Shva Merachef

Pinehas 5771: A Break from Leining, Yet a still Torah-Filled Shabbat

2011-07-17T00:14:00.007-04:00

While sparing a long story, this Shabbat ended up being a week off from my regular summer Torah reading in Highland Park, NJ. Yet fate seemed to wish to ensure that I wouldn't be to Torah deprived this week, and so I gave a d'var torah at Kehilat Hadar and taught at Seudah Shlisheet at Shaare Zedek. I hope that you'll enjoy both teachings, and that more importantly, the ideas and texts will challenge you (maybe to challenge me) and help you to face some of the same issues that influenced me as I read this week's parasha.

-At Hadar I spoke about the tension between personal and collective responsibility in our Jewish observance. I recognize that not all Jews share my myth of halakhah, obligation (hiyyuv) and observance, and that it is easy in modern times to feel empowered to chart one's own religious journey without a focus on community. I looked to biblical precedents, especially in Pinehas, of the tension between being responsible for only ones actions or how they influence others, and concluded that we must take our journeys in a communal context, considerate of how they affect others, and hopefully in a way which will healthily challenge those around us to greater heights of meaning and empowerment.

-At Shaare Tzedek, I taught midrashim from the 9-11th century Palestinian collection Bamidbar Rabbah which helped me respond to and reflect upon the some of the events of the past week, including the senseless murder of 8-year old Leiby Kletsky and a fire which engulfed the Krhillath Jeshurun (KJ) Synagogue on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Just as these rabbinic commentaries were almost certainly responding to real events and needs at the time they were written, I hope they will help us to reflect upon happenings in our own day which trouble us and seem to defy explanation.

Shavua Tov and thank you for joining in my journey!

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“Where Do We Go From Here? We Are The Keepers of Our Brothers” –Safam

“כל ישראל ערבים זה לזה- All of Israel is responsible for one another.”[1] We are taught so often as Jews that we have a collective obligation to one another. So much of Judaism is focused on community and the importance of coming together, reaching out and even bringing others in as part of our observance. Yet modern philosophies often stress the value of personal freedom and autonomy, of being responsible for oneself only in relationship to God. How do balance these two tendencies which often claw at us with equal strength?

This might seem like a recent conflict of ideas, but the Torah itself, and especially this week’s parasha of Pinehas present both of these approaches to our responsibility and culpability for the actions of others. The prescriptive potions of the Torah present conflicting commands and promises of whether God holds us responsible for the actions of others:

We read as part of the Aseret Hadibrot, the ten utterances or commandments found in Chapter 20 of Exodus and Chapter 5 of Deuteronomy: פֹּקֵד עֲו‍ֹן אָבֹת עַל-בָּנִים עַל-שִׁלֵּשִׁים וְעַל-רִבֵּעִים לְשֹׂנְאָי, visiting the sins of parents upon children unto the third and fourth generations for those who detest me#[2]; yet later in the book of Deuteronomy, in Parashat Ki Tetze, we are instructed: לֹא-יוּמְתוּ אָבוֹת עַל-בָּנִים, וּבָנִים לֹא-יוּמְתוּ עַל-אָבוֹת: אִישׁ בְּחֶטְאוֹ, יוּמָתוּ.# Parents should not die for the sins of their children, nor children for the sins of their parents; each should die for his or her own sin. These distinctions could be explained homiletically through midrash or critically through the proposal of different authors, but I think that the Torah wishes for us to struggle over collective responsibility vs. personal autonomy.

Perhaps the most famous example of the struggle over taking responsibility for one’s actions in the Torah comes at the beginning of Genesis. God challenges Cain after killing his brother Abel, אֵי הֶבֶל אָחִיךָ, where is your brother Abel?[3] Cain answers, השומר אחי אנכי, Am I my brother’s keeper?[4] While Cain should certainly be responsible for his own actions, his exclamation continues to ask us just how much we should be responsible for the actions of others.

This dynamic is seen in two episodes in our parasha. Slipped into the census which occupies almost half of the parasha is the statement [5]ובני קרח לא מתו, and the children of Korah, who led a rebellion against Moses in the parasha a few weeks ago, did not die. The rabbis offer a number of explanations for this surprising occurrence; the book of Psalms notes that the sons of Korah were singers in the Temple in Jerusalem; the eleventh century French commentator Rashi proposes that the children of Korah repented; yet I think it is most noteworthy that contrary to what we might expect, compared to many other stories in the Torah and Tanakh, even Korah’s immediate family was not held responsible for his actions, and were given the opportunity to repent and change their ways.

Later on in the Parasha, five daughters of a man named Tzelophehad from the tribe of Menashe approach Moshe and asked for an inheritance, since their father had died and they had no brothers. Yet it is telling how the daughters go about approaching Moshe: אָבִינוּ, מֵת בַּמִּדְבָּר, וְהוּא לֹא-הָיָה בְּתוֹךְ הָעֵדָה הַנּוֹעָדִים עַל-יְהוָה, בַּעֲדַת-קֹרַח: כִּי-בְחֶטְאוֹ מֵת, וּבָנִים לֹא-הָיוּ לוֹ.[6] Our father died in the wilderness, and he was not among the assembly who rebelled against God in the assembly of Korah; he died for his own sin and left no sons.

Why did these women to mention their father’s sin and its exact nature? Why should it matter whether Tzelophehad was among Korah’s assembly or died for his own, separate actions? Rashi tries to explain the significance of Tzelophehad dying for his own sin -- he connects the man’s death to an earlier account of a man who was stoned for chopping wood on Shabbat – he died for his own sin only, thus he did not lead others astray, and made decisions which did not negatively impact the community[7].

Interestingly, Moses’s answer to the daughters of Tzelophehad does not even acknowledge their concern about their father’s sin; instead, he unequivocally grants them an inheritance. They are not punished for their father’s actions, but awarded their rightful inheritance on their own merit. But even if these women, considered particularly righteous for their wish to inherit in the land of Israel, were judged on their own merit, the mention of their father’s actions is a reminder that they, and we do, not live in a bubble, but our actions towards God and others, especially in the realm of mitzvot, are so often tied to those around us.

I believe that these struggles within the laws and narratives of the Torah text regarding personal and collective responsibility have much to say about our Judaism and life today. We have many different conceptions of halakhah, obligation, observance and how to practice. It is often easy to see ourselves on individual journeys towards how to express our relationships with God and our Jewish observance, and as personally responsible for only our own actions. But even when we feel empowered, we must remember that we have an obligation to our communities and other Jews beyond them; to share our passion and knowledge, to nurture, to educate and to create caring communities, so that those around us have the tools to take ownership of their actions like the sons of Korah and Daughters of Tzelophehad.

[1] Sifra Behukkotai 7:5

[2] Exodus 20:5/Deuteronomy 5:9

[3] Genesis 4:7

[4] Genesis 4:8

[5] Numbers 26:11

[6] Numbers 27:3

[7] Rashi ad. loc.

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Seudah Shlisheet @Shaare Zedek

1) Midrash Bemidbar Rabbah 21:2: A True Leader Must Understand The Uniqueness of Each Human Life

“ Moshe said: May God, master of the spirits of all creatures, appoint a person (leader) over the community. Who shall go out before them and return before them, who will send them out and bring them back, so that the community of God shall not be like sheep without a shepherd (Numbers 27:16-17).”

A halakhah is taught: if one sees a large population of people, s/he says: Blessed are you Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, discerner of secrets. – For just as their faces are not the same, so their opinions and needs are not the same, rather each has a unique personality and perspective of his or her own. And thus it is written (Job 28:25), “to give a weight to the wind,” (homiletically, spirit), to the spirit of each and every person – you should know that it is thus that Moshe was requesting at the time of his death.

Moshe said before God: Master of the Universe! The thoughts of each and every person are clearly known before You , and the thoughts of each of Your children are not the same as another; please, appoint a leader for the, who is capable of being patient with each person according to his or her own needs, as it it is written, “May God, master of the spirits of all creatures, appoint a person (leader),” – it does not say master of the spirit, but rather of the spirits. Thus it is written: (Isaiah 45:11), “Ask Me about the things to come regarding my children, and command Me about the work of my hands.”

To what metaphor can this be compared?

To a king who married a woman and had a friend; Each time the king got angry at his wife, the friend would help them to reconcile. When the friend came close to his death, he requested from the king: please, turn your thoughts to your wife. The king turned to the friend and said: If you are commanding me regarding my wife, command my wife to be careful about my honor!

Thus conceivably, it is as if God said to Moshe: Since you command me to ‘appoint them a leader,’ command them that they should be meticulous regarding My honor.

Therefore it is written, “Command the children of Israel and say to them regarding my daily meal offerings” (Numbers 28:2).

וידבר משה אל ה' יפקוד ה' וגו'
הלכה: אם ראה הרבה אוכלוסין של בני אדם, אומר: בא"י אלהינו מלך העולם חכם הרזים, כשם שאין פרצופותיהן דומין זה לזה, כך אין דעתן שוין זה לזה, אלא כל אחד ואחד יש לו דעה בפני עצמו.
וכן הוא אומר (איוב כח): לעשות לרוח משקל, לרוחות של כל בריה ובריה, תדע לך שהוא כן, שכן משה מבקש מן הקב"ה בשעת מיתה.

אמר לפניו: ריבונו של עולם! גלוי וידוע לפניך דעתן של כל אחד ואחד, ואין דעתן של בניך דומין זה לזה, וכשאני מסתלק מהן, בבקשה ממך מנה עליהם מנהיג, שיהא סובלם לאחד ואחד לפי דעתו, שנאמר: יפקד ה', הרוח אינו אומר, אלאהרוחות זה שאמר הכתוב: (ישעיה מה): האותיות שאלוני על בני ועל פועל ידי תצוני.

משל למה הדבר דומה?
למלך, שנשא אשה והיה לו שושבין, בכל זמן שהמלך כועס על אשתו, השושבין מפייס ומתרצה המלך לאשתו. בא השושבין למות, התחיל מבקש מן המלך, בבקשה ממך, תן דעתך על אשתך! אמר לו המלך: אם אתה מצוני על אשתי, צוה את אשתי עלי, שתהא זהירה בכבודי!
כביכול, כך אמר לו הקדוש ברוך הוא: על שאתה מצווני עליהם: יפקד ה', צוה אותם שיהיו זריזין בכבודי!
מה כתיב?
(במדבר כח) צו את בני ישראל את קרבני לחמי תחלה הסדיר להן הקורבנות:

2) Midrash Bemidbar Rabbah 21:25: Regular and Special Sacred Time As A Space for Community and Healing

There is a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord. Life goes wrong when the control of space, the acquisition of things of space, becomes our sole concern.

-Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

“On the Eighth Day it shall be an Assembly for you (Num 29:35). What does “for you indicate?”

God said to them: The Festivals should be pleasant for you.

A certain idol worshipper came to Rabbi Akiba, and said to him: Why do you observe these Festivals? Did the Holy one Blessed be God not say to you, “I detest your New Moons and Festivals (Isaiah 1:14).

Rabbi Akiva answered: If God had said, I detest My New Moons and Festivals, then I would agree with you, but the text stated “your New Moons and Festivals’ because of the festivals proclaimed by Jeroboam, as it is written “Jeroboam made a festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month like the festival that was celebrated in Judah. He offered sacrifices on the altar which he had fashioned in Beit El in the month which he had chosen of his own volition, and he went up to offer incense on the altar (I Kings 12:32-33).”

But the appointed times and new months listed in our parasha will never be cancelled. Why is this the case? Because they belong to God, as it is written (Leviticus 23:2), “These are the Festivals of God,” and (ibid. 23:44) Moses communicated God’s Festivals to the people of Israel.”

Thus, the Festivals will not be cancelled in the time to come, as it is written, (Psalms 111:8) “They are upheld now and forever (when) practiced with truth and uprightness.”

תהיה לכם
מהו תהיה לכם?
אמר להם: המועדים נאים לכם.
שאל עובד כוכבים אחד את ר"ע, אמר ליה:
למה אתם עושים מועדות לא כך אמר לכם הקדוש ברוך הוא (ישעיה א): חדשיכם ומועדיכם שנאה נפשי?
אמר לו ר"ע: אילו אמר חדשי ומועדי שנאה נפשי, היית אומר, לא אמר אלא חדשיכם ומועדיכם, בשביל אותן מועדות שעשה ירבעם, שנאמר (מ"א יב): ויעש ירבעם חג בחדש הח' בט"ו יום לחדש כחג אשר ביהודה (שם) ויעל על המזבח אשר עשה בבית אל בחדש אשר בדא מלבו ויעש חג לבני ישראל ויעל על המזבח להקטיר, אבל המועדות האלו, אינן בטלים לעולם, ולא החדשים.
למה?
שהן להקדוש ברוך הוא, שנאמר (ויקרא כג): אלה מועדי ה'.
וכן (שם) אלה הם מועדי.
וכן (שם) וידבר משה את מועדי ה'.
ולכך, אין עתידים ליבטל, ועליהם נאמר (תהלים קיא): סמוכים לעד לעולם עשויים באמת וישר.

The Spirtuality of A Mapik Hei הרוחניות של 'מפיק הא'

2011-06-05T17:49:00.002-04:00

A dot inside of a Hei is not called a דגש but rather a מפיק, literally “one which brings out,” and is found at the end of a word (though a similar undotted ה can occur in the midst of words such as התמהמהנו). This reflects the proper pronunciation of a מפיק, the expulsion of of a breath from one’s mouth without an accompanying vowel or consonant. On the most basic, fundamental level, the proper annunciation of a מפיק is essential to ensure that the correct meaning of a word is articulated, and not confused with a similar word lacking a מפיק.
Yet when pronounced in a ritual context, whether reciting a biblical or liturgical text, the proper articulation of the מפיק can lead to unparalleled depths of meaning and feeling. Not only do we attempt to use all of our intellect and intention when reciting sacred words, but the proper expression of the מפיק allows us to use the simplest and most basic, natural breath to praise God. This is true of any pronunciation of the מפיק in a sacred context, but is especially appropriate since the מפיק appears quite commonly in names of God, such as י-ה. The feeling which can be achieved by expressing a מפיק (without even going beyond these standard, established rules of Hebrew grammar) can be seen in the words of Psalms 150:6 which itself contains 2 מפיקים. The psalmist exclaims, “כֹּל הַנְּשָׁמָה, תְּהַלֵּל יָהּ הַלְלוּ-יָהּ” Let the entire soul praise You, Halleluyah (may God be praised). The word נשמה, translated as soul, is etymologically related to the word נשימה, meaning breath, so it thus flows that we should attempt to express our feelings to God with our entire breath, through that most basic expulsion of breath which is the מפיק.

God is Kadosh - How do we become Kadosh? K'doshim 5771

2011-05-01T21:55:00.001-04:00

Columbia/Barnard Hillel Seudah Shlisheet – K’doshim 5771

This week’s parasha of Kedoshim is filled with details of a variety of mitzvot – 51, in fact, according to the count of the Sefer Hahinukh, a medieval Spanish work which enumerates all of the commandments according to the parasha. The verses seem to jump from topic to topic almost at random at a first glance - from bein adam l’haveiro (those between humans and their fellows) and bein adam lamakom (between us and God), and from positive and negative, addressing quite a gamut of topics. This miscellany makes it extremely interesting and important to turn to and examine the opening ‘topic sentence’ which begins Kedoshim.

וַיְדַבֵּר ה' אֶל-מֹשֶׁה לֵּאמֹר. ב דַּבֵּר אֶל-כָּל-עֲדַת בְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם--קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ: כִּי קָדוֹשׁ, אֲנִי ה' אֱ-לֹהֵיכֶם.

God spoke to Moses saying: Speak to the entire community of the children of Israel and say to them – you shall be k’doshim for I am Kadosh. I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 19:1-2)

The word Kadosh is usually translated as holy, but we should step back and consider what it means in this context. Is it a general statement, or is it connected directly to the commandments which follow? Is one Kadosh simply because he or she performs (or does not do) certain actions, or is it a more general mindset. I would like to examine a few medieval and modern commentators to explore just how deep this simple and essential phrase can be.

The eleventh century French commentator Rashi, basing himself on the fifth century Palestinian midrash Vayikra Rabbah, states quite clearly קדושים תהיו- פרושים תהיו – “You shall be holy-- you shall be separate,” and explains that this means to be separate from the sins and impurities outlined in the Torah. For Rashi, being Kadosh is directly linked to the performance and fulfillment of mitzvot, and seems to be an objective appellation. Interestingly, Rashi’s comment does not seem to directly address the meaning of God being Kadosh.

Ramban, thirteenth century commentator and mystic from Spain and the Land of Israel, begins by citing Rashi’s statement of kadosh being separate, but takes it further. He writes that just as God is distinct and separate, so too must we be deliberate in our actions and be separate. He takes issue with Rashi’s evaluation of one’s kadosh status – Ramban cleverly notes that one can keep kosher and be a glutton; a man could observe the letter of the Torah and be irresponsible in taking many wives – those who are clever will find a way to be נבל ברשות התורה, naughty within the guidelines of the Torah. Thus, the command to be kadosh and even the more specific mitzvoth are only outlines – one must continually strive and struggle to find the proper path and person has to do in his or her own way.

In his usual deep and poetic manner, twentieth century European and American Jewish thinker activist and JTS professor Abraham Joshua Heschel gave his own definition of holiness in an essay entitled “An Analysis of Piety.” He seems to begin where Ramban picks up, and beautifully explains how being kadosh is a mindset attainable by all who strive to live a Godly life, independent of their background or intellectual ability. Without citing our parasha directly, heschel engages directly with the question posed by our parasha – how can one become holy in the same way as God?

The pious man is possessed by his awareness of the presence and nearness of God. Everywhere and at all times he lives as in His sight, whether he remains always heedful of His proximity or not. He feels embraced by God’s mercy as by a vast encircling space. Awareness of God is as close to him as the throbbing of his own heart, often deep and calm, but at times overwhelming, intoxicating, setting the soul afire. The momentous reality of God stands there as peace, power, and endless tranquility, as an inexhaustible source of help, as boundless compassion, as an open gate awaiting prayer. It sometimes happens that the life of a pious man becomes so involved in God that his heart overflows as though it were a cup in the hand of God. This presence of God is not like the proximity of a mountain or the vicinity of an ocean, the view of which one may relinquish by closing the eyes or removing from the place. Rather is this convergence with God unavoidable, inescapable; like air in space it is always being breathed in, even though one is not at all times aware of continuous respiration.

To dwell upon those things that are stepping-stones on the path to the holy, to be preoccupied with the great and wondrous vision of His presence, does not necessarily mean an avoidance of the common ways of life, or involve losing sight of worldly beauty or profane values. Piety’s love of the Creator does not exclude love of the creation, but it does involve a specific approach to all values. Between man and world stands God. He is before all things, and all values are looked at through Him. [1]

As I prepare to graduate – but maybe not quite fully ‘separate myself’ from this community, I hope we can all consider how we will find our own paths towards being k’doshim as both individual and a community. How do we relate to others, friends, visitors, newcomers and strangers? How do we balance between different obligations? The words and ideas of Torah are wonderful beginnings and guidelines, but we should also consider the views of Ramban and Heschel, that these are not only ends to themselves but means to greater exploration and growth as Jews, as humans, and as God’s creations.

The word k’doshim is notably in the plural, and is a reminder that the journey towards greater awareness and holiness may be a personal one at times, but is never solitary. I would like to thank each of you as individuals and a community for being such a part of my life for the past four years. I hope that we continue to strive for greater heights of respect and holiness in the years to come.

Shabbat Shalom and Todah Rabbah.

[1]Heschel, Abraham Joshua. Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1996. p. 310

Shabbat HaHodesh 5771: Let the hungry come and eat, and not be displaced or dispossessed לְמַעַן אֲשֶׁר לֹא-יָפֻצוּ עַמִּי, אִישׁ מֵאֲחֻזָּתוֹ.

2011-03-30T11:54:00.009-04:00

This week's parashah of Tazria, which discusses the laws of leprosy, is often a time to speak of the dangers of לשון הרע, (lit. evil speech), gossip and slander, and speaking inappropriately about others in front of them and behind their backs. The connection is made by the rabbis through a word play which transforms the word metzora, a leper, to motzi shem ra, one who defames his or her fellow. This is surely an important area in which I and many others have much work to do.
However, I was moved by ענינא דיומא, unfortunate current events in the news, to write about the message of feeding those who are hungry. While it may not be explicit,I see this idea as present between the lines of the special maftir and Haftarah of this Shabbat Hahodesh, the last of four special Shabbatot that lead up to זמן חרותינו the time of our liberation. In the Torah reading for Shabbat Hahodesh, taken from Exodus 12:1-20, God commands Moses and Aaron to instruct the Israelites in the details of the Korban Pesah, the offering which is is to be eaten on the eve of the exodus from Egypt, along with the laws of the first Passover Celebration. Among the details of these instructions are that families should join together if they are too few in number to eat the meat of an entire lamb (v. 4), and that no meat shall be left over until morning (v. 10). In its plain or original meaning, this commandment was probably meant to demonstrate the sacred character of this meat, that it could not be used as leftovers like food from any other meal.

Yet in a more creative reading of the text, these details can also teach the values of being conscious about the food we consume. Eating can be a sacred act, especially if we share it with others, and if we think about what happens to our food. While we no longer offer sacrifices, this does not mean that we should be considerate about what we consume, and ensure that we do not waste, especially when there are so many, even within our own cities who go hungry every day. At the very least, we should think about how lucky we are when we eat delicious meals, whether home-cooked or at a restaurant or cafeteria.

I believe that this message of social responsibility is also hidden within the lines of the special haftarah for Shabbat Hahodesh. Taken from Ezekiel 45:16-46:18, this prophecy is mostly concerned with laying out the guidelines for how sacrifices, including daily offerings, those designate for Shabbat and Festivals, and the Paschal lamb, would be prepared and offered in a future age of redemption. After laying out how the Temple would function, the vision turns to the Nasi, or prince who will lead the people of Israel in this future time. The Nasi is given significant powers, including being able to bequeath possessions to his descendants. However, in the verse which concludes the Haftarah, 46:18, the Nasi is warned against cheating the people out of their possessions:

וְלֹא-יִקַּח הַנָּשִׂיא מִנַּחֲלַת הָעָם, לְהוֹנֹתָם מֵאֲחֻזָּתָם--מֵאֲחֻזָּתוֹ, יַנְחִל אֶת-בָּנָיו: לְמַעַן אֲשֶׁר לֹא-יָפֻצוּ עַמִּי, אִישׁ מֵאֲחֻזָּתוֹ.
The Nasi may not take from the holdings of the people to cheat them out of what is rightfully theirs in order to give it to his children -- so that My people shall not be scattered from their inheritance.

While I must note that our situation is not exactly the same as in this prophetic vision, there is still a lesson to be learned for leaders and citizens alike from this warning. Without necessarily advocating socialism, we must consider what we are blessed to have and the many surrounding us who lack basic necessities. Perhaps this verse is trying to remind us of the basic right of humans to have food clothing and shelter, which both individuals and legislators can attempt to ensure in a democratic society.

I was inspired to write this message as I perused the New York Times this morning while eating a delicious Meatball Sub and onion rings at JTS meat day. An editorial written by food columnist Mark Bittman with the title "Why We're Fasting" caught my eye. As an observant Jew who fasts six times a year to mark different religious occasions, I was intrigued why someone would be fasting now. Bittman explains that he and many others have been voluntarily abstaining from food since Monday to call attention to Congressional legislation that would cut back food benefits from millions both within the United States and around the world (who are supported through foreign aid). I was taken aback as I enjoyed a delicious fleichig lunch and my neighbors could conceivably be in jeopardy of starving if this legislation were to pass. Additionally, I spent last Thursday Night participating in a 'Midnight Run' along with fellow JTS students, as we loaded up vans with food, hot drinks, blankets, toiletries and clothing and drove around the chilly city streets distributing them to dozens of people who could have starved or frozen without these essential supplies. It was quite eye-opening to internalize first hand that just blocks away from my warm dorm room with its well-stocked kitchen, people did not know from where their next meal or shower would come.

As we mark Shabbat Hahodesh and the approach of Pesah when we mark our freedom and liberation, I hope you will join me in giving thanks for the delicious food we enjoy daily (and especially on Pesah), ensure that as little food as possible goes to waste, and work within our means to make hunger disappear for those in our cities, our country and around the world.

If you are so moved, consider donating to MAZON: A Jewish Response to Hunger, which supports respected food relief organizations in communities across the United States and Canada.

Shabbat Shalom and בתאוון B'teavon (bon appetit)!

Students of Torah [can] bring peace to the world! תלמידי חכמים מרבים שלום בעולם

2011-03-21T22:44:00.004-04:00

-Babylonian Talmud B'rakhot 64a

Just over a week ago, a terrible tragedy occurred when most of the members of the Fogel family, residents of the Itamar settlement in the West Bank, were murdered in their beds late on erev Shabbat. There are many different ways to respond to such events, through theology, theodicy, politics, contemplation, action or an combination of the above. I feel personally compelled to reject the first few options. Although I believe in a present God who can act in the world, I would be very troubled by any attempt to connect these murders to God or human sin. Similarly, I am turned off by those who would use this tragedy as an opportunity to criticize Israel's settlement policy from the right or left, or God forbid, spew hatred against Muslims or Arabs. Rather, a belief in free will, even if possibly coupled with some form of Divine oversight, leads me towards the direction of resolving to work actively towards a brighter future.

I strongly maintain that Jewish tradition, through our sacred texts and the writings of generations of scholars and leaders urges us to respond to tragedy, strife and conflict through the broad concept of tikkun olam, fixing or repairing the world. In the Aleinu prayer, which appears thrice daily in the liturgy, we express the hope לתקן עולם במלכות שדי, to repair the world in the Kingdom of Heaven, which I believe means that we resolve to partner with God to make the world closer to an ideal state of harmony. There are many acts that could be done in this vein to respond positively to the murder of the Fogels, whether giving assistance to their family and community in Itamar, working with other bereaved children and families who have experienced similar losses, or working towards better understanding between different ethnicities or or religions.

My personal contribution was to participate in a siyyum mishnayot, a custom through which individuals join together to collectively learn all 63 tractates of the mishnah in memory of the deceased. In this case, due to the wide awareness of the death of the Fogels, the particular facebook group to which I was invited succeeded in completing the Mishnah three times over. The study of Mishnah is traditionally believed to bring comfort to the souls of the deceased, especially since the letters of משנה when rearranged spell נשמה, meaning soul. But returning to the opening quote which asserts that studying Torah can lead to greater peace, I believe that engaging in the study of Mishnah as a response to death can allow us to internalize the values and lessons within and behind the text. Ultimately, our learning should be applied to to our lives, and lead us to resolve to work even harder to championing justice, kindness, care and civility in the world.

I chose to study massekhet (tractate) Kinim, literally nests, which is the final tractate in Seder Kodashim (Order of Holy Things), the fifth of the six orders of Mishnah. Kinim discusses the laws of the bird offerings given on a variety of occasions when sacrifices were practiced in the mishkan (Tabernacle) and Beit Hamikdash (First and Second Temples). Birds, either pigeons or turtle-doves, were given on a variety of required and voluntary occasions, generally by those who could not afford livestock offerings but had greater means than those who fulfilled their obligations with grain offerings. These offerings were required to be brought in the cases of a woman after childbirth, men or women who had experienced emissions and a Nazirite who had become ritually impure, among others. Birt offerings were always offered in pairs, hence, the term nest. For obligatory nests, one bird was offered as an olah and burned entirely on the altar, while the other was offered as a hata'at, whose blood was dashed on the top of the altar, and the meat of which was eaten by the priests.

The majority of the laws in the three short, yet complex and math-heavy chapters of Kinim deal with the requirements that bird offerings always be given in a pair of the same species, properly designated as olah or hata'at, and assigned to the proper individual. The mishnayot discuss scenarios such as different birds being mixed up or even flying between different nests. For a self-identifying 'humanities person,' the examples in which birds get mixed up between as many as seven different nests, and the rabbis lay out how many must be disqualified in case they were already designated as the improper category of offering. I believe that a fundamental life lesson lies below the intricate details of Kinim, that of proper intentions and evaluating our actions. The emphasis in these laws on placing adequate thought into choosing, setting aside and offering a specific sacrifice can be aplied to our lives in the twenty-first century. Like our ancestors did when they offered bird sacrifices, we should carefully consider and be deliberate in our decisions and actions. We should think before we act, and when appropriate attempt to fulfill sacred charges, better ourselves and assist others through our deeds.

It is common for tractates and especially orders of the Mishnah to conclude with short, inspirational homilies, and this is the case as the discussion of the Temple service and sacrifices which occupied Seder Kodashim come to a close. The second half of Kinim 3:5 contains two distinct messages:

אמר רבי יהושוע, זה הוא שאמרו, כשהוא חי, קולו אחד; וכשהוא מת, קולו שבעה. כיצד קולו שבעה: שתי קרניו, שתי חצוצרות; שני שוקיו, שני חלילין; עורו לתוף, ומעיו לנבלים, ובני מעיו לכינורות. ויש אומרין, אף צמרו לתכלת.
Rabbi Joshua said: When [an animal] is alive it has one voice, but after its death it has seven voices. How is this so? It's two horns become two shofarot, its two shin-bones become two flutes, its skin is stretched out to cover a drum, and different sinews become strings for harps and lyres. Some say , even its wool can be used for the blue-color[ed robe of the High Priest].

I can understand if this teaching might be off-putting to some, especially vegetarians. The message which could be applied from Rabbi Joshua's words, that the animal was more useful in death than in life, is not necessarily one we would like to hear about other living creatures, even for omnivores. But as in many rabbinic teachings, there are also deeper lessons that can be derived from this idea beyond how to maximize the use of slaughtered animals for holy purposes. We should not waste opportunities of any type, whether material or spiritual. Something that looks like waste or leftovers can become the centerpiece of something new and special. We should think creatively, like Rabbi Joshua, and muster all available resources in thinking creatively and outside the box and working together towards positive goals, whether person or communal.

רבי שמעון בן עקשיה אומר, זקני עם הארץ--כל זמן שהן מזקינין--דעתן מיטרפת עליהן, שנאמר "מסיר שפה, לנאמנים; וטעם זקנים, ייקח" (איוב יב,כ); אבל זקני תורה אינן כן--אלא כל זמן שהן מזקינין--דעתן מתיישבת עליהן, שנאמר "בישישים חכמה; ואורך ימים, תבונה" (איוב יב,יב).

Rabbi Shimon Ben Akashya said: As the elders of the nations of the earth age, their minds become confused and rusty, as it is written, "He will take away the speech of their faithful, and will remove the discernment of their elders." (Job 12:20). But this is not the case for the elders who study Torah; Rather their minds become clearer as they age, as it it is written, "In the aged is found wisdom, and in length of days, discernment."

As is often the case, the most literal and contextual reading of this teaching presents a relatively unflattering and demeaning portrayal of non-Jews, one that is understandable in light of the often unkind relations between Jews and their non-Jewish rulers in the rabbinic era. But this text can also be read in a very positive way when focused on the mission assigned to the broad category of Torah scholars. The more we learn, the wiser we get. And since the path of Torah is so varied and multivalent, there is no single threshold to which one must hold themselves as they walk through it. But we should be cautious to apply the lessons of Torah with care and respect, and an eye towards personal and communal growth, so our minds become clearer as we increase our learning and apply the Torah of our teachers blessed with the wisdom which comes with length of days.

Then, we can be תלמידי חכמים, students of the sages who increase peace in the world, if we apply the lessons of Torah and our tradition with intention and lovingkindness. And through our learning and the positive action which arises from it, may the memories of Udi, Ruth, Elad, Yoav and Hadas Fogel be for a blessing.

Vayikra 5771: Telling the Story, Recounting Our Lives, Connecting to God

2011-03-12T19:57:00.003-05:00

D’var Torah for Parashat Vayikra – Congregation Ramath Orah, New York, NY

March 11, 2011/5 Adar II 5771

This Shabbat, we begin reading Sefer Vayikra with its focus on laws of purity and holiness. Many, such as our the contents of our entire Parsha are concerned with the sacrifices offered in the mishkan and later Beit Hamikdash, This may seem a strange time to talk about the topic of stories, yet it is perhaps more appropriate than ever to discuss storytelling in the context of Vayikra. This week’s haftarah, taken from Isaiah 43 begins עַם-זוּ יָצַרְתִּי לִי, תְּהִלָּתִי יְסַפֵּרוּ. – The people which I formed that they may tell of my praise[1]. The prophet comforts the people by telling them that they have a unique mission in the world. God has chosen them to tell His praises publicly. Just a few verses later, the words of the Haftarah demonstrate how speaking about God can enhance and strengthen our relationship with Him and even better ourselves: הַזְכִּירֵנִי, נִשָּׁפְטָה יָחַד; סַפֵּר אַתָּה, לְמַעַן תִּצְדָּק. Recall Me, we shall act justly together – tell the story so you shall be justified[2]. Even the act of telling God’s praises can be a catalyst towards beginning a relationship with God, and through that, become better individuals.

The fulfillment of Isaiah’s mandate has taken many forms over the years as the Jewish people connected to God through sacrifice, prayer, poetry, study of halakhah and eventually, research into the Jewish past in order to better understand the present and future of the Jewish people. One such manifestation of telling God’s praise through the study of Judaism is the Wissenschaft Des Judentums or Science of Judaism movement. Wissenschaft began in the nineteenth century in Germany, as scholars began to critically study different aspects of Judaism including Tanakh, Talmud, History and Literature, in order to better understand the Jewish past and the mission of the Jewish people for the present and future. As historian Jonathan Sarna said, “We’re all heirs to the legacy of Wissenchaft.”[3] The contributions of Wissenschaft spurred much of the growth in Jewish studies today in both North America and Israel. Yet many of the scholars and their work in telling the stories of the Jewish people in Germany and Eastern Europe were sadly lost or displaced in the tragedy of the Shoah.

Wissenschaft became particularly relevant this week as a New York Times article on Wednesday joyously proclaimed that approximately 1500 volumes of German-Jewish scholarship which went missing from the University of Frankfurt library during the Holocaust were found within the Leo Baeck Institute in Manhattan. This discovery immediately brought to mind the words and message of our haftarah. While these volumes may not be readily accessible to the masses, I hope and pray that their rediscovery will help scholars to better study and articulate the Jewish past and thus God’s people may articulate His praises.

Returning to our parsha, I believe when we dig beneath the details of how the sacrifices were offered, we can come to appreciate how they represented a comprehensive system of acknowledging different moments in life by giving of ourselves to God. Joyous celebrations and occasions for thanksgiving, along with time when people made mistakes and committed sins, whether bein adam lamakom, between humans and God, or bein adam l’haveiro, between one and his or her fellow. Some of these sacrifices, like the olah, a voluntary animal offering, or minhah, a grain offering which begin Parashat Vayikra, were given out of the donor’s free will in order to mark a certain milestone or express certain feelings towards God. The hata’at and asham offerings, also found in our parasha, were given to atone for accidental and premeditated sins by individuals, leaders or the entire community. The giving of these sacrifices came together to mark pivotal moments in the lives of our ancestors and thus helped tell the stories of their lives. If we can go beyond (but not fail to appreciate) the intricate, exact and detailed manner in which sacrifices were given, we can understand the dedication exhibited by those who offered sacrifices, materially expressing their prayers, hopes and regrets, and dreams to God. In essence they were fulfilling the prophet’s dictums of תְּהִלָּתִי יְסַפֵּרוּ and הֵזְכִּירֵנִי, נִשָּׁפְטָה יָחַד; by actively acknowledging God’s role in their lives and joining together, solidifying that relationship and hopefully acting in a manner befitting being both בצלם אלקים, created in God’s image, and עם זו, ‘this’ people which God has chosen. May we especially have this charge in mind as we attempt to do God’s work in helping our fellow humans and responding to the tragic earthquake and Tsunami in Japan and the Pacific.

Although we no longer physically offer sacrifices, we can nevertheless aspire to put the same kavannah, intention and passion into our fulfillment of תְּהִלָּתִי יְסַפֵּרוּ, sharing the story of God’s praises, which can be done in so many ways whether through prayer, study and proud observance, and the dedicated research of Wissenschaft, some newly re-discovered, in probing the depths of our past and tradition to enlighten the future. And by doing our part in contributing adding to the story of God and the Jewish people, may we merit the promise which concludes our Haftarah:

מָחִיתִי כָעָב פְּשָׁעֶיךָ, וְכֶעָנָן חַטֹּאותֶיךָ; שׁוּבָה אֵלַי, כִּי גְאַלְתִּיךָ.

כג רָנּוּ שָׁמַיִם כִּי-עָשָׂה ה', הָרִיעוּ תַּחְתִּיּוֹת אָרֶץ, פִּצְחוּ הָרִים רִנָּה, יַעַר וְכָל-עֵץ בּוֹ: כִּי-גָאַל ה' יַעֲקֹב, וּבְיִשְׂרָאֵל יִתְפָּאָר.

I have erased your sin like a mist dissipates and like a cloud your iniquities, return to Me for I have redeemed you. Let the skies sing out for God has made them, the depths of the earth shall shout, the mountains will cry in joy, along with every tree in the forest – For God has redeemed Jacob, and through Israel He will be glorified.[4]

[1] Isaiah 43:21

[2] Isaiah 43:26

[3] http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/08/nyregion/08books.html?_r=1&emc=eta1

[4] Isaiah 44:22-23

כל זה יבוא מחר אם לא היום ואם עוד לא מחר אז מחרתיים - All this will come tomorrow if not today, and if not tomorrow, then the next day!

2011-03-10T13:35:00.003-05:00

-Naomi Shemer

Today we stand at a crossroads for the future of Conservative Judaism as the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (USCJ) released a draft of a strategic plan* to re-envision their organization. Some of the ideas and direction of the draft led many of us to question the lack of emphasis and cuts directed towards on what I believe are the most critical institutions of the Conservative Movement, namely college campus programming and the Conservative Yeshiva and Fuchsberg Center for conservative Judaism in the heart of Jerusalem. I and others were moved to respond a present our vision for the future, first by commenting on a blog (mine is the 6th down). Later, committed Conservative Jewish leaders on campus, including some of my closest friends, founded the Mahar Coalition in order to give a voice to students to ensure the continuity of Conservative programming on college campuses and a place for our generation in the conversation.

"They may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one..."- 'Imagine,' The Beatles

Rabbi Menachem Creditor invited us to share our visions in a special ShefaJournal. I hope that you will read my article on p. 25 and, those of the many other committed writers with which I am proud to share the journal. (Please note that the view in my article are my own and not necessarily those of the Mahar Coalition).

*The original draft of the USCJ plan, released on February 3, can be read here
The revised version released on March 10, 2011 can be read here. The changes made in section 4 are particularly noteworthy, as is the inclusion of Toronto in section 4.1 after its absence in the first draft.

Giving With Passion, Creating Community

2011-03-06T07:35:00.000-05:00

D’var Torah Delivered at the Columbia/Barnard Hillel, Yavneh Shabbat Services

March 4, 2011

28 Adar I 5771

מַיִם רַבִּים לֹא יוּכְלוּ לְכַבּוֹת אֶת הָאַהֲבָה וּנְהָרוֹת לֹא יִשְׁטְפוּהָ (שיר השירים 8:6)

Great waters cannot put out love, or passion, and rivers cannot wash it away

When I came across this verse, I immediately thought of my time over nearly the past four years as an active member of the Columbia and Barnard Jewish community. When taken as a metaphorically, I feel that this verse truly reflects the experience of being a committed Jew on campus. Each of us is inundated by great waters - seemingly endless amounts of classes, papers and extracurricular along with other temptations, both more and less beneficial. Yet we have all in our own way held onto our great love and passion for Judaism –whether running to and from minyan[1] in between classes, attending or giving shiurim[2] or any number of ways that we contribute to our proudly peer-run community.

Coming into Hillel and Yavneh, I was inspired by some extremely, overly passionate leaders who seemed to devote every moment of their time to planning events, chesed[3] and minyan times. A certain one of them managed to run the entire Hillel while terrorizing chemistry students. I was inspired by those devoted leaders who gave so freely of their time, and always have wished to fulfill the high standards which they had set on how to give and lead.

R’ Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger[4], better known as the Sefat Emet (or the sfas emes) used the above verse as a jumping off point for one of his messages, which seems to speak directly to us here at Columbia and Barnard, as well as to three occasions which we mark this Shabbat – Parshat P’kudei, in which we complete the book of Shemot and the construction of the Mishkan; Shabbat Shekalim, the first of the Arba Parshiyot[5]; and Rosh Hodesh Adar II (the real adar!), which begins at the end of Shabbat.

Going back to the beautiful words of Shir Hashirim about love or devotion being stronger than rushing waters, the Sefat Emet explains this verse in comparison with the building of the mishkan. After the sin of the golden calf, it was as if Israel had been lost in a rush of waters, of sinfulness and straying. Yet even this very sad state, the love expressed by Israel through נדיבות, willingly and voluntarily giving of themselves was able to overcome the sin which they had committed through not trusting God and creating an image. While some might make light of the repetitive and less exciting nature of these parshiyot – I’ll even admit I was a bit disappointed when reading my Torah Temimah[6] commentary last Shabbat, which had two whole pages without any explanations – we should keep in mind the underlying beauty in the way which B’nei Yisrael gave willingly, and even more that they were asked.

In the very same comment, the Sefat Emet also provides a beautiful explanation connecting Parashat Shekalim, in which we read of the half-shekel which every male adult Israelite was obligated to give for the mishkan, and later the Beit Hamikdash each year. He writes,

שפת אמת שמות פרשת שקלים

משנכנס אדר מרבין בשמחה. הוא שמחת הנדבה שהביאו בנ"י בכל אדר השקלים. ואיתא מצות שקבלו עליהם בשמחה עדיין עושין כו'

When Adar enters, our joy is increased – this is the joy of giving shekalim willingly which happened each Adar…and they continue to uphold those mitzvot which they accepted upon themselves with gladness.

Even though we no longer bring shekalim to the Temple, this theme of giving still pervades the month of Adar for us today as we give mishloach manot[7] on Purim and even more importantly, matanot l’evyonim[8] to those who are less fortunate. In a beautiful connection, these acts which connect us to our friends and those in need were willingly accepted by the Jews of Persia after their deliverance from destruction, as it is written in Megillat (the scroll of Esther), קִיְּמוּ וְקִבְּלוּ , הַיְּהוּדִים, the Jews accepted and performed these acts for their selves and their descendants (9:27) Even where we are commanded to give, the commandment can be performed at a much higher level when done with joy.

This idea brings us back to the Hillel and Yavneh communities and provides messages both for those of us who are sadly moving on and others who will pick up the mantle. To the underclassmen, I have complete faith that you will not let those many waters overcome your dedication to contributing though attending, planning programs and all types of events and keeping the warm special character of this place, most importantly achieved through chesed and welcoming all those who enter. And on the same note, I know that I and the other seniors will take the passion and dedication which we saw here at Yavneh and Hillel and place it into whichever communities we will enter next year in the future. But for all of us, may we never let the mighty waters overcome our passion, joy and dedication Judaism and community.

Shabbat Shalom and Adar Sheni Sameah!

[1] Daily services

[2] Classes on Jewish texts or other topics

[3] Programs of community service and assisting those in need

[4] 19^th Century Polish Hassidic leader

[5] Four additional Maftir Torah readings read in anticipation of the holidays of Purim and Pesah

[6] Commentary on the Torah by Rabbi Baruch Halevi Epstein, late nineteenth century Lithuania, which connects verses from the Torah with their citations in rabbinic literature.

[7] The commandment to give packages of food (minimally, two types of food to one friend) on Purim.

[8] The commandment to give to at least two needy individuals on Purim.

Shomea Tefilah: The Deep Roots of the Impulse for Participatory Communal Jewish Prayer

2010-04-29T14:05:00.008-04:00

ויהיו נא אמרינו לרצון לפני אדון כל

May our words be acceptable before the master of all

Atah Horeita, Introductory verse to Simchat Torah Hakafot

אמרינו האזינה ה' בינה הגיגינו

Hear our utterances, God; understand our meditations

Sh'ma Koleinu, Selichot Liturgy

יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך ה' צורי וגואלי

May the words of my mouth and meditations of my heart be acceptable before you, God, my Rock and Redeemer

-Psalms 19:15, Meditation at the conclusion of the Amidah

Each of the above verses, taken from the most joyous, serious and rote portions of the liturgy, share a focus on having a personal connection to the act of prayer, and thus to God. In each case, the words are written in the first person, whether in singular or plural (though interestingly, the יהיו לרצון verse is actually pluralized within the same Sh'ma Koleinu prayer). There is no mention of the ability of anyone to pray through the proxy of another. It is out of the words themselves that the beauty of tefilah arises, and may be enhanced by music or aesthetics. But these aesthetic elements must be designed to inspire one to pray with feeling and kavanah, not simply for the sake of their own beauty or performance.

A number of events and experiences over the past week have inspired me to write this blog post/article bringing together a collection of diverse modern Jewish voices who passionately argue that meaningful communal prayer can only take place when it is truly a shared activity by all, and not a performance done by a rabbi, cantor or other figure on their behalf. It has been most fascinating that voices as diverse as master theologian Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Rabbis David De Sola Pool and Hayyim Angel of Congregation Shearith Israel (The Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue) in New York and Rabbi Elie Kaunfer, founder of Mechon Hadar. Each, in their own context and particular community or audience passionately advocates for the importance of meaningful prayer by focusing on the centrality of the words and aesthetics which are conducive to kavanah. Many see the rejection of a 'high-church,' auditorium style sanctuary and non-participatory service as an innovation of the recent independent minyan movement. I would like to enhance this move towards more meaningful tefilah by demonstrating it as an ancient impulse, expressed by many prominent leaders of recent generations.

In 1953, Rabbi Heschel addressed the members of the Rabbinical Assembly at their convention with a speech entitled "The Spirit of Jewish Prayer." I believe that this choice of topic must have taken much nerve on the part of Heschel, based on the time period and the audacious nature of its contents (appropriate for its appearance in a book called Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity). In the 1950s, hundreds of Conservative congregations were building sprawling edifices in the growing North American suburbia Within them stood breathtaking sanctuaries seating hundreds, each anchored by an imposing bimah at which the rabbi and cantor face the congregation.

Coming from a hassidic background where prayer existed as way to express one's deepest feelings, these 'new' American synagogues likely seemed quite foreign to Heschel. He knows no boundaries in his words, as he expresses frustration with the spiritual void he sees in many of these synagogues and seeks to place hope in the potential which existed for change. At one point, he pleads to the rabbis to fulfill their ultimate spiritual mission beyond simply facilitating the stage directions of a Shabbat morning service.

The Rabbi's duty in the sacred hour of worship goes far beyond that of maintaining order and decorum. His unique task is to be a power for arousal, to endow others with a sense of kavanah. And as we have said, kavanah is more than a touch of emotion. kavanah is insight, appreciation.

After this plea that rabbis must lead their communities towards greater meaning and connection to prayer, Heschel directly addresses the aesthetics of the Conservative synagogue of his day, which still permeate in many places to our own day. He expresses a discomfort with the practice of having the rabbi and cantor face the congregation:

It was in the interest of bringing about order and decorum that in some synagogues the rabbi and cantor decided to occupy a position facing the congregation. It is possible that a reexamination of the whole problem of worship would lead to the conclusion that the innovation was an error. The essence of prayer is not decorum but rather an event in the lives of men...

A cantor who faces the holiness in the Ark rather than the curiosity of man will realize that his audience is God. He will learn that his task is not to entertain but to represent the people Israel. He will be carried away into moments in which he will forget the world, ignore the congregation and be overcome by the awareness of Him in whose presence he stands. The congregation then will hear and sense that the cantor is not giving a recital but worshipping God, that to pray does not mean to listen to a singer but to identify oneself with what is being proclaimed in their name {according to a footnote, Heschel is likely referring to the repetition of the Amidah here, not a belief in the ability for one to pray through the cantor alone}. (121-122)

I believe that Heschel makes an important point, one with which I personally identify in my preference for a makom tefilah (prayer environment) where the leader faces the same direction as those praying. This arrangement automatically makes a statement, reminding those gathered that the cantor has not ascended the bimah to perform, but as a shaliah tsibbur, an agent of the community. And s/he cannot be an agent unless those gathered are taught, possibly by the rabbi addressed by Heschel, that the cantor cannot lead unless the congregation has the intention, the kavanah to be led, to unite themselves in this act of prayer.

This past shabbat, I returned to Shearith Israel, the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue (and oldest congregation in North America, founded 1654) with two friends. As I described in an earlier post, I am repeatedly attracted to the service for its beauty, dignity, formality and structure. One might immediately ask, that if I was so inspired by Heschel, how can I be so moved by such a formal and orchestrated service? I believe that the minhagim (customs) of our Western Sephardic brethren have succeeded, where those shuls criticized by Heschel failed, in striking a beautiful balance between formality with participation and meaning.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel, the rabbi of the congregation and a brilliant speaker, author and teacher of Tanach, recently published a short booklet of the congregation's minhagim. One of the topics addressed is the special custom of the leader bowing to the officers of the congregation at the beginning of each service. This practice, which might seem strange to those unfamiliar with it, is actually a centuries-old demonstration of Heschel's idea that the cantor/leader must lead the congregation and not perform for them. Rabbi Angel writes:

One of the interesting customs that we have is the little bow from the Hazan to a trustee at the beginning of each service. When there is an officer... the Hazan will not begin the service without first standing, getting the attention of the presiding official, and exchanging a bow. While a seemingly trivial gesture, it carries with it important symbolism.
In Jewish tradition, the person leading the service is not a functionary or a performer. Rather, he represents the entire congregation in prayer. In Hebrew, the term used for the reader is sheli'ah tzibbur-- the appointed agent of the community. [At Shearith Israel,] the sheli'ah tsibbur stands at the center of the congregation. In this manner, the reader is surrounded by the congregation, acting as its agent rather than as its leader. In this spirit, our congregational melodies seldom accord arias for the Hazanim to sing solo (with a few notable, beautiful exceptions); rather we generally follow an antiphonal (Hazan-congregational response) format to indicate this mutual relationship as a community united in prayer.
When the Hazan receives permission from a representative of the communal leadership (represented by that bow), it is an act of accepting appointment to lead the congregation as its agent. in this way, the reader truly is designated as sheli'ah tzibbur and feels the significance as he begins the service. (Minhagim, 17-18)

As suggested by Heschel, when the aesthetics of prayer are 'done right', they will not only enhance the words of our prayers, but even serve to remind us of the purpose of our gathering is not to listen, but to actively pour out our deepest thoughts to God, led by a reader appointed by and agreeable to the community.

Rabbi Angel's sentiments about the meaning of gathering for tefilah echo the words of his illustrious predecessor Rabbi David de Sola Pool, Rabbi of of Shearith Israel from 1906-70 (and author of a number of Sephardic and Ashkenazic siddurim). In an address to the synagogue's Men's Club on his 75th birthday. He too presents his own vision for why Jewish prayer is a unifying, communal act is a speech entitled "The Meaning of Prayer":

When we pray with a congregation, our prayer is not self-centered. It takes on the character of social idealism. It voices the religious aspirations of the whole Jewish people. Our praying together expresses the urge of each of us to take his part in helping to bring into being an ennobled spiritual society. Our prayers, which are overwhelmingly in the plural, express the striving of all the people to reach God. In unifying brotherhood of collective worship and communal praying, every one of us as an individual draws inspiration and strength from others, while at the same time every one of us stimulates the congregation by bringing to it his individual increment of spiritual purpose and devotion. (Rabbi David de Sola Pool, 140)

Rabbi de Sola Pool describes in beautiful language the situation which can result when Jews are taught tom pray in the way desired by Heschel, when we might see the day that many flock to sanctuaries across the country not only to share shabbat with family and friends, but ready to express deep hopes and inspirations, both in the words of the siddur and the meditations of the heart.

Rabbi Elie Kaunfer, one of the founders of Kehilat Hadar and Director of Mechon Hadar, recently published a celebrated book Empowered Judaism, which I hope to read quite soon. He speaks about the rise of the independent minyan movement over the past decade. He speaks much of the time in practical terms, explaining his understanding of the challenges facing Judaism today, and how independent minyanim have attempted to face them. In a quote used by my friend Sandy at Columbia/Barnard Koach in a D'var Torah last Shabbat, Rabbi Kaunfer writes what he sees as the issue with why contemporary North American synagogues are often not engaging young (and old) Jews. He writes.

“The classic layout of the liberal American synagogue is one in which the clergy face the congregation from an elevated bimah, and all the davening and Torah reading take place at the front of the room. The layout of the room enforces the feeling that this prayer service is a performance to be watched, with the actors onstage at the front and the audience dutifully listening in the rows below.”

When read in isolation, these words may seem as if calling for an unprecedented revolution against the status quo of the large North American synagogue. but read in the context of Rabbi's Heschel, Angel and de Sola Pool it is not hard to see the long tradition from which Rabbi Kaunfer's impassioned call arises. Like his predecessors, he is calling on Jews to awaken and taste the meaning and communal bonding which can be derived from prayer if participants are willing to put their hearts and souls into it. I believe that each of these quotes sends a clear message about the ideal format and function which Jewish prayer may serve if those who come to pray are inspired to take part in this holy act. It may take time, patience, aesthetic, layout or architectural changes, but I believe that traditional prayer can be made meaningful and reachable to many who seek meaning in their lives.

ויחד לבבנו לאהבה וליראה את שמך, may You unite our hearts to express love and awe for Your name. Amen.

A grand shul-hop, across town and a century back in history!

2010-04-17T22:46:00.003-04:00

שמחתי באומרים לי בית ה' נלך - I rejoiced when they said unto me, let us go unto the house of the Lord (Psalm 122:1)

With these words began the opening choral piece of the Friday Evening Service at Temple Emanu-El, the oldest Reform congregation in the United States and the largest Synagogue in the world (larger than St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York's Catholic Diocese). I attended in order to experience what a 'Classical Reform' service is like, broadening my understanding of the richness of the practices of other parts of the Jewish people. I joined a group of classmates from Columbia who founded a group known as New Yachad City (founded by wonderful friends Ilana and Ya'arah) which visits different synagogues throughout the city a couple shabbatot per month. The fact that Emanuel has their Friday evening service at 5:15pm meant that I was able to take the subway and bus both directions before Shabbat officially began, at which point I attended a more traditional service at JTS. (Interestingly, many of the early benefactors of JTS were members of Emanu-El, including Emanu-El's president Louis Marshall. They generally did not wish to become Conservative Jews, but hoped that the new institution would attract Eastern European immgrants who would be uncomfortable with their own Reform practice but would be more comfortable with the more traditional observance of the Seminary).

Not only is the verse quoted above appropriate since it began a special piece performed at the Service in honor of Yom Haatzmaut (coming a long way from when Zionism was quite divisive in Reform Judaism), but it reflects the feeling of grandeur one experiences when they enter the Temple sanctuary, surrounded by stained glass windows, a ceiling over 100 feet high and a marble Bimah. It is hard not to feel that one is in the House of the Lord!

While the Reform movement has gone through a gradual re-embracing of Jewish ritual and customs over the past generation, including increasing the amount of Hebrew and congregational participation in their services, the main service at Emanu-El attempts to preserve the formality and dignity envisioned by the founders of Reform Judaism in America such as Isaac Mayer Wise and Kaufmann Kohler. Thus, the service began with a fifteen minute organ recital, which was beautiful but quite different from any Jewish service I had ever attended (and I've been to hundreds of different shuls and minyanim in my lifetime). At its conclusion, the choir began singing the Samachti piece mentioned above, as three rabbis (only one of whom had his/her head covered) and a cantor, all wearing clerical robes walked onto the Bimah. Unlike most Conservative and Orthodox shuls, the lecterns for the rabbi and cantor were at the corners of the Bimah as opposed to in the center, and were covered with canopies somewhat evocative of Anglican churches.

Emanu-El may be the only Reform Temple which continues to use the Union Prayer Book, first released in 1892 and last edited in the 1940s. In most congregations, it was supplanted by Gates of Prayer in the 1970s and Mishkan Tefila in 2008. However, Emanu-El continues to use the UPB

Conceived in the late l9th century by the growing Reform Movement in America, the Union Prayer Book (ultimately revised several times) is a work that combines the essence of Jewish tradition along with a spirit of classical dignity. By evoking the feeling that prayer is truly different, use of the Union Prayer Book is an attempt to reach a mode of thinking and feeling that transcends the ordinary here and now and that seeks the realms of the sublime.

You can find the nearly-complete text of the Union Prayer Book here on Google Books, which I encourage you to peruse in order to get a better sense of what the service at Emanu-El felt like. (you can also find podcasts of Emanu-El services here ). The English readings (which far outweighed the Hebrew) were recited either by the rabbi, or sometimes responsively or unison, reminded me of the translations in the Conservative movement's 1946 Silverman Siddur. Although I doubt this is the case in most contemporary Reform services, congregational singing was completely absent, replaced by either cantorial solos or the choir. The poetry of the UPB was sublime, but also felt distant, compared to modern translations like Sim Shalom or Koren. A feature that the UPB does contain and is missing from Sim Shalom is instructions on when to sit and stand, which meant that there were relatively few announcements and interruptions during the service. Like its successors, UPB contains several services from which the congregation can choose (we read mostly from Service III which began on p. 38.
Some highlights and interesting departures from traditional services with which I am more familiar included:

The Bar'chu was a call and response between the cantor and choir, without involving the Congregation
We rose for the Sh'ma and Baruch Shem - it was recited in unison in Hebrew and English by the congregation and rabbi, and then chanted by the cantor, with organ and choir (The baruch shem, traditionally said silently except for on Yom Kippur was also aloud). The V'ahavta was recited in unison, in English.
The cantor sang a piece for Mi Kamocha. It was an example of a few places where the UPB was quietly adjusted to match the congregation's current practice, as the words boke'a yam lifne moshe, 'who split the sea before Moses' were not found in the text, but were sung by the cantor.
The first paragraph of the Amidah was recited in Hebrew by the rabbi and the second paragraph in unison in English, all done while seated (as I mentioned earlier that the Shema was recited while standing, it represents the centrality of God's oneness over His revelation to our ancestors for the fathers of the Reform movement).
A special prayer was added (found on p. 68) in honor of Yom Haatzmaut. It did not mention Israel by name, since the last edition of the UPB was published in 1940.
After the singing of Yerushalayim Shel Zahav (mostly in English) by the cantor and choir and some announcements, the concluding prayers of the classical Reform liturgy began with the Adoration (similar to Alenu), during which the Ark was opened. It was sung in English by the cantor, after which she chanted the line 'Va'anachnu Kor'im' in Hebrew. A second paragraph was read by the rabbi in English, and the choir sang 'V'ne'emar', though only the words beginning Bayom Hahu were found in the text.
An English meditation was read by the rabbi to introduce the Kaddish. She then asked all to stand to mark the Yahrzeit (though that term was not used) of Gustav Gottheil, a rabbi of the Temple in the late 19th century. Interestingly, Kaddish was recited in an Ashkenazic pronunciation, though most of the liturgy had been said in a more Israeli one. In another departure from the UPB, the passage Al Yisrael v'al Tzidkaya which was added by the authors to make mention of death and mourning to the Kaddish was no longer recited.
At the end of the service, the rabbi stood in the center of the Bimah and raised his hands as if performing Dukhening, reciting the priestly benediction.
Although I was unable to stay for long, the service was followed by an Oneg Shabbat in the lobby where Shalom Aleichem was sung followed by candlelighting, a recent addition or rituals that used to be considered foreign to Reform sensibilities.

Although the service at Emanu-El did not feel even close to a normal 'davening' for me (which is why I attended another service afterwards), it was a privilege to have this unique experience and better understand an important facet of American Jewish history and the development of Jewish liturgy. It would be hard to not be impressed by the flawless orchestration of the service and all of its different elements, despite the almost complete lack of interaction between the clergy and congregation. May God accept the prayers of all Israel, no matter where they are or how they pray. Amen.

Parashat Vaera 5770: Partners with God - A divine Call and a personal responsibility

2010-01-14T20:05:00.008-05:00

While I have not written a blog entry in months, I was moved to do so by a number of reminders of this Parsha's message which came to me as I went through a quite enjoyable final week of vacation. At first, I expected to have trouble responding to this week's narrative, which focuses on the first seven of the ten plagues, I hope you will also see the powerful connections I felt to the refrain proclaim by God, through Moses and Aaron, to Pharaoh - שלח את עמי ויעבדני, Send my people forth so that they may serve me (Exodus 7:16 et. al.). Beyond the plain meaning of this text, this call has meant so much to so many different people, Jews and non-Jews, throughout history, who have sought the God-given rights to freedom and dignity, especially the same freedom to serve God sought in the Parsha.

Less than twenty-four hours after returning from Israel and a stopover in Belgium, I ran out from minyan Monday morning and headed downtown on the subway to the New York Supreme Court to answer a summons for jury duty. Although it felt like a chore at times, especially as I spent most of my time (all of Monday and the first hour of Tuesday) just waiting for my name to be called, an experience I had Monday afternoon, coupled with the reminder in the juror orientation video that the jury system came to replace the use of trial by ordeal, made me think otherwise.
After being released early for the day on Monday, I spent some time sightseeing downtown, and took a few hours to explore the Museum of Jewish Heritage, which I hadn't been to since I was in sixth grade. The Museum tells the story of twentieth and twenty-first century world Jewry in three parts: Jewish Life a Century Ago, The War Againt the Jews, and Jewish Renewal. As I walked through the section depicting the Holocaust, especially the many points during which rights and dignity were taken away from Jews and others, an intense feeling of Thankfulness came over me. The fact that as an openly practicing Jew, I was called upon to fulfill this civic duty just like any other citizen (besides for the fact that one of the court clerks was wearing a kippah) is an answer to the call of שלח את עמי ויעבדני. The demand of Pharaoh was not just that the Hebrews should be released to be free from any obligation, but the freedom to accept responsibilities to God and their fellow people, to build a better society than the one from which they had come. Although I have generally been one to take civic duties like voting seriously, the intense reminder of what happens when rights are taken away from Jews and non-Jews in a society was more than enough for me to see jury duty as not just an obligation, but a right and privilege, a way to attempt to emulate God's command of צדק צדק תרדף, justice, justice shall you pursue.

I did not have to leave the museum to again be reminded of this Parsha's message of freedom from tyranny. A moving changing exhibit focused on a phenomenon with which I was previously unfamiliar, a small but significant group of Jewish refugee professors who were saved from Nazi Germany by being given offers to teach at Black colleges, who unlike certain other institutions, had no issue with hiring a Jew. Besides for transmitting knowledge and being thankful for their lives having being saved, these professors shared the belief that all people were created equal, and should have equal opportunities. One of them was quoted with putting forth an idea that was logical yet revolutionary for the time, that he saw no reason why Black students should not be challenged and could not be capable like any others. In the same vein, a student remarked that they were at first uncomfortable with one of the refugee professors calling on students whether they were prepared or not, and waiting for what seemed like eternities for them to produce an answer; the same student later remarked that when he went to law school, he was more prepared than any other student for what was a standard tool of pedagogy. Both the refugee professors and their students cried out שלח את עמי, let me be free, let my life be spared or let me have the same rights as my neighbors - but the saga also embodied the spirit of ויעבדני, and serve Me, as the professors did not take being spared for granted, and their eager students were willing to work hard, for both personal achievement and so they could fulfill the same rights, like jury duty, as their peers.

The next day, I was perusing the Jewish news on JTA (I'll admit it, on twitter), and came across yet another courageous figure who acted in the spirit of his ancestors, Moses and Aaron -- Rabbi Murray Saltzman, a civil rights leader who passed way just the other day. While the rabbi devoted much of his career to this noble cause, one incident touched especially:

At HUC [Hebrew Union College, the Reform movement's seminary] , he and a fellow student -- an African-American professor studying for a doctorate in rabbinics -- went to a restaurant for a meal. The diner would not serve the professor, leading Saltzman to organize a lunch counter sit-in until his classmate was served.

Just as Moses and Aaron continued relentlessly to push Pharaoh to let the people go, Rabbi Murray Saltzman did not acquiesce to his colleague not being served like himself, but persevered until justice was achieved and both he and his colleague were served. In doing so, he anticipated what would become the most repeated mantra in the Torah - כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Unfortunately, we were also forced this week to look to our tradition for help in responding to the intense tragedy which ensued from the devastating earthquake in Haiti this week. This is not the right forum for theodicy (dealing with why evil happens); I would much rather devote the space to how we should respond to this tragedy after it occurred.
The idea of doing what is within our power to help those in need, and saying that we are our brothers' keepers came to mind when reading the commentary of the Sefat Emet, Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter of the Ger Hassidic dynasty on this week's Parsha. He began his remarks in 1871 by quoting a midrash about Reuben, Joseph's brother, who had attempted to save Joseph from being killed by the other brothers with the idea of throwing them into a pit. The midrash says that the verse regarding Reuven (Genesis 37:22) came to give testimony before God, and implicate Reuven for not fulfilling the words in the verse, למען הציל אותו מידם להשיבו אל אביו, that he had asked the brothers to throw Joseph into a pit 'in order to save him from their hands, to return him to their father." Reuven responded, "if I had known that those words would be recorded I would have worked harder to fulfill them." The Sefat Emet comments mystically that God has plans preassigned for individuals and the course of history; but nevertheless, it is up to us to fulfill them -- that is our challenge and purpose in this world. Connecting it to our parasha, he highlights the point where Moses spoke to the people, who did not listen to him for being broken-spirited. Just like Reuven, Moses had a mission to fulfill. He eventually did so,. despite doubts and setbacks, because he knew that there was an expectation of him to act and do what is right.

We are in the same situation - the writing is on the wall, on the TV screens and in the newspapers of the tragic loss of human life and infrastructure which occurred in Haiti. I also believe that it is clear what our responsibilities are, as we are created בצלם אלוהים, in God's image. As Jews, we have an additional responsibility to look after those who have been made to feel like strangers in their own backyards, for we were strangers in the land of Egypt (and countless other times in history). Thus, we must not allow ourselves to be like Reuven, saying that if only we knew how history would record these events, would have worked harder. Thus, we should continue to steadfastly support the amazing fundraising and relief efforts that have been put into place, despite the setbacks that will occur. We will rather be like Moses in our Parsha, persevering because we believe that we will persevere and make a difference. I chose to make a donation to American Jewish World Service , and I encourage you, if you have the means, to contribute to this or any other organization helping with relief efforts. There is no such thing as too little.

To close on a happier note, this week's parsha is truly everywhere. I spent this afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and came across this famous medieval representation of Moses and Aaron confronting Pharaoh in Exodus 7. As the sense was meant to be satirizing the royal clashes of the artist's time, there is no doubt that the cry of שלח את עמי resonated then as well. I hope that it will resonate with all of us this Shabbat, as we remember the multiple steps involved in God's call, that we are only free from tyranny if we take responsibility to work towards Justice in the Jewish community, in our society, and for all of God's creations.

Shabbat Shalom.

Only at JTS - Halloween = יום העצמות?!

2009-10-28T15:38:00.002-04:00

I was chatting with Professor Visotzky today before class, and we were discussing an article assigned by Prof. James Kugel
Prof. Visotzky: Jim is a wonderful writer and lecturer
me: I didn't get to hear him at the Seminary last year, but I did hear him lecture last year at Or Zarua, speaking about if there ever was an independent Jewish state before '48.
Prof. Visotzky: Prof. Lieberman once gave a lecture about Yom Haatzmaut. He was talking about how we don't have the phrase יום העצמעות (Independence Day)in Rabbinic Literature. However, we do have the phrase יום העצמות (Day of Bones), referring to Ezekiel's vision of the revived dry bones, which were the house of Israel. And that's how he really saw the state of Israel (how beautiful :)).
Another student walks in: יום העצמות - Is that halloween?
As we like to say, tradition and change...

2 in 1: Shul-Hopping and Piyyut of The Week

2009-10-18T19:17:00.010-04:00

While my writing has been a bit sporadic between the holidays (which were very joyous but also tiring), I was moved to share one of my favorite shulhopping experiences, which I took for the second time with my friend Jonah this past shabbat. Although I have been davening at Hillel a lot over the past year, it would be a shame to not take advantage of the diversity of synagogues and Minyanim in Manhattan, and it's always nice to share it with a friend.
Though I had been there once before at the end of last summer, I returned with Jonah to Congregation Shearith Israel, also known as the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue, which has the distinction of being the oldest Jewish congregation in the United States, founded by the first Jews to arrive in New Amsterdam in 1654 after being forced to leave the Colony of Recife, Brazil. The congregation was founded by and still counts most of its membership among Western Sefardim, those who were expelled from Spain (and later Portugal), whose descendants who remained in the West found havens in the Netherlands, and later England and the Americas. I fell in love with the service because of the beauty in every aspect of its orchestration - the sanctuary, one of the most stunning in the country (with a marble Bimah/Ark, golden doors, and Tiffany windows, just to start), unique liturgy and melodies, and the decorum that is unparalleled in most communities of any background.
While last year's visit was also special (and had an amazing extended kiddush for a 95th birthday), I was told that i had to come back on another shabbat when the synagogue's choir would be singing.
When Jonah and I arrived for the start of services at 8:15, there were very few people there, owing to the fact that Birkot Hashachar and Zemirot (known as P'sukei D'zimra by Ashkenazim) take about an hour, and many choose to arrive at some point before shacharit begins. When I attended last time, one of the congregants expaine their custom that one may sit when the Hechal (ark) is open, but that was towards the end of the service. This week, the golden Hechal doors were opened at Barukh Sheamar, early in the service, and the Sifrei Torah were decked out with a rainbow of covers, as opposed to the usual red velvet - based on instructions the siddur, I deduced that it was a Consecration Shabbat, when special features are added to the service in honor of the dedication of one of the Congregation's buildings. After Az Yashir was sung aloud (to a melody that would be familiar to anyone who grew up at Ramah or USY), the Rabbi (whose job is somewhat interchangeable with the Hazzan's at Shearith Israel), arose to the Tebah (reader's desk), and proceeded to lead to congregation in a special piyyut for the Consecration Shabbat known as a reshut, in which the worshippers poetically introduce and ask permission to recite Nishmat, a prayer recited in all tradition on Shabbat and Festivals, describing how 'all living creatures will praise God's name.' Interestingly, dozens of reshuyot, poems written to introduce Nishmat exist, but most have fallen out of use, especially among Ashkenazim. One such Reshut, Tzam'a Nafshi, was originally composed to be recited at this point in the service on Shemini Atzeret, and has instead become a popular zemer sung at the Shabbat table. In this particular Reshut, T'hilot l'el Chai, the author approaches God in reverence and joy ready to worship God, appropriate for its use on a Shabbat of dedication.
Since I couldn't find a recording or lyrics to the poem online (possibly signifying that it is unique to the small Western Sefardi community), I scanned it from the Hebrew English Western Sefardic Siddur (choosing to write my own translation, with no disrespect to the poetic one by Dr. David De Sola Pool), and record the first few verses. Again, the melody was shockingly familiar, and I imagine that others will recognize it as well.

Thanks to God and sweet smelling incense
- The praise of the souls of all living creatures.

You name, Adonai our God, Shall be forever blessed, Our king
- And the spirit of all living flesh, The praise of the souls of all living creatures.

Do not look to my trangressions, and do not remember my iniquities
-And I will sing my songs of praise, The praise of the souls of all living creatures.

Be raised high and acclaimed, King who sits on an exalted throne.
-To you I will give all of my praises, The praise of the souls of all living creatures.

Through this, bring us out of exile, and be quick to fulfill the word of Your prophet,
-To annoint the son of Jesse, with the thanks of the souls of all living creatures.

Bring us to Your [holy] city, and reestablish Your Temple,
-There I will offer my sacrifices, and there I will sing Nishmat Kol Chai.

After the rabbi returned to his seat on the bench in the center Bimah (see above photo), I was (pleasantly) awoken as choir began to chant Nishmat from a loft above the Hechal. As with the rest of the service they sang without any microphones, but Jonah noticed a vent intuitively built into the wall which carried the sound down to the main floor. Unlike in the Ashkenazi cantorial/choral tradition, the choir does not really chant any extended 'pieces', but chants the lines of service in a back and forth (antiphony) with the congregation and leader, with many lines sung in a call and response. After taking the Music Humanities course at Columbia last semester, I have a greater appreciation for the baroque style of the Western Sefardi Nusah, with its greater proportion of singing in a major key than Ashkenazi Nusah.
As with last time, I again enjoyed the rest of the service, with the beauty of the pomp and circumstance which raises Tefilah to a new level (though I still enjoy more infomal davening as well). It was amazing to think during the prayer for the country (which was followed by the prayer for Israel), that a version of this prayer has been recited by the forebears of these congregants since the founding of the country in 1776, before which a prayer was surely recited for the Dutch and British monarchies, respectively. A hallmark of Shearith Israel's tradition is that each man who receives an honor, including the boy who held the bells which adorn the Torah, must wear a hat of some sort, whether it is a bowler, top-hat, or the special cap worn by the clergy. Even the announcements have a liturgical plasce in the order of the service, as they are marked in the siddur following the blessing of the new month (or the Haftarah blessings), after which the Rabbi/Hazzan intones the verse, יהי חסדך ה' עלינו כאשר יחלנו לך 'May God's grace be upon us as we have placed our trust in Him,' signifying the hope that the community's activities are in accordance with God's will. Although the entire service was recited in Hebrew (and mostly aloud, as the Musaf Amidah was recited by the entire congregation with the Hazzan, there being no silent devotion), I was again fascinated by the Hazzan preceding the recitiation of Kiddush with Isaiah 58:13-14 in English. While I would like to learn more about this custom, my guess is that it is an old tradition, as the congregation's leaders directly appeal to them to honor and keep the Sabbath holy as they return home from the synagogue.
I look forward to my next visit Shearith Israel, as well as other Congregations in Manhattan and beyond which I hope to experience. I hope that others will join me in the fine tradition of shulhopping, experiencing how Jewish communities hailing from around the world and expressing a variety of beliefs, give meaning and honor to the act of worshiping God.

Yom Kippur: A time of closeness to God - Piyyut of the Week, L'cha Eli T'shukati

2009-09-23T18:21:00.003-04:00

Many, including myself when I was younger, have the misconception that Yom Kippur is a sad and somber day on the Jewish Calendar. In fact, our tradition teaches, in Mishnah Ta'anit 4:8, that there were no happy days for Israel as the 15th of Av and Yom Kippur. Unlike Tisha B'av, we do not fast and deny ourselves pleasure out of mourning, but we do so as a way to atone for our sins.
Among the most moving themes of the liturgy of the day is that of closeness to God. Because we are confident that we will be forgiven on this day, the common Ashkenazi melody for the Vidui (confessional) is so happy, and in some communities, dancing takes place during some of the Piyutim, especially Mar'eh Kohen (How beautiful was the High Priest) after the description of the Temple service in Musaf. At least for Ashkenazim, this is the only day of the year that the line Barukh Shem Kevod following the Shema is recited aloud as it used to be in the Temple, and not in our usual undertone.
One of my favorite websites, Piyut.org.il, features the text and melodies for Jewish liturgical poety from across the spectrum of time, place and tradition, spanning from Greece to France and America to Tunisia. The featured piyyut this week is L'cha Eli T'shukati ascribed to the one of the famous Spanish-Jewish poets, Avraham Ibn Ezra or Yehuda Halevi. Although I had never heard of it before, I was drawn both by the words, in which the individual confesses to God as a lover would for their mate. It contains themes of both love and desire, as well as a poeticized version of the confession, going through our alphabetical laundry list of sins.
Again although I had never heard of this stirring piyyut before, it is one of the most well-known in the Sefardic tradition, recited throughout the world in their tradition as Jews gather in the synagogue to prepare for the recitation of Kol Nidrei. On that note, it is especially significant that in their custom, the dry, legal declaration of Kol Nidrei is preceded by an moving and emotional expression of our feelings of closeness to God which we will experience over Yom Kippur. The following translation is only of a selection from the very long piyyut; if you understand Hebrew, I encourage you to look at the full text, including the detailed confessional here. Below the text and translation, enjoy the music video of the piyyut by popular Israeli artist Meir Banai, whose rendition so moved me. If you are not moved by your high holy day services, imagine this melody as you prepare for this period of closeness, the holiest twenty five hours of the year in which we celebrate our passionate love for God, 'for we are Your children, and You, our parent.'

G'mar Hatima Tova! May you be inscribed for a happy and healthy year.

For You, God is my passion; in You is my love and affection.

Yours are my heart and organs, to You are my soul and spirit.

Yours are my hands and legs, and from You are my very thoughts.

For Yours are my blood and limbs, and my flesh and my essence.

Yours are my eyes and my ideas and my shape and creation.

To You I owe my spirit, my strength, and my hope and trust is in You.

To You I will yearn and I cannot compare, until my darkness will shine brightly.

To You I will shout, and to You I will cling until my return to my land.

To You is the kingship and pride, the direction of my praise.

From You is help at the time of need, be my help in my distress.

בְּךָ חֶשְׁקִי וְאַהֲבָתִי

לְךָ רוּחִי וְנִשְׁמָתִי

וּמִמָּךְ הִיא תְּכוּנָתִי

וְעוֹרִי עִם גְּוִיָּתִי

וְצוּרָתִי וְתַבְנִיתִי

וּמִבְטַחִי וְתִקְוָתִי

עֲדֵי תָּאִיר אֲפֵלָתִי

עֲדֵי שׁוּבִי לְאַדְמָתִי

לְךָ תֵאוֹת תְּהִלָּתִי

הֱיֵה עֶזְרִי בְּצָרָתִי

לְךָ אֵלִי תְּשׁוּקָתִי

לְךָ לִבִּי וְכִלְיוֹתַי

לְךָ יָדַי לְךָ רַגְלַי

לְךָ עַצְמִי לְךָ דָמִי
לְךָ עֵינַי וְרַעְיוֹנַי

לְךָ רוּחִי לְךָ כֹחִי
לְךָ אֶהֱמֶה וְלֹא אֶדְמֶה

לְךָ אֶזְעַק בְּךָ אֶדְבַּק
לְךָ מַלְכוּת לְךָ גֵאוּת

לְךָ עֶזְרָה בְּעֵת צָרָה

Piyyut of the week: We come finally, with trepidation -- במוצאי מנוחה - As Shabbat Leaves Us

2009-09-06T22:04:00.006-04:00

For the past few weeks, we have been examining piyyutim - poetry from the Sefardi tradition of selichot, which are recited early each morning beginning on the first of Elul. This coming Saturday night we will finally arrive at the appointed hour when the Askhenazi tradition will also begin reciting these petitions for forgiveness as we lead towards Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
(As an aside, the differing lengths of time for which Selichot are recited is not based on greater or lesser piety, but two different explanations. Sefardim recite these prayers for forty days, paralleling the time that Moses spent on Mount Sinai petitioning to God before receiving the second set of the Aseret Hadibrot. According to tradition, he ascended on Rosh Hodesh Elul and descended on Yom Kippur, at which point God granted forgiveness to the people. The Ashkenazi custom is based on the idea of having a series of ten days of fasting leading up to Yom Kippur. Since there are four days during the Aseret Y'mei Teshuva (Ten days of Repentance) when it is forbidden to fast - the two days of Rosh Hashanah, Shabbat Shuvah, and Erev Yom Kippur, these four days of fasting would be brought forward, prior to Rosh Hashanah. The tradition of the ten days of fasting, on which we now recite selichot even if we do eat, is combined with the idea of the end of Shabbat being a time of special favor before God. Thus, Ashkenazim begin to recite Selichot on the Saturday night at least four days before Rosh Hashanah.)

Although Selichot are generally recited before dawn, on this first night of Ashkenazi selichot, the practise has grown up to recite the service close to midnight. Some shuls offer special lectures or educational programs prior to selichot, and others accompany the service with a cantor, choir (or even a band at the Carlebach Shul). At the center of each day's order of Selichot is the piyyut known as a pizmon, or chorus, since each stanza of this genre concludes with a repeating chorus.

On the first night of Selichot, the featured pizmon is entitled B'motzaei M'nucha, As Shabbat Leaves Us. It is appropriate on many levels at be recited/sung at this point in the season. Besides for speaking of the ending of Shabbat, the poem also contains many images of the Jewish people standing in reverence before God. This is especially appropriate as it is very often recited close to the week of Parashat Nitzavim, which opens with the verse, "You, all all of you are standing before Adonai your God, the leaders of your tribes, elders, officials, and each individual in Israel." (Devarim 29:9). I hope you enjoy the following translation and commentary on this beautiful, moving (and anonymous) poem which has taken such a central place in the Ashkenazi liturgy

As Shabbat leaves us we first come before You,

Open Your ear from above, One who is enthroned upon our praise

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

בְּמוֹצָאֵי מְנוּחָה קִדַּמְנוּךָ תְּחִלָּה

הַט אָזְנְךָ מִמָּרוֹם יוֹשֵׁב תְּהִלָּה

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

Put out Your valorous right arm to display might,

For with justice a ram was bound and scarificed in his [Isaac's] place

Please protect his desecendants who cry out to You while it is still night.

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

אֶת יְמִין עֹז עוֹרְרָה לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל

בְּצֶדֶק נֶעֱקַד וְנִשְׁחַט תְּמוּרוֹ אַיִל

גְּנוֹן נָא גִזְעוֹ בְּזַעֲקָתָם בְּעוֹד לָיִל

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

Seek, please, those who seek You when they seek Your face

Be accepting of them from the heavens, Your dwelling place

And from the cries of their pleas do not turn away Your ear,

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

דְּרוֹשׁ נָא דוֹרְשֶׁיךָ בְּדָרְשָׁם פָּנֶיךָ

הִדָּרֶשׁ לָמוֹ מִשְּׁמֵי מְעוֹנֶךָ

וּלְשַׁוְעַת חִנּוּנָם אַל תַּעְלֵם אָזְנֶךָ

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

[They, Israel] Tremble and quake from the day of Your arrival [to judge them, on Rosh Hashanah]

They are fearful like a woman, pregnant for the first time, from the passion of Your judgment.

Blot out their shortcomings so that they can bear witness to Your wonders,

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

זוֹחֲלִים וְרוֹעֲדִים מִיּוֹם בּוֹאֶךָ

חָלִים כְּמַבְכִּירָה מֵעֶבְרַת מַשָּׂאֶךָ

טִנּוּפָם מְחֵה נָא וְיוֹדוּ פִלְאֶךָ

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

You are the creator for every being that was created

You then established a remedy to bring them back from the depths of sin

To have baseless mercy upon them from the hidden store

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

יוֹצֵר אַתָּה לְכָל יְצִיר נוֹצָר

כּוֹנַנְתָּ מֵאָז תֶּרֶף לְחַלְּצָם מִמֵּצָר

לְחוֹנְנָם חִנָּם מֵאוֹצָר הַמְּנוּצָּר

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

Dweller on high, if the sins of Your people have multiplied so much

Please give them forgiveness from the storehouse ready in Your abode

For Your witnesses approach You, even though they are unworthy,

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

מָרוֹם אִם עָצְמוּ פִשְׁעֵי קְהָלֶךָ

נָא שַׂגְּבֵם מֵאוֹצָר הַמּוּכָן בִּזְבוּלֶךָ

עָדֶיךָ לָחֹן חִנָּם בָּאִים אֵלֶיךָ

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

Please turn to the suffering and not the sins
Bring justice to those who cry out to You, O maker of wonders
Hear now their petition, God, Lord of Hosts
To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

פְּנֵה נָא אֶל הַתְּלָאוֹת וְאַל לַחֲטָאוֹת

צַדֵּק צוֹעֲקֶיךָ מַפְלִיא פְלָאוֹת

קְשׁוֹב נָא חִנּוּנָם אֱלֹהִים יְיָ צְבָאוֹת

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

Accept their prayer-offering as they stand before You in the night

Hear and find it pleasing, like meal offerings and sacrifices

Show them wonders, God, who exhibits greatness,

To hear the pleasantness and the prayer.

רְצֵה עֲתִירָתָם בְּעָמְדָם בַּלֵּילוֹת

שְׁעֵה נָא בְרָצוֹן כְּקָרְבַּן כָּלִיל וְעוֹלוֹת

תַּרְאֵם נִסֶּיךָ עוֹשֶׂה גְדוֹלוֹת

לִשְׁמֹעַ אֶל הָרִנָּה וְאֶל הַתְּפִלָּה

The paytan who composed this Pizmon most likely lived in the later piyyut period, as the poem features a rhyme in each stanza, epithets such as those referring to Isaac and Israel, and vocabulary unique to piyyut. Part of what makes the words so stirring and appropriate for this first night of selichot, is the tying together of a number of themes: Our approaching God late at night - a time of favor, our doing so with sweet words and melodies, and in contrast our appeal to God despite our unworthiness and sinfulness. As this Pizmon speaks in somewhat general tones about these ideas, it fittingly introduces the themes that will be discussed and grappled with through the ever-changing piyyutim of the Ashkenazi liturgy.

I hope that you take the time to appreciate the beauty of this ancient, yet timely poetry, especially if you attend any of the various selichot services that will take place around the world this Saturday Night, במוצאי מנוחה, at the close of Shabbat.

As a treat I hope readers will enjoy this rendition of B'motzaei M'nucha by Hazzan Moshe Stern and choir from the Great Synagogue in Tel Aviv:

אדון הסליחות - Adon Haselichot & Parashat Ki Tavo: Because we should always serve God with Joy!

2009-09-02T14:44:00.003-04:00

Probably the most extraordinary feature of this week's parasha of Ki Tavo, though not necessarily the most positive, is the listing of curses at the conclusion known as the tokhekha, or admonition. Chapter 28 begins with fourteen verses of blessings that will take effect if the people of Israel follow God's commandments when they enter the land of Israel. This relatively brief description of blessing is followed by a detailed, disturbing, fifty four verse long section of curses. Because of their R-rated nature, a number of special customs have grown up around the reading, including reading the section in at a fast pace and in an undertone, giving the aliyah to the Torah reader or communal leader (so as not to make it look like one is putting a curse on a member of the community), and even changing two words, in verses 27 (from ובעפלים to ובטחורים) and 29 (from ישגלנה to ישכבנה), because the words in the Torah are considered too sever to read in public.
Beginning in verse 46, we are told of the reasons that we are punished. The first is expected, "for you did not heed the voice of God to to keep and do His statutes and commandments." The second may seem a bit odd at first -- "because you did not serve God with joy and gladness of heart, on account of the abundance that you were given." One might think that while being joyful is a nice idea, it is albeit merely an enhancement to the need to perform mitzvot to the letter of the law. But this is not the case, as it is written here, as well as in may other places, such as regarding the upcoming Holiday of Sukkot (Deuteronomy 16:13). The idea of enjoying ourselves and being glad is not a new, 21st century practice, but has been part of Judaism from the very beginning. In fact, even less obviously joyful occasions, like Selichot and Yom Kippur, can be enhanced when we express our joy that God has given us the opportunity to be forgiven and start anew each year.

This idea is expressed in both the words and music of one of the most popular Sefardi selichot, אדון הסליחות, which is sadly absent from the Ashkenazi tradition. Below you will find the text, my translation and commentary, and two different ways that singers and hazzanim have joyously performed this piyyut:

אֲדון הַסְּלִיחות.
בּוחֵן לְבָבות.
גּולֶה עֲמוּקות.
דּובֵר צְדָקות.

חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ:

הָדוּר בְּנִפְלָאות.
וָתִיק בְּנֶחָמות.
זוכֵר בְּרִית אָבות.
חוקֵר כְּלָיות:

חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ:

טוב וּמֵטִיב לַבְּרִיּות.
יודֵעַ כָּל נִסְתָּרות.
כּובֵשׁ עֲונות.
לובֵשׁ צְדָקות:

חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ:

מָלֵא זַכִּיּוּת.
נורָא תְהִלּות.
סולֵחַ עֲונות.
עונֶה בְּעֵת צָרות:

חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ:

פּועֵל יְשׁוּעות.
צופֶה עֲתִידות.
קורֵא הַדּורות.
רוכֵב עֲרָבות.
שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלּות.
תְּמִים דֵּעות:

חָטָאנוּ לְפָנֶיךָ רַחֵם עָלֵינוּ:
Ruler of forgiveness
[who] examines our hearts
Revealer of depths
Speaker of justice.
>>We have sinned before you; have mercy upon us.

Majestic with wonders
From times of old, comforting us
Remembering the covenant with our ancestors
Weighing our insides.
>>We have sinned before you; have mercy upon us.

Good and beneficent to His creations
Knower of all that is hidden
Conquering sin
Clothed in righteousness.
>>We have sinned before you; have mercy upon us.

Filled with giving merit
Raised with praises
Forgiving for those filled with sin
Answering when we call.
>>We have sinned before you; have mercy upon us.

Actualizing salvation
Seeing into the future
Calling upon the generations
Riding upon the heavens
Hearing our prayer
Perfect in words.
>>We have sinned before you; have mercy upon us.

While we are pouring out our hearts regarding our shortcomings during Selichot, this piyyut reminds us that while God is filled with Justice, He is at the same time filled with love and compassion for us. We are grateful, and even joyful that we are given the gift of being able to return and start over again each year. Thus, in both renditions below, the chorus, beginning חטאנו לפניך - We have sinned before you in recited in a joyful stride, for although we are ashamed of our sins, we come with love for God because of the love He has for us.

The first rendition uses probably the most common Sefardi melody for the piyyut, but does so with a techno beat. It is definitely full of confidence in our relationship with God, and ecstatic joy.

The second rendition was composed by Israeli artist Yonatan Razael. It has a very different tune and mode, much slower and more contemplative. However, it is clearly not mournful, and is still sung in a major key.

Adon Haselichot - Yonatan Razael

Shabbat Shalom, and best wishes for a joyous and meaningful Elul!

A (parodied) B'rakha for my 21st birthday!

2009-08-24T06:07:00.006-04:00

Yes, I know this makes me a bit of a nerd, but I thought it was funny. I hope it's a least a bit appreciated... (Based on the concluding B'rakha of the maggid section of the Haggadah)

בָּרוּךְ אתה ה אֱלֹקינוּ מֶלֶךְ העוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר גְּאָלָנוּ וְגָּאַל אֶת אֲבוֹתֵינוּ מִילדות לבגרות , וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַיום הַזֶּה לשתות בּוֹ יין ושכר כפי דינא דמלכותא . כֵּן ה אֱלֹקינוּ וֵאלֹקי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ יַגִּיעֵנוּ לְשבתות ,מוֹעֲדִים וְלִרְגָלִים אֲחֵרִים הַבָּאִים לִקְרָאתֵנוּ לְשָׁלוֹם, שְׂמֵחִים בְּשתיה לפניך וְשָׂשִׂים בַּעֲבוֹדָתֶךָ (ולא באותה שעה חס ושלום) . וְנֹשתה שָׁם מִן הַיין וּמִן הַבירה אֲשֶׁר יַגִּיעַ בקבוקם אל רמות מורנינגסיד, וְנוֹדֶה לְךָ שִׁיר חָדָש עַל גְּאֻלָּתֵנוּ ועַל פְּדוּת נַפְשֵׁנוּ מלעבור חוקי הממשלה. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה גָּאַל יִשְׂרָאֵל.

Blessed are you God, who has redeemed us and our ancestors from childhood to adulthood, and brought us to this day to drink wine and other intoxicating beverages according to the law of the land. Thus, may our God and the God of our ancestors bring us to Shabbatot, festivals and occasions in peace, happy in drink and joyous in your service (but not at the same time). There we will drink from the wines and from the beers whose bottles shall make their way to Morningside Heights, and sing to you a new song on our redemption and the rescue of our souls from breaking civil law. Blessed are You, Redeemer of Israel!

בן אדם מה לך נרדם Wake and repent!

2009-08-21T18:07:00.005-04:00

Having just returned from a busy summer serving as the Mashgiah at Camp Ramah in Nyack, I hope to return to more regular postings of my thoughts on all aspects of Judaism and beyond.

We have just celebrated Rosh Hodesh Elul, when we begin the process of self reflection in anticipation of the High Holidays, and at which point our Sefardi brethren begin reciting Selichot, prayers of repentance before dawn each morning (Ashkenazim do so beginning on the Motzei Shabbat with at least four days before Rosh Hashanah, this year on September 12/13).
On that note, I wanted to translate and present the piyyut Ben Adam from the Sefardic tradition, to which I only was first exposed when browsing the internet a few months back. Its words and music are haunting and stirring, as the worshipper is exhorted to arouse from their slumber and stand, exposed before God in a plea for forgiveness.

בֶּן אָדָם, מַה לְּךָ נִרְדָּם
בֶּן אָדָם, מַה לְּךָ נִרְדָּם, קוּם קְרָא בְּתַחֲנוּנִים.
שְׁפךְ שִׂיחָה, דְּרשׁ סְלִיחָה, מֵאֲדון הָאֲדונִים.
רְחַץ וּטְהַר, וְאַל תְּאַחַר, בְּטֶרֶם יָמִים פּונִים.
וּמְהֵרָה, רוּץ לְעֶזְרָה, לִפְנֵי שׁוכֵן מְעונִים.
וּמִפֶּשַׁע, וְגַם רֶשַׁע, בְּרַח וּפְחַד מֵאֲסונִים.
אָנָּא שְׁעֵה, שִׁמְךָ יודְעֵי, יִשְׂרָאֵל נֶאֱמָנִים.
לְךָ אֲדנָי הַצְּדָקָה. וְלָנוּ בּשֶׁת הַפָּנִים:
עֲמד כְּגֶבֶר, וְהִתְגַּבֵּר, לְהִתְוַדּות עַל חֲטָאִים.
יָהּ אֵל דְּרשׁ, בְּכבֶד ראשׁ, לְכַפֵּר עַל פְּשָׁעִים.
כִּי לְעולָם, לא נֶעְלָם, מִמֶּנּוּ נִפְלָאִים.
וְכָל מַאֲמָר, אֲשֶׁר יֵאָמַר, לְפָנָיו הֵם נִקְרָאִים.
הַמְּרַחֵם, הוּא יְרַחֵם, עָלֵינוּ כְּרַחֵם אָב עַל בָּנִים

Son of man, why do you slumber, come and present words of petition.
Pour out conversation, seek forgiveness, from the Master of Masters.
Wash and purify, do not tarry, for the days will soon pass
And soon, seek assistance from the One who dwells on high.
And from sin and evil - run away and fear from those who may ensnare.
Please listen to those who know Your name, Israel, your faithful.

>>For Yours, God, is justice, and for ours is shame.

Stand with pride (literally: as a man, a mensch), to confess for sins.
Seek God, with a bowed head, to atone for transgressions
Since forever, wonders will not cease from before our eyes-
And any word which may be uttered, before Him will be read
The Merciful one, He will have mercy, as a father has mercy on children.

In both Ashkenazi and Sefardi rites, the Selichot liturgy focuses on God's thirteen attributes of mercy, and the short confessional ("Ashamnu, Bagadnu"). Each section is preceded by collections of biblical verses, and the entire service opens with Ashrei and the Hatzi Kaddish.

This poem is placed after the kaddish, and before the collection of verses, whose opening line is also the refrain above. Ben Adam contains many elements of classical piyyut, including a rhyming structure and word plays which use the power of language to enhance our approach of God.

Part of the beauty of בן אדם is the mental landscape it creates. We have arisen, as individuals and as part of a community, at an (excuse the pun, ungodly) early hour to beg for forgiveness. The poet reminds us that we are in a special window of opportunity created by the Yamim HaNoraim (high holiday season), but one that, like speeding train, may escape us if we do not take advantage of us. We are reminded, that yes, we are full of shame and sin, for we did not live up to expectations we set for ourselves, and we failed others and God, as seen by the refrain ("For Your, God...").

However, we are thankful for the gift of Teshuva, of repentance and return to God and what is good. Those gathered are told to be a mensch, and begin the task of making amends to God and their fellows. Then, the merciful one will surely have mercy on us, for He is our father and we are His children.

For Ashkenazim, this month of Elul is marked by the daily blowing of the shofar and the twice daily recitation of Psalm 27, acknowledging God as our light and salvation, even when repentance may seem so difficult. i hope that the poetic expression of these ideas of Elul and repentance will help make your high holiday season more meaningful.

Please enjoy the following beautiful and haunting renditions of this meaningful piece of the sefardi liturgical tradition.

In the coming weeks, I hope to share more piyyutim that are less well-known that I have come across in my travels.

פרשת בהעלתך Light - why here, why now?

2009-06-10T18:40:00.004-04:00

Over the past few weeks since I returned from New York, I have attended a surprising number of shivas, for friends from the shul who have lost loved ones. My aunt also passed away last week after a painful fight with cancer - another sobering experience with death and loss.
It's not always easy to pay a shiva call. Each one is different, a new wound for a different family. In most of these cases, at least three of them, the deceased was in their nineties. In these recent days I have internalized that this length and quality of life, while comforting to those who knew and loved the person, does not reduce the tragedy of the loss. Just this morning, I davened shacharit at the shiva of a very sweet man, who always greeted each and every person בסבר פנים יפות, with a cheerful smile, and never missed shul on Shabbat morning (and always asked how I was). He gave so much in his 93 years, but it was so saddening to see the grief of his wife of sixty years - she was certainly blessed with so much, but it also meant that her loss was so great.

The thoughts that have followed me after these experiences have led me to write this d'var torah. It is my hope that these words, based on this week's portion of Behaalotcha. The other day, I was reading the weekly d'var torah of Kibbutz Hadati, Israel's religious kibbutz movement. It made light of the strange placement of the opening paragraph of the Parasha. Out of the blue, after the listing of elaborate gifts given by each of the tribal leaders for the Mishkan (portable sanctuary) at the end of Prashat Naso, God commands Moshe to turn to Aaron regarding the lighting of the Menorah each day.
To the rabbis, this juxtaposition seems out of place. First of all, detailed instructions were already given regarding the lighting of the Menorah, both in Exodus 27 (Prashat Tetzave) and Leviticus 24 (Parashat Emor). Secondly, what is the connection between this instruction and the gifts given for the dedication of the Mishkan? Rashi quotes a story in Midrash Tanchuma, in which Aaron is worried after seeing all of gold and silver vessels, animal and grain sacrifices brought each day for twelve days by each tribe, with the exception of the levites. God then answers Aaron with the portion contained in the beginning of B'ha'alot'cha, saying, 'but you, Aaron, and your children will light the Menorah each and every day!'
Ramban adds to Rashi's illumination (no pun intended) by quoting an additional portion of the Midrash, as God explains why the honor of lighting the Menorah is greater than the sacrifices brought by the tribal leaders. In the words of the midrash, the sacrifices could only be offered once, but the lights would be kindled by Aaron and his descendants for all future times. This presented a difficulty for Ramban - even in the time when Midrash Tanhuma was compiled, the Second Temple had been destroyed and the Menorah was no longer kindled by the kohanim. in Ramban's own spin, he replies that although the Menorah of the Temple may no longer be in use, the Hannukkah lights kindled by Jews each year commemorate and continue the light that was promised to Aaron to be eternal.
Ramban's interpretation can be used as a beautiful and meaningful metaphor for the losses we experience. Like in Tanhuma, when Aaron was promised the eternity of the menorah in the Temple, as we live life and appreciate those we care about, we rightfully don't think about the finite nature of the time we are given to them. With the loss of the Temple, and the loss of a loved one, an irreparable loss is created - the world seems to have changed, as it fells as though a part of our life is missing. But like the transformation of the Temple lights into the Hannukah lamps, the life of a loved one has only been transformed from being imminent, into the memories that will remain with us forever. Though one light may burn out, the special quality is that as long as a flame burns, it can always light another one in an unbroken chain. Just as the Hannukah lights are not the same as those lit daily by the kohanim, there is a more than tangible loss at the death of someone dear to us. But by remembering that person's deeds, and living the values that they lived can create an eternal flame, a נר חנוכה, that will continue to be lit as long as their memory is kept alive.

May the lights of those who we have lost continue to burn brightly for us eternally.

Thank You, PrezBo, for your commitment to pluralism and diversity!

2009-05-20T14:21:00.004-04:00

Although I did so from my couch and laptop in Toronto, I was extremely proud as a Columbia student to watch the 2009 University Commencement ceremony, which brings together graduates from all of Columbia's four undergraduate and dozen graduate schools. With over 30,000 graduates, family and friends in attendance, the ceremony takes over all of Columbia's Morningside Campus. While no individual graduates are singled out at this event (which are reserved for individual school class days), this is nevertheless a momentous occasion, as the President of the University, Lee Bollinger, officially conferred degrees on the sea of light blue caps and gowns which filled Low Plaza.
I write this short reflection to thank President Bollinger for his sensitivity to the needs of the University's Jewish students in his commitment to reschedule the 2010 commencement from its conflict with the major Jewish Holiday of Shavuot.
I believe that I speak for many observant students at Columbia when I say that my attendance at the school represents a commitment to being a part of the larger University, while staying true to my religious beliefs as well. While I am forced to miss classes for Jewish holidays, for which I often make up work or turn in assignments early, I perform this balancing act because I care about both my traditions, and my responsibilities to courses just like every other Columbia Student.
Some faculty, as stated in the report of the University Senate's Education Committee, opposed moving commencement for Shavuot for the reason that the school is a secular institution, and should not respect religious observances. On the contrary, PrezBo publicly threw his support behind the charge, stating:

“When there are a substantial number of students who have a conflict of conscience ... we want to do everything we can to accommodate that,” Bollinger said in an interview on Friday, when he first announced the change. He noted that Columbia is a secular university, which usually accommodates religious groups with makeup exams and classes, but “this is one that you can’t help people make up.”

As a well-spoken academic and public figure, Bollinger recognized his commitment to pluralism and inclusion at Columbia. The date change is not forcing anyone to mark Shavuot; rather it is giving all who wish to the opportunity to recognize and be recognized as part of the larger University.
Many argued that the date change would lead to a slippery slope; the University calendar, set ten years in advance, already lists a conflict between Commencement and Ramadan in 2018. On the contrary, changing the date for Shavuot should be a first step towards an equal commitment towards accommodating Ramadan as well.

Columbia holds a Baccalaureate service each year on the Sunday prior to Commencement. In this non-denominational service, students of all faiths are able to publicly share their engagement with their own faith traditions as a larger Columbia community. This past Sunday, Jacob Taber, a close friend of mine, spoke eloquently about how his observance of Shabbat, as a period of menucha, rest, from routine helped him to get more out of his four years at Columbia. This is a model of how religion should operate in the public sphere. All religions should be able to share their values and contribute to a more colorful discourse; no religion should be imposed or forced on any member or facet of the university.

In the book of Bemidbar, the Torah states (10:10):

וּבְיוֹם שִׂמְחַתְכֶם וּבְמוֹעֲדֵיכֶם וּבְרָאשֵׁי חָדְשֵׁיכֶם וּתְקַעְתֶּם בַּחֲצֹצְרֹת עַל עֹלֹתֵיכֶם וְעַל זִבְחֵי שַׁלְמֵיכֶם וְהָיוּ לָכֶם לְזִכָּרוֹן לִפְנֵי אֱלֹהֵיכֶם אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
And on your days of joy, and on your festivals, and new moons - you should blast trumpets on your sacrifices and peace offerings, and it shall be a remembrance before your God, I am Adonai your Lord.

Thank you, PrezBo, Hillel Staff, and others for their work in allowing us to hear both the words of the giving of the Torah on Shavuot, and the sounds of Pomp and Circumstance at University Commencement in May 2010!

For Further reading: Columbia Spectator

Take a Sabbatical, Don't Forget Your Brethren! Parashat Behar 5769

2009-05-15T09:36:00.005-04:00

(apologies for the late timing of these words on last week's parasha. I hope that they are timely and meaningful, nonetheless)

Times of transition are always appropriate for words of Torah. The beauty of its being an עץ חיים, a tree of life, is that each parasha is imbued with a sense of vitality, containing so many dimensions that it can always be applied to the situation at hand.
As I mark the point of being half-way through my undergraduate career, and prepare to leave campus after one last Shabbat, many aspects of Parashat Behar (the first half of a double portion with B'chukkotai) speak to my place at this point in the year and in life. Before discussing its first major topic of the commandment to observe a שמיטה (sabbatical) year every seventh year and a יובל, a Jubilee, every fifty years, a four word long condition is placed: כי תבואו אל הארץ - When you come to the land. While it is always important and meaningful to learn about these mitzvot, we are reminded, even before they are detailed, that they can only be performed in the land. I take it as a personal reminder to never forget my commitment to Israel and Zionism. I hope to find a way back to Israel this coming winter. While we should certainly rejoice in our adopted homes in the Diaspora, and be thankful for all they have given us, we must never forget the holiness in the land of Israel, as well as the imperfect, but irreplacable land of Israel.
As I mentioned last week, this semester has been a busy one for me, doing some schoolwork in between Hillel, minyan, work study, other jobs and more. I would like to see this summer as a type of person Sh'mitah, with the hope that the slightly slower pace at which I can move will give me time to reflect on my priorities, and which ways I can improve my actions and interactions. While unfortunately not everyone is luck enough to receive such a long break, we can certainly all take lessons from this mitzvah of letting the land lie fallow once every seven years. As I felt at certain points during the semester, I was spending all of my time and energy on my classes, jobs, and Hillel position, and often failed to think enough of the larger world community beyond Morningside Heights, where there is so much work that needs to be done. Sometimes, we need a reminder like sh'mittah to tell us to think about our families, friends, God, Am Yisrael (the Jewish people) and Kol Yosh'vei Tevel, all the inhabitants of the world.
In the middle of Behar, the Torah transitions into another 6/7 year cycle, that of the Hebrew slave, who often sells him or herself in order to pay back a debt. We are told:

כי ימוך אחיך עמך ונמכר לך, לא תעבד בו עבודת עבד,
When your brother becomes destitude and is sold to you, do not work them as one would a slave. (Leviticus 25:39)

Vayikra Rabbah, the 5th century Palestinian midrash on Leviticus which I studied this past semester, presents a fascinating take on this verse, expanding and connecting a number of important concepts in how to treat the 'other,' reminding us how there really are people who depend on our actions to provide for them in their times of need - just as others help us up when we are down. The author uses a verse from Psalms (41:2), as a jumping off point, using it to explain our verse at hand.
אשרי משכיל אל דל, ביום רעה ימלטהו ה'
Happy is the one who is wise towards the poor/unfortunate, for God will rescue him or her on the day of evil. As it often does, the midrash is making light of the odd wording in the verse. How would someone be wise towards the poor? And Why would God not rescue someone who simply gives to those in need?
A number of rabbis are quoted, each mentioning a personality trait or action through which they are being wise towards those in need. Among the answers are: allowing one's positive inclination (יצר הטוב) to overcome their negative inclination (יצר הרע), giving charity to the poor (litterally, handing a coin to the needy/beggar), one who helps in a burial when there is noboy else to take care of the provisions, and one who visits the sick. Although the answers were given by different indivduals, I believe the common thread lies in the fact that each of these actions takes a level of discernment in how to go about it, but also can have a profound effect on the lives of others.
The themes of Sh'mittah and the needy in our midst in Parshat Behar give us important reminders about prioritizing our busy lives, urging us to step back from the craziness of our daily routines, and consider actions, some easier than others, that can enhance the lives of others as well as our own. Through this lens, we can better appreciate the message imparted at the beginning of the second half of our Parasha, Bechukkotai (Lev. 26:11-12)

ונתתי משכני בתוככם, ולא תגעל נפשי אתכם. והתהלכתי בתוככם וְהָיִיתִי לָכֶם, לֵאלֹהִים; וְאַתֶּם, תִּהְיוּ-לִי לְעָם.
I will cause my presence to dwell among you, and my soul will not despise you. And I will walk among you in your midst; I will be for you a God, and you will be my people.

When we are concious of how we spend our time and act towards others, it is possible to create a society in which God's presence is brought into our midst. This is my hope and prayer at this time of transition for so many. May it be an עת רצון, a time of favor before God and humanity.

ונקדשתי בתוך בני ישראל - That I may be sanctified within the people of Israel - Emor 5769

2009-05-07T18:00:00.005-04:00

Shabbat Shalom. You may notice that my divrei Torah have been somewhat sporadic this semester. While I hate making excuses, some of my distractions have been taking six classes, three at Columbia University (Music Humanities, Planet Earth (geology), History of World Migration), and three at the Jewish Theological Seminary (Bekiut Talmud (a fast-paced study of tractate Bava Batra), Midrash Vayikra Rabbah, and Classical Piyyut (liturgical poetry)). I have also been working as a Mashgiach at JTS, computerizing divorce records for the Bet Din of the Rabbinical Assembly, and serving as the Religious Life Coordinator on the Executive Board of Columbia/Barnard Hillel.
Although I have not completely finished my semester, I was moved to share some words of Torah based on a tragedy in the greater Jewish community which I was made aware of yesterday.
This week's Parasha of Emor covers many important topics, a fascinating ideathe idea of considering that many automatically assume that the book of Vayikra/Leviticus is 'boring,' and only deals with sacrifices. As was proven to me yet again while studying the midrashic collection Vayikra Rabbah, almost any lesson from the gamut of Judaism and the range of human experience.
The first large tract of the parasha is concerned with priestly regulations, but does so in the spirit of the oft-quoted maxim from Spiderman,'with great power comes great responsibility.' As the Kohanim are charged with fulfilling some of the holiest rituals and occupy a position of closeness to God, they are bound by special rules restricting whom they can marry, and a requirement to remain in ritual purity. While these laws may seem foreign and strange, there is a special meaning behind the idea of being set aside, part of the essence of holiness according to many traditional commentators.
The next major theme of Emor, occupying all of chapter 23, is the cycle of Shabbat and holidays, described thus: אלה מועדי ה' מקראי קדש אשר תקראו אתם במועדם (Leviticus 23:4) - these are the appointed times of God, holy assemblies, that you shall proclaim at their appointed time. In a fascinating rabbinic interpretation, God is announcing that the biblical holidays, commanded by divine decree, would not be observed on the day he decides, but based on the new moon declared by the Sanhedrin (supreme court) in Jerusalem. This reflects part of my philosophy when I observe mitzvot. While I do see observing these clommandments as fulfilling divine commandments, they are not without meaning, or even joy, for us in our daily lives.

Sandwiched between the priestly regulations and holidays announcements are a series of short laws (22:26ff) which begin the Torah portion read of the first two days of Sukkot and the second day of Pesach. An animal consecrated to God may not be slaughtered in the first seven days of its life, but only on the eighth day. A thanksgiving offering must be given of free-will, and can only be eaten on the day it is sacrified. In the next verses (31-32), we are told:

וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם, מִצְו‍ֹתַי, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם, אֹתָם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה.
לב וְלֹא תְחַלְּלוּ, אֶת-שֵׁם קָדְשִׁי, וְנִקְדַּשְׁתִּי, בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל: אֲנִי יְהוָה, מְקַדִּשְׁכֶם.
And you shall keep my commandments, and do them, I am your God. And you shall not profane My holy name, but I shall be sanctified in the midst of the people of Israel, I am God who sanctifies you.

Just yesterday I was informed of a terrible accidental fire which struck a Conservative shul, Chisuk Emuna, in Harrisburg, PA. After a Shabbat dinner at the synagogue on April 3, 2009, the building caught fire, and the main sanctuary and much of the rest of the building was gutted, and some of the sifrei torah were damaged. Although God cannot be contained in a building, the sacred space of a synagogue in which a community gathers to sanctify God's name is the closest thing we have to a home for God and a focal point for the community as well. Therefore, it was distressing to hear and see pictures of the damage that was created to the structure which served as a place for this congregation to worship, celebrate, learn and mourn for decades. I encourage you to view the moving video on the blog documenting their resiliance and rebuilding: http://chisukemuna.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-post_23.html . Through this video and the messages posted by their rabbi, Ron Muroff (an alum of Nativ 1!), I can tell that a warm and caring community was centered around the building that was damaged, but that community has not lost its light and strength.
Chisuk Emuna's response to the loss of their spiritual home has also been an inspirational example of sanctifying God's name. They did not miss one shabbat service or session of their religious school, and have already begun the process of rebuilding the shul. Even if I didn't have some friends from Harrisburg, a tragedy such as this affects the entire Jewish people. The Robert K. Kraft Center for Jewish Life of Columbia/Barnard Hillel, in which I am writing these words of Torah serves as a place of study, worship, and a social and communal center for hundreds of Jewish students on our campus. Because this building means so much to me, I can imagine what such a loss would be to our community.
While a community is not based on bricks and mortar, a building such as these is a focal point and holds sacred memories for those who enter its doors. Thus, I can easily imagine the pain that members of Chisuk Emuna felt at the damage to their sanctuary, and my prayers for a speedy and joyous rebuilding go to them as part of the family of אחינו כל בית ישראל, our brethren of the house of Israel. I hope that you will join with me and keep Chisuk Emuna in your thoughts, as well as render any possible assistance. May we also be inspired by their dedication to each other, Judaism, and sanctifying God's name as commanded in this week's parasha, to stregthen our own commitments to Jewish life and those around us.
Then, we will be strengthened as God's name will again be sanctified as the Jewish people come together to take care of part of our own family, for all of Israel is responsible for one another.

Shabbat Shalom!

Better Late than never - Seminary Shabbat 5769 - Parshat Terumah

2009-03-07T18:34:00.003-05:00

Although I meant to post this d'var Torah a few months ago, I don't think it's too late to share these words. In February, I had the honor to travel to Hillcrest Jewish Center in Queens for a Seminary Shabbat. On that week, students like me from all of the five schools at JTS traveled to Conservative synagofues across North America to teach, participate in services, and meet community members. The following is a d'var torah which I shared from the bimah at Hillcrest that Shabbat morning:

D’var Torah – Seminary Shabbat, Hillcrest Jewish Center

Shabbat Shalom! My name is Gabriel Seed, and I am a second year student in, the joint program between, List College, the undergraduate school of the Jewish Theological Seminary and Columbia University. As someone who grew up in the institutions of the Conservative movement, including Ramah and USY, it is an honor to be at a shul which is so strongly connected to the movement.

Before I share some words of Torah on this week’s Parshah of Terumah, I’d like to say a few words about myself and the background that brought me to choose JTS and Columbia. I grew up in a traditional Conservative household, and lived in a number of different communities, including Milwaukee, Cleveland, Philadelphia and Toronto, attending Jewish day schools throughout. During my high school years, I was very active in USY, participating in the USY on Wheels bus trip across the United States and Eastern Europe/Israel pilgrimage, as well as serving as the Religion/Education vice president for the Eastern Canadian region.

After graduating, I had one of the most amazing years of my life as a participant in Nativ, the Conservative movement’s pre-College year in Israel, where I spent a semester studying at the Conservative Yeshiva and the second semester working in the fields of Kibbutz En Zurim.

After so many important Jewish experiences during my childhood and adolescence, I was seeking a college where I could engage in critical Jewish learning without sacrificing a strong and serious secular education. Since arriving at JTS and Columbia, I have been able to expand my Jewish and secular learning, while at the same time finding a dynamic and supportive community outside the classroom.

This week’s Parasha, Terumah, comes immediately after the revelation at Sinai in Parashat Yitro and the giving of additional laws in last week in Mishpatim. It contains the architectural plans for the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that would accompany the Children of Israel on their journey through the desert.

Preceding the detailed instructions for the building of the 7-branched menorah, the shulchan to hold the showbread, and the other structures of Mishkan, we are given God’s explanation why we are constructing these objects and enclosures. The core verse of this section is striking in both its simplicity and profound meaning:

ועשו לי מקדש, ושכנתי בתוכם

And you shall build me a tabernacle, so that I may dwell within it.

The idea of God dwelling among the people through their worship and gathering in God’s honor is one that did not end after the period of the Mishkan, or even after the destruction of the First and Second Temples. It continued throughout rabbinic literature and in Jewish thought until today. While a personal connection to God is important and even essential, a relationship to God is incomplete unless lived in a community of prayer, learning and caring.

This semester, I have had the pleasure of taking a Talmud course with Dr. David Kraemer, the librarian of JTS, and wonderful professor and person. We are studying the tractate Bava Kamma using a method called Bekiut, in which we cover a large number of pages of text during the semester. The topic of this particular chapter is property law, and the main discussion so far has been the obligations of those who share courtyards or property boundaries, in how to be good and fair neighbors.

In spite of this detailed legal topic, it is fascinating to read the Midrashim interspersed with this very mundane legal material. Many of these deal directly with the Mishkan, the Temple, as well as the synagogues and houses of study which have served as such essential focal points for the Jewish community, from the times of the rabbis until the present. At one point, the discussion jumps from describing the materials used in a wall dividing the courtyard, to a fascinating discussion of renovating and rebuilding synagogues, and the different issues involved therein. The rabbis bring up issues that are deeply relevant to us today as involved members of the Jewish community- concerns over fundraising and ensuring that there is always a place for the community to pray in. Shortly thereafter, we find a discussion on the obligation of partners to share in building a doorway for a courtyard and residents to subsidize a wall for a city. This topics leads into to the beautiful interpretation of a verse from song of songs. “I am a wall and my breasts are as towers” Rava interpreted : ‘a wall’ – this is the house of Israel, and ‘towers’ – these are the synagogues and study houses of the Jewish people.

Not only does Rava’s interpretation shows the centrality of the synagogue and Jewish learning in Jewish life, both in 4^th century Babylonia and 21^st century America. It also illustrates the mission of the five schools of JTS, and especially my study in the joint undergraduate program with Columbia University, in which I will earn a Bachelors in Talmud from the Seminary and a Bachelors in history from Columbia. Just as some of the most meaningful rabbinic sayings about Jewish living and ritual come in the midst of a mundane discussion of fences and doorposts, I am also extremely fortunate to combine the highest quality Jewish and secular educations with unparalleled opportunities to become involved in the larger community.

Over the past two years, I have had the privilege to take courses at JTS which span the gamut of the Jewish literary, legal, historical and religious experience. From studying Jewish law with Rabbi Joel Roth, a former dean of the JTS rabbinical school and past chair of the Conservative movement’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards, Classical liturgical poetry with the renowned Ray Scheindlin as well as American history with Columbia’s provost, Alan Brinkley, my educational experience so far has been just as eclectic as is the discussion of the Talmudic rabbis.

Reinforcing the concern of our tradition for the community, I have also been privileged to have a variety of unique experiences outside the classroom. In addition to my involvement at JTS, such as working in the library, IT department, and as a mashgiach, a supervisor of Kashrut, in the Seminary cafeteria, one of my most rewarding experiences so far has been my involvement in Columbia/Barnard Hillel. I have been involved in a number of areas within Hillel, including Koach, the Conservative community on campus. This semester, I began serving as religious life coordinator on the Hillel executive board. In this position, I have had the opportunity to work with religious groups across the Jewish spectrum, help plan for the future of Hillel, and even represent the organization within the larger Columbia community, such as at a joint bible study held last week with one of the campus Christian groups.

I believe that this rabbinic world view embodied in the structure of Bava Batra is a wonderful paradigm for how we can live our lives today, engaging in the larger community and all it has to offer, while keeping institutions like JTS and our synagogues at the core of our beings. In these troubling times, Jewish learning and living can provide us with a way to give meaning and purpose to our lives through these timeless ideas that can speak to our moments of both joy and tragedy.

וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם, מִצְו‍ֹתַי, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם, אֹתָם: אֲנִי, יְהוָה.
לב וְלֹא תְחַלְּלוּ, אֶת-שֵׁם קָדְשִׁי, וְנִקְדַּשְׁתִּי, בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל: אֲנִי יְהוָה, מְקַדִּשְׁכֶם.