers: What would a world look like where we maintained proper intervals of rest for the earth? What would this say about spiritual compass if were to allow that to happen?
I hope that everyone is having a wonderful end to their week. This week marks the final parasha in the Book of Leviticus, Behar-Behukotai. One of the most famous concepts to emerge from this parasha is the Sabbatical Year, or Shemittah, where a person will leave their field fallow once every seven years. The commandment states the following:
"And the Lord said to Moses on Mount Sinai. “Speak to the Israelites: When you enter the land which I give you, the land shall keep a Sabbath to the Lord. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its fruits: but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath for the Lord; you shall not sow your field prune your vineyard" (Leviticus 25:1-4).
Historically, we might argue that this commandment was an early form of crop rotation, making sure that fields were not over-harvested to the point where they would no longer grow anything. However, in his analysis of this mitzvah, Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstrucionist Judaism, writes the following about the timeless nature of this mitzvah:
"As a result of the mechanization and over-industrialization of present day life, the human being has come to stand in greater need of the Sabbath than before…The function of the Sabbath is to prohibit man from engaging in work which in any way alters the environment, so that he should not delude himself into the belief that he is complete master of his destiny."
In other words, the timeless purpose is that this mitzvah forces to recognize that the natural goodness of the earth belongs to God, not us. When we treat the earth with callous disregard for the delicate balance of God's creation, we not only demean the earth, we demean God, as well.
In our present-day, we need a Sabbath for the earth, more than ever before. The practice of Shemittah must resonate deeply with each of us, as we think about how to meet the challenge of serving as proper stewards for this planet. May it happen soon, and speedily, in our days.
Shabbat Shalom
Josh
1. Parents: To what extent do you think you are helping your family create a sustainable home? What are areas of life where you could be conscious of what you use and consume?
2. Children: Why do you think God wants the earth to have a rest from being harvested? What is the value of not using up our resources?
3: Seekers: What would a world look like where we maintained proper intervals of rest for the earth? What would this say about spiritual compass if were to allow that to happen?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Torah Bites for Your Table: Parshat Emor
Shavua Tov Friends
My apologies for the late post. Somehow the Dvar Torah got left in my draft folder and did not make it online. This is a copy of an essay I wrote about this week's Torah portion for the weekly newsletter at the Jewish Theological Seminary...
I am oftentimes troubled when we talk about social justice with the assumption that acts of justice only exist in the temporal realm, yet do not enter into the spiritual realm. However, in this week’s parasha of Emor, we encounter a justice-oriented mitzvah that our rabbis see as bound up in the spiritual fabric of our lives, and develop a connect for how acts of justice are ones which the Talmud says are “where heaven and earth touch” (BT Bava Batra 74a).
In chapter 23 of Leviticus, the mitzvah of pe’ah, leaving the corners of one’s filed untouched to be given to the poor, is found amidst a series of commandments about the festivals between Passover and what we now know as Rosh HaShanah. Regarding the mitzvah, the text states the following:
“And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not altogether remove the corners of your field…you shall leave them to the poor and to the stranger” (Leviticus 23:22).
In one of her gilyonot on the parasha, Nehama Leibowitz asks why the above verse occurs in the context of the mitzvot pertaining to festivals, a seeming dichotomy between commandments between humanity and God and commandments between humanity and one another (New Studies in Vayikra, 444). On this question, three perspectives emerge that each attempt to teach us something essential about the way in which acts of justice are connection to a larger spiritual mission for the Jewish people.
First, in a commentary that was most likely based on his sermons to the elite of the Polish Jewry, the Keli Yakar asserts that even though one needs to provide some of their harvest for the counting of the omer, one must still observe the mitzvah of pe’ah during that time period. When explaining his rationale, the Keli Yakar writes the following:
“The connection of this verse with the omer is expressed in the homiletical comment that God surrounded Israel with mitzvot (precepts) in all their activities…We might have supposed that the fulfillment of the omer precept exempts us from other precepts, hence the Torah states: “You shall not altogether remove…You shall leave them to the poor and to the stranger,” i.e., this mitzvah does not absolve us from leket, shikhehah, (forgotten sheaves) and pe’ah” (Keili Yakar on Leviticus 23:22).
In explaining the rationale of this commentary, Leibowitz writes that this commentary “reflects the important fact that the ritual commandments (e..g. the occasional sacrificial requirements) are easier to fulfill than those affecting one’s fellow man” (New Studies in Vayikra, 446-447). In other words, the mitzvot that require us to act justly, to give up something of our ourselves, can be far more difficult than a ritually-orientated mitzvah, and thus the Torah wants to remind us that not only are acts of justice equally obligatory, the performance of them may even reflect a higher degree of effort and intention.
Second, the Sefer Ha-Hinukh explains the rationale for the mitzvot of pe’ah and leket by asserting that each mitzvah is aimed at attaining a type of spiritual cleansing of the Jewish people. The text states:
“God wished for His chosen people to be virtuous and generous. As I have stated before, good deeds influence the soul and render it fit for God’s blessings. Leaving part of the produce of one’s land to the needy no doubt affords its owner satisfaction and bestows bliss upon his soul, God having provided him with plenty, and gratified his spirit. But those who take everything home, and disregard the needy who saw the rising crops and hungered for it, thus reveal their grudging heart…” (Sefer Ha-Hinukh, Mitzvat Asse 213).
In this text, the performance of the mitzvah of pe’ah is not simply a matter of fulfilling a particular obligation, but it is an act in a process of spiritual cleansing through an act of justice. In thinking about the mitzvah’s original context in this week’s parasha, the mitzvah of pe’ah is meant to provide a spiritual framework for our Jewish year in the same manner as our Jewish festivals.
Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, Rashi brings us a fascinating Midrash about what this mitzvah intends to teach. He writes,
“R. Avdimi b. R. Yossef said: Why is this precept placed among the Festivals, with Passover and Shavuot on this side and Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur on the other? To teach us that he who leaves leket, shikhehah and pe’ah to the poor according to the law, is considered as though he built up the Beit Ha-Mikdash and offered up sacrifices in it” (Rashi on Leviticus 23:22).
In commenting on Rashi’s teaching, the Be’er Yitzhak writes that, “The Torah put the obligation of gifts to the poor among sacrifice precepts in order to underline that these offerings do not present gifts to God…the laws of gifts to the poor appear amidst the Festival offerings, reminding us that these offerings are not presents. Heaven is the source of all riches…” (Be’er Yitzchak on Leviticus 23:22). The final perspective on our original mitzvah reminds us that mitzvot concerning societal justice exist not simply for the purpose of giving something to those who have less than us, but to recognize that all our possessions are, in reality, woven into the spiritual fabric of God’s creation. As such, we perform this mitzvah primarily because everything on this earth belongs to God, and a world of justice is one in which each of has the humility to give some of God’s possession to those who lack it.
In the contemporary dialogue in the Jewish community that increasingly places emphasis on issues of social justice, it is easy to rationalize these mitzvot in the context of our communal, philosophical, ethical or universalistic concerns. While I would not doubt any one of these individual rationales, it is essential that any community of Torah remember that these mitzvot are not simply bound up in extra-legal concerns, but rather are woven into the very fabric of God’s spiritual mission for the Jewish people. In short, justice is about who we are, and what our halakhah is meant to represent. May it happen soon, and speedily, in our days. Shabbat Shalom.
My apologies for the late post. Somehow the Dvar Torah got left in my draft folder and did not make it online. This is a copy of an essay I wrote about this week's Torah portion for the weekly newsletter at the Jewish Theological Seminary...
I am oftentimes troubled when we talk about social justice with the assumption that acts of justice only exist in the temporal realm, yet do not enter into the spiritual realm. However, in this week’s parasha of Emor, we encounter a justice-oriented mitzvah that our rabbis see as bound up in the spiritual fabric of our lives, and develop a connect for how acts of justice are ones which the Talmud says are “where heaven and earth touch” (BT Bava Batra 74a).
In chapter 23 of Leviticus, the mitzvah of pe’ah, leaving the corners of one’s filed untouched to be given to the poor, is found amidst a series of commandments about the festivals between Passover and what we now know as Rosh HaShanah. Regarding the mitzvah, the text states the following:
“And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not altogether remove the corners of your field…you shall leave them to the poor and to the stranger” (Leviticus 23:22).
In one of her gilyonot on the parasha, Nehama Leibowitz asks why the above verse occurs in the context of the mitzvot pertaining to festivals, a seeming dichotomy between commandments between humanity and God and commandments between humanity and one another (New Studies in Vayikra, 444). On this question, three perspectives emerge that each attempt to teach us something essential about the way in which acts of justice are connection to a larger spiritual mission for the Jewish people.
First, in a commentary that was most likely based on his sermons to the elite of the Polish Jewry, the Keli Yakar asserts that even though one needs to provide some of their harvest for the counting of the omer, one must still observe the mitzvah of pe’ah during that time period. When explaining his rationale, the Keli Yakar writes the following:
“The connection of this verse with the omer is expressed in the homiletical comment that God surrounded Israel with mitzvot (precepts) in all their activities…We might have supposed that the fulfillment of the omer precept exempts us from other precepts, hence the Torah states: “You shall not altogether remove…You shall leave them to the poor and to the stranger,” i.e., this mitzvah does not absolve us from leket, shikhehah, (forgotten sheaves) and pe’ah” (Keili Yakar on Leviticus 23:22).
In explaining the rationale of this commentary, Leibowitz writes that this commentary “reflects the important fact that the ritual commandments (e..g. the occasional sacrificial requirements) are easier to fulfill than those affecting one’s fellow man” (New Studies in Vayikra, 446-447). In other words, the mitzvot that require us to act justly, to give up something of our ourselves, can be far more difficult than a ritually-orientated mitzvah, and thus the Torah wants to remind us that not only are acts of justice equally obligatory, the performance of them may even reflect a higher degree of effort and intention.
Second, the Sefer Ha-Hinukh explains the rationale for the mitzvot of pe’ah and leket by asserting that each mitzvah is aimed at attaining a type of spiritual cleansing of the Jewish people. The text states:
“God wished for His chosen people to be virtuous and generous. As I have stated before, good deeds influence the soul and render it fit for God’s blessings. Leaving part of the produce of one’s land to the needy no doubt affords its owner satisfaction and bestows bliss upon his soul, God having provided him with plenty, and gratified his spirit. But those who take everything home, and disregard the needy who saw the rising crops and hungered for it, thus reveal their grudging heart…” (Sefer Ha-Hinukh, Mitzvat Asse 213).
In this text, the performance of the mitzvah of pe’ah is not simply a matter of fulfilling a particular obligation, but it is an act in a process of spiritual cleansing through an act of justice. In thinking about the mitzvah’s original context in this week’s parasha, the mitzvah of pe’ah is meant to provide a spiritual framework for our Jewish year in the same manner as our Jewish festivals.
Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, Rashi brings us a fascinating Midrash about what this mitzvah intends to teach. He writes,
“R. Avdimi b. R. Yossef said: Why is this precept placed among the Festivals, with Passover and Shavuot on this side and Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur on the other? To teach us that he who leaves leket, shikhehah and pe’ah to the poor according to the law, is considered as though he built up the Beit Ha-Mikdash and offered up sacrifices in it” (Rashi on Leviticus 23:22).
In commenting on Rashi’s teaching, the Be’er Yitzhak writes that, “The Torah put the obligation of gifts to the poor among sacrifice precepts in order to underline that these offerings do not present gifts to God…the laws of gifts to the poor appear amidst the Festival offerings, reminding us that these offerings are not presents. Heaven is the source of all riches…” (Be’er Yitzchak on Leviticus 23:22). The final perspective on our original mitzvah reminds us that mitzvot concerning societal justice exist not simply for the purpose of giving something to those who have less than us, but to recognize that all our possessions are, in reality, woven into the spiritual fabric of God’s creation. As such, we perform this mitzvah primarily because everything on this earth belongs to God, and a world of justice is one in which each of has the humility to give some of God’s possession to those who lack it.
In the contemporary dialogue in the Jewish community that increasingly places emphasis on issues of social justice, it is easy to rationalize these mitzvot in the context of our communal, philosophical, ethical or universalistic concerns. While I would not doubt any one of these individual rationales, it is essential that any community of Torah remember that these mitzvot are not simply bound up in extra-legal concerns, but rather are woven into the very fabric of God’s spiritual mission for the Jewish people. In short, justice is about who we are, and what our halakhah is meant to represent. May it happen soon, and speedily, in our days. Shabbat Shalom.
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