2nd Day Shavuot - 7 Sivan 5769
May 29, 2009 by karyn
2nd Day Shavuot
Exodus 19:14 – 20:14 and Deuteronomy 16:9 –12
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 522 – 554 and 1449 –1450;
Revised Edition, pages 475 – 479 and 1274
Haftarah for Shavuot
Isaiah 42:1 – 12
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 1673 – 674;
Revised Edition, pages 1478 – 1479
Saturday 30 May 2009, Sivan 7 5769
Rabbi Fred Morgan, Senior Rabbi, Temple Beth Israel, St Kilda, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
Shavuot, z’man matan Torateinu, “the season of the giving of our Torah”, focuses our attention on the core document that defines us as a people. The Torah contains mitzvot, divine obligations. These obligations guide us in translating the religious values embedded in the narrative of our people into patterns of behaviour that sanctify the way we live our lives from day to day.
The translation of the mitzvot into guidelines for everyday living is made possible by a process that goes under the Hebrew name of halakhah. Halakhah is a legal process; it consists of rules, permissions and prohibitions that permeate into every nook and cranny of our lives, from the food we eat and the way we dress to the manner in which we conduct business or speak to other people. We might go so far to define being Jewish as engaging with halakhah.
We may not see our Jewish life in these terms, but we all respond to halakhah whenever we consciously live our lives as Jews. The Jew who lights two candles for Shabbat, gives donations to support Israel or attends a funeral is on some level responding to halakhah, since each of these actions falls within the halakhic process. Questions such as how we light the Shabbat candles and why we light two of them; why we support Israel and what it means for us to make charitable donations; why we attend a funeral and how we comport ourselves as mourners, are all questions of halakhah. As Progressive Jews, we may interpret halakhah differently – more broadly, more flexibly, with greater scope for personal autonomy – than some other Jews. But we still live as Jews within an halakhic framework. In reality, it’s almost impossible for modern Jews to think of Judaism in any other way (though there have been other ways to conceive of Judaism in the distant past). Even for very secular Jews, the Judaism they de-sanctify is halakhic Judaism.
The festival of Shavuot celebrates not only the giving of the Torah on Mt Sinai. It also celebrates the survival of Torah down the centuries through the mechanism of what our tradition calls “Oral Torah”. “Oral Torah” is nothing more than the unfolding of the halakhic process. What is fascinating is the way that the halakhic process works – how we move from the mitzvot of the ancient text of Torah to the specific requirements of life in the 21st century.
The second day of Shavuot (which falls on Shabbat this year) is an excellent example of this process. The original text of Torah (called the “Written Torah”) does not require us to keep two days of festivals. This legal requirement came about because of an historical reality and the pragmatics of communication. The historical reality was the spread of the Jewish community far beyond the borders of ancient Judea and into the Diaspora. The pragmatics of communication meant that messages about the calendar and particularly the beginning of the month (determined by testimony in Jerusalem regarding the appearance of the new moon) could not reach the far-flung Diaspora communities in time for them to be certain that they were marking the Jewish holy days on the same date as the Jewish people in Judea. Had modern means of communication – telephone, emails, SMS, Facebook – existed in ancient Judea, the halakhah would undoubtedly have developed differently, and a single day for festivals would have been sufficient.
Second days of festivals thus became part of Oral Torah, the unfolding of the halakhah. But the halakhic process is an ongoing process. There are many reasons why many Jews today may not observe a second day for festivals, not least in order to bring Diaspora practice into line with practice in the land of Israel, where a second day of Yomtov was never required. By reflecting on traditions like the second day of Shavuot and making conscious decisions about their observance, we engage with Torah just as Shavuot bids us to do. We show honour to Shavuot by taking halakhah seriously and keeping the halakhic process alive in our own choices.
Chag sameach – I wish you a joyful, insightful and calorific Shavuot!
Bamidbar - 23 May 2009, 29 Iyar 5769
May 22, 2009 by karyn
Bamidbar
Numbers 1:1 – 4:20
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 1028 - 1043
Revised Edition, pages 899 – 911
Haftarah Bamidbar
Hosea 2:1 – 22
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 1252 – 1255
Revised Edition, pages 917 – 920
Saturday 23 May 2009, Shabbat Iyar 29 5769
From Rabbi Jacqueline Ninio, Emanuel Synagogue, Woollahra, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
This Shabbat we begin the book of Bamidbar which opens with Moses taking a census of the people of Israel. When we think of a census we often consider it to be a dehumanising act reducing those counted to a number, a statistic, one of the same amongst many. But traditional commentators, looking at this parasha, have interpreted the census in exactly the opposite way. First they note the unusual wording with which the act of counting is described. The word used for the counting literally means “lifting the head.” They suggest that when the Israelites were counted each one raised their head and looked the one counting, in the eye. Thus each person was seen, a connection was made, their individuality was acknowledged. Rather than a mass of humanity, eyes downcast, looking the same, the Israelites looked up, proudly ready to be counted amongst their people. At the beginning of the book of Numbers you can almost feel the euphoria and sense of community amongst the people. They are about to travel on a short journey to reach the Promised Land, to begin to build their future, basking in their new found freedom and relishing the responsibilities which accompany it. Here the counting is a way to show that each of them is a part of this new endeavour, that each one is committed to the vision of the future presented by Moses and God.
The commentators then go even further. There is a tradition which says there were 600,000 Israelites who were counted in the census and there are 600,000 letters in the Torah scroll; one letter for every Israelite. Just as every letter in the Torah is significant and important, so too is every single Israelite. Change a letter in the Torah, says the text, you change the entire Torah and it becomes something different. So too with the community of Israelites every one of them was needed and required for their individual qualities. Yet another commentary says that each of the 600,000 Israelites had their own interpretation of the Torah to bring into the world. That each one was the vessel for bringing a new understanding of the text and if we do not respect, value and nurture all of them we will lose an important part of the Torah. So the census, rather than reducing everyone to a number and a statistic, teaches us the value of looking one another in the eye, seeing the human being inside us all and nurturing the special qualities which make each of us unique.
Later in the parasha we read about the configuration of the Israelite camp. All the tribes encamped around the tabernacle facing inwards to a central point, to the place where the words of God were kept. The square shape protected the community as well as their most precious commodity; it reminded them always to keep its words and teachings in its midst, to strive towards their fulfilment. But the structure also served a second purpose, not only did it remind them to keep God’s laws as sacred but also the configuration meant that everyone always looked out for the other. Their eyes were ever turned inwards, looking from one to the other, seeing where help was needed, knowing what was really going on. There was privacy, the Talmud tells us that each family pitched their tent so they could not see into the tent of the other, but they were a community, looking out for each other, helping and assisting when needed. It was during the desert wanderings, moving in this configuration that the Israelites became a nation. They formed themselves into something more than a rabble of freed slaves without a purpose. They had a new purpose, looking out for one another, being there, being a community.
Bamidbar teaches us how to be a true community, how to behave towards one another and what we need to do in order to become holy. To become a strong whole we must value the unique and special qualities which are within every person. We must see beyond the numbers and look one another in the eye. Make connections. We can only do that when we have our tents facing one another, when we see when our neighbour is hurting and then do something to help, when we can reach out to offer a hand without waiting to be asked, when we notice what is happening for one another and support and care for those around us. That is what a community is and that is what a community does for one another. In these difficult economic times we need community more than ever before. We need support, love and to be seen for who we are, to be noticed, to be cared for. I hope that all of us can be that for one another, that we can continue to create welcoming, warm, loving environments for each other and for those we encounter in our lives.
Israeli High Court rules in favor of equality for Reform and Conservative Judaism (05/19/2009)
May 21, 2009 by nicola
JERUSALEM – On Tuesday, May 19, 2009, the Israeli High Court of Justice, in a ground-breaking case, awarded equal funding to Reform and Conservative Jewish conversion programs. The Israel Religious Action Center (IRAC), the legal advocacy arm of the Reform Movement in Israel, originally filed this petition in 2005 against the Immigration Absorption Ministry for discrimination and today the Supreme Court agreed.
To date, the State of Israel funds privately-run conversion centers alongside state centers; however, only Orthodox centers are recognized and therefore only Orthodox centers received state funding.
The State defended its position in court based on the fact that Reform and Conservative conversions are not recognized in Israel.
The Court noted that most converts in Israel immigrated by the Law of Return, but are not Jewish according to halacha, traditional Jewish law. They wish to convert in order to embrace their Jewish identity and to become more integrated into Israeli society, a goal achieved in conversion programs of all Jewish streams.
The Court called the State’s practice of favoring only one Jewish stream discriminatory and contradictory to the State’s responsibility of ensuring freedom of religion: “The duty of the State to pluralism is not only a passive duty, but an active one as well.” They also sited their previous ruling (Naamat and IRAC in 2002) that “Jews in Israel cannot be seen as only one religious sect.”
The verdict in this case calls for all private non-Orthodox conversion programs to be reimbursed retroactively for the years 2006-2009 and for all future funding to be given equally to conversion programs of all Jewish streams.
Attorney Einat Hurvitz, IRAC’s Legal Department Director, responded to the Court’s ruling: “Today’s verdict reaffirms the fundamental right to equality and religious freedom by ruling that the State may not discriminate between people based on their choice of Jewish stream. Today, the Court set a precedent, mandating State-funding for religious services of the Reform Movement and other non-Orthodox streams of Judaism. We hope that this clear message from the court leads to a change in government policy and puts an end to the exclusion of the Reform movement by the State.”
Taken from the IRAC website. Click here for the latest updates.
Behar-Bechukkotai - 16 May 2009, 22 Iyar 5769
May 15, 2009 by karyn
Behar-Bechukkotai
Leviticus 25:1 – 27:34
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 946 - 970
Revised Edition, pages 850 – 854 and 865 – 872
Haftarah Bechukkotai
Jeremiah 16:19 – 17:14
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 1006 – 1008
Revised Edition, pages 880 – 882
Saturday 16 May 2009, Shabbat Iyar 22 5769
From Rabbi Shoshana Kaminsky, Beit Shalom Progressive Synagogue, Stepney, Adelaide, South Australia
“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit. Your threshing shall overtake the vintage, and your vintage shall overtake the sowing; you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land.” (Leviticus 26:3-5)
Rain is a big deal in the Torah, and in the Tanakh in general. The presence of rain is always considered an indication of God’s favour, and its absence is taken as a sign of God’s displeasure. The fearful passages that follow this selection from Leviticus threaten withdrawal of rain as a curse from God: “I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper.” For the ancient inhabitants of the land of Israel, scratching out a living on soil that depended so desperately on the winter rains, such threats were terrifying indeed. What’s more, it’s crucial that the rain fall when it’s supposed to. Mishnah Ta’anit prescribes public fasting when the winter rains are delayed. Rain at Pesach is a sign of God’s curse, it says, particularly when rain has failed to fall earlier in the year. It is a cruel tease for farmers whose spindly crops are now washed away by rain at harvest time.
If the absence of rain is indication of curse, then its presence means blessing. The haftarah for this sedrah reinforces the idea of water as a sign of blessing and abundance. Jeremiah contrasts the person who trusts in human beings—“like a bush in the desert, who does not sense the coming of good”—with the one who trusts in God, who is “like a tree planted by the waters…It has no care in a year of drought, it does not cease to yield fruit.”
The midrashic treasury Me’am Lo’ez cites a charming tradition which brings a new level of spirituality to the idea of rain falling at the proper time. It is not enough indication of God’s love that rain should fall in the winter and stop in the late spring. “’I will grant your rains in their season’—this refers to Shabbat evening, when no one is out on the streets since it is forbidden to work and when no one needs to go outside. This is so that no one will be made miserable by the rain.” As a supreme sign of the connection between the people of Israel and God, God only makes it rain on Friday nights, when everyone is cosily sitting around the Shabbat dinner table!
We reach this parshah at the time of year when those of us in the southern states are most worried about the prospects for good rain. Will this be a good year for the farmers, or will we see another year of stunted yields, and even less water flowing into the parched Murray? Can we heal the connection between us and the earth, or have our own arrogant actions damaged it beyond repair? Will the land be blessed, or will it be cursed? And what can we do about it that we aren’t already doing?
The Shaliach is clearing his desk
May 14, 2009 by Steve
last article from Sharon Shteinbock
In accordance with the new technological and young trend of writing messages of 140 characters or less, I will try to keep my final address to you; short, precise and focused on what really matters. My hundred words start now:
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These were 118 words, let’s say a 100 + Chai. The family, Yael, Shallem and me, is wishing to see you all next year in Jerusalem or in our beloved Haifa.
Sharon Shteinbock, a Shaliach from Israel
A Taste of Netzer in South East Queensland
May 12, 2009 by Steve
34 people joined Temple Shalom Gold Coast, BPJC and Netzer for the full weekend and the group swelled to almost 50 people for the Saturday afternoon activities arranged to bring the Progressive congregations of South East Queensland ‘A Taste of Netzer’. It was especially good to see a wide cross section of our community enjoying the wide range of activities. There was a great atmosphere throughout the weekend that ensured a good experience was had by all. The camp raised $240 that will be donated to Nothing But Nets. To see photographs of the weekend just visit the website http://www.bpjc.org.au/atasteofnetzer.htm. The next camp is scheduled for the weekend 30th October to 2nd November.
Scott Leonard
Emor - 9 May 2009, 15 Iyar 5769
May 9, 2009 by karyn
Emor
Leviticus 21:1 – 34:35
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 912 - 938
Revised Edition, pages 819 – 830
Haftarah Emor
Ezekiel 44: 15 – 31
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pages 1001 – 1002
Revised Edition, pages 846 – 847
Saturday 9 May 2009, Shabbat Iyar 15, 5769
From Rabbi Stanton Zamek, The United Jewish Congregation of Hong Kong
In the midst of a set of sacrificial regulations in parashat Emor we find the following:
The LORD spoke to Moses, saying: When an ox or a sheep or a goat is born, it shall stay seven days with its mother, and from the eighth day on it shall be acceptable as an offering by fire to the LORD. However, no animal from the herd or from the flock shall be slaughtered on the same day with its young.
Our commentators are divided as to the purpose of this law of “the mother and her young”. Some see the rule as part of the body of regulations known as “tza’ar ba’alei chayyim” (the suffering of living things) that prohibits inflicting undue pain on animals.
Maimonides, in the Guide of the Perplexed, takes this position:
“It is likewise forbidden to slaughter “it and its young” on the same day, this being a precautionary measure in order to avoid slaughtering the young animal in front of its mother. For in these cases animals feel very great pain, there being no difference regarding this pain between man and the other animals. For the love and tenderness of a mother for her child is not consequent upon reason, but upon the activity of the imaginative faculty, which is found in most animals just as it is found in man.”
This understanding of the prohibition places the rule in the same category as such animal welfare halacha as not muzzling an ox while it is threshing (which prevents it from eating the grain as it works) and feeding one’s animals before feeding oneself. The laws of shechitah, kosher slaughter, are also aimed at ameliorating the suffering of animals, as the requirements are thought to ensure the quickest, least painful death possible.
Other commentators believe the focus of the prohibition against slaughtering mother and offspring on the same day is not the suffering of animals, but the character of human beings. Ramban argues that mercy toward the cow or sheep cannot be the reason for the law, for if this were so, we would not kill them for food under any circumstances. Instead, we do not heartlessly slaughter a cow and her calf on the same day so as not to become habituated to cruelty. “The reason for the restriction,” Ramban argues, “is to instill in us the quality of compassion.”
There is no need to choose between Maimonides and Ramban here. While slaughtering a calf and its mother on the same day may not rise to the level of cruelty as gratuitously abusing an animal or imposing a gruesome, prolonged death in the process of slaughtering it for food, it is consistent with the principle of tza’ar ba’alei chayyim to avoid the needless “emotional” distress Maimonides describes. Ramban is quite wrong that eating meat and mercy for animals are incompatible. The laws of kashrut are premised on balancing the right to eat meat that the Torah grants us against the suffering of the animals we raise for food.
A law, of course, can have more than one rationale. Ramban’s insight is also valuable. The character of the slaughterer matters as much as avoiding the undue suffering of the slaughtered. It is true, as Ramban says, that those charged with the unpleasant task of butchering animals could become generally hard and indifferent to suffering. With the Torah as a guide, however, even here it is possible to cultivate compassion and to shun callousness and cruelty.
In terms of the moral laws of the Torah, there is no such thing as a victimless crime. The perpetrator of a wrong always harms his or her own soul. Why not slaughter the cow and its calf together, won’t they both ultimately be slaughtered in any case? Why not insult the deaf? He cannot hear us and so cannot be offended or hurt. Such challenges would make sense if the Torah’s only purpose were to prevent us from inflicting clear, measurable harm to others. HaShem, however, has much higher aspirations for us than a life of “no harm, no foul.” The Torah points us to a much better, much holier place than this.
As we say of the Torah:
All her ways are pleasant, and all her paths are peace. [Prov. 3:17]
Judaism - religious or secular?
May 8, 2009 by Steve
Rabbi Dow Marmur
In classical Reform Judaism, to which I came from a secular background, a lot was said and written about the gap between Jewish peoplehood and the Jewish religion: liberal Jews were expected to be believers in a modernist version of the Jewish religion – striving for integration as Hebrews of the Jewish faith - whereas secular Jews were seen primarily as part of the Jewish people and thus alien to, say the American people, which even assimilation didn’t seem to overcome. That’s why, for example, liberal Jews often distanced themselves from Zionism, the liberation movement of the Jewish people.
Over the years I’ve witnessed a shift; in some small way perhaps I even participated in it. Though there were Reform Zionists – prominent men like Abba Hillel Silver, Stephen Wise and, of course, many others - there’s little to suggest that they tried to integrate the two into a coherent vision of Judaism. That has changed and now we even have a Reform Zionist organization.
I’ve been happy with this, for it combined my earlier life in a Yiddish speaking Zionist environment in the shadow of the Holocaust with my commitment to Reform Judaism. In fact, I was the founder chairman of the international organization of Progressive Jews (ARZENU).
*
My interest is ideological. I’ve often expressed ideas around the fact that the Hebrew Bible doesn’t have a word for “religion” and that the religious-secular divide has come to us under Christian influence. Emmanuel Levinas, one of the giants of modern philosophy in general and Jewish thought in particular, often cited the Talmudic dictum that God wants us to love the Torah more than to love God. The implication for Levinas, and with him for many of us, is that ethics comes before metaphysics; that doing isn’t just more important than believing but that doing is believing.
Of course, as my Reform teachers pointed out, doing can be abused into blind behaviorism and they cited telling examples. But we’ve also seen how believing can become blind fundamentalism. The challenge is not to look at the fringe but at the center.
I came to think about it last Wednesday evening when I attended a lecture at the Jerusalem Rainbow Group, reputedly the oldest Christian-Jewish dialogue group in Jerusalem and perhaps anywhere. The lecture was given by Professor Jesper Svartvik, the first holder of the chair in theology named after the late Krister Stendahl, former Dean of the Harvard Divinity School, former Bishop of Stockholm and one of the leading exponent of Lutheran Christianity in our time. The professorship is to be divided between the University of Lund in Sweden and the Swedish Theological Institute in Jerusalem. Svartvik is of the same ilk as Stendahl and the world will hear even more about him than it does already.
Svartvik’s topic was “The Notion of Sacred Space in Jewish and Christian Discourse.” Having first discussed the spaces of Sinai and Zion, his third “station” was Auschwitz. At Sinai Israel received the Torah, at Zion it got, in addition to the Torah, the Temple. What was there at Auschwitz?
It’s not my aim to summarize Svartvik’s brilliant address but to attempt an answer of my own in the light of the above reflections. Much of what I had written about in recent years about place and space became even more focused now.
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The answer that most contemporary Jewish thinkers offer is that God was silent at Auschwitz. They put it in different ways. Some allude to the biblical notion of God hiding the divine face, others speak of God withdrawing to make room for human action and the world and Auschwitz is a manifestation of human action gone wild and sinful. This is in sharp contrast to those who, in a lame and despicable effort to defend God, speak of divine punishment for Jewish sins (occasionally ultra-Orthodox fanatics even point to Zionism and Reform Judaism as the cause).
For me the most persuasive Jewish Holocaust theologians are those who say that God was silent at Auschwitz. The Temple had, of course, been destroyed long ago. But the Torah remained – even at Auschwitz.
Emil Fackenheim has even formulated a new commandment coming, as it were, from between the chimneys of the crematoria: the duty of every Jew to survive.
Irving Greenberg suggests that, though the old covenant between God and Israel appears to have been broken (a very daring and for some uncomfortable idea), Jews have nevertheless continued to abide by it. Torah has remained on the Jewish agenda and not only among the so-called religious. The covenant has now become voluntary and Jews continue to practice Judaism.
David Weiss Halivni implies that despite Auschwitz there’re valid reasons for waiting for God while doing Judaism. Faith may be in abeyance, but hope is alive.
And then there’s the story by Elie Wiesel about God being put on trial in the camp and found guilty. But then someone called, “Time to say the evening prayers.”
*
Israel is the product of Zionist celebration of Jewish peoplehood, often accompanied by a rejection of what was perceived to be religion, and greatly influenced by the reality and the memory of the Holocaust. Zionism can be interpreted to say that the distinction between religion and secularity in Judaism is false. Thus when I’m in Israel I’m not always sure what’s more “religious” – sitting in synagogue on Shabbat, as I do, or walking the streets of Jerusalem, whether or not on the way to shul.
There’re now secular yeshivot in Israel and some of them are even planning to “ordain” rabbis. Very little may be said about God in those circles, but there’s much talk, teaching, learning and practicing Torah. Though the concept may difficult to get used to, I can’t think of a more compelling illustration of a fusion of the secular and the religious.
I was thinking along those lines as I was listening to Jesper Svartvik’s talk in the Biblical Pontifical Institute in Jerusalem, only a few days before the visit by Pope Benedict XVI. It occurred to me that this view of Judaism may complicate interfaith dialogue, because dialogue tends to be based on religious doctrines and ideas, not on what some may wish to call anthropology. Though I’ve always known that Christian-Jewish relations are asymmetrical, I haven’t always been sufficiently aware of the implications of the asymmetry.
In biblical times they didn’t have a word for “religion.” Later Judaism was mainly concerned with Torah observance. Only when Jews encountered other religions did they have to construct their own theology. Perhaps Auschwitz has made Jews revert to earlier epochs in their history. Though we don’t want to return to the desert or rebuild the Temple, we may need to re-affirm Torah in whatever way we can.
Jerusalem 7.5.09 Dow Marmur
Moetzah
May 6, 2009 by Steve
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