Dvar Torah Parsha Beshallach 5783

Shemot 13:17-17:16

The multitudes that are Israel are leaving Mitzrayim (Egypt) at last. Hashem does not have them take the shortest route, for there were a series of fortifications and confronting prolonged armed resistance might discourage the people. Rashi suggests it was so close, the conflict with the Philistines might lead the people to return to Egypt. Also though, the longer journey would allow the people who had only known slavery their whole lives time to grow into becoming an independent self-sufficient people.

Their route took them to the Reed Sea. Many call it the Red Sea, but it was called the Reed Sea, known for the reeds growing in it. The Red Sea is too salty for those reeds, so it was likely one of the lagoons near the Mediterranean in Northern Egypt. Moshe brought the bones of Yosef as promised earlier. They were led by a pillar of fire at night, and a cloud by day.

Pharoah decides to pursue them with his army. The people see them coming and cry out to Moshe. Moshe assures the people, then Hashem causes a great darkness which keeps them apart. Then Moshe raises his staff, and a great East wind causes the sea to separate. The people cross the Reed Sea. The Egyptians pursue, but their chariots get stuck in the muck. Moshe raises his hand, the wind stopped, and the waters returned. The Egyptians try to escape but Hashem throws them back and they drowned.

A few thoughts come to mind. Was the parting of the sea purely a miracle or was it a miracle born of natural causes. In a piece written by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, he quotes Cambridge University physicist in his The Miracles of Exodus:

Wind tides are well known to oceanographers. For example, a strong wind blowing along Lake Erie, one of the Great Lakes, has produced water elevation differences of as much as sixteen feet between Toledo, Ohio, on the west, and Buffalo, New York, on the east...There are reports that Napoleon was almost killed by a “sudden high tide” while he was crossing shallow water near the head of the Gulf of Suez.

Also, one tradition has it in BT Meg. 10B that the angels wanted to sing during the destruction of the Egyptians, but Hashem asked how they could sing during the destruction of his people.

Seeing this miracle, the people believe and acknowledge Moshe as their leader. They begin to sing the Song of the Sea, still sung during Shabbat services to this day. Miriam the prophetess and sister of Aharon (Aaron) instructs the women to produce their timbrels and they sang and danced.

Why is she called a prophetess? Rabbi David Stav offers these reasons. It was she who approached her father Amram to reunite with his wife which would lead to the birth of Moshe. It was she who said this child would lead the entire Jewish people. It was she who convinced the women to bring gear on the journey to express great joy in the face of miracles, hence the timbrels.

Something else happened at the closing of the Reed Sea. Now there was no return possible. They became a unified people, the Ivri. Yes, the people would complain, but there was no talk of going back. As they journey, there is the miracle of making bitter water drinkable at Marah, the gathering of manna and quail, then water again at Horeb.

It is what happens next that I want to expand upon. Amalek musters their people to attack the people Israel. Their purpose was not to gain land nor were they a threat. Rather they solely wanted to take advantage of their weakened state. Joshua was sent to muster men to fight while Moshe, Aharon, and Hur watch from atop a hill. During the battle, when Moshe holds his hand up with the rod of Hashem in his hand, the Israelites do well. So, Aharon and Hur get him a stone upon which to sit and they help hold his hand aloft and as a result, Joshua prevails against all odds. Hashem has Moshe create a document that says Hashem will erase the name of Amalek through all generations. I might mention this was the first mention in Torah of writing. They built an alter named Adonai-Nissi which Moshe said meant “Hand upon the throne of the Lord. The Lord will be at war with Amalek through the ages.”

So, what leaps out at me as I read this was the singling out of Hashem’s wrath. Even as the Egyptians were drowning in the Reed Sea, he prohibits the angels from singing. These were Hashem’s creations after all. Later in Deuteronomy Hashem tells the Israelites not to abhor the Egyptian for we were once strangers in their land. Hashem though later in Deuteronomy 25:17-19 says regarding the Amelekites:

“Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God... You shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in his essay The Face of Evil drives home several ideas as to why this difference. He suggests liberal democracies are oriented towards the notion of the rational actor, one who looks at actions according to what would be the best solution. That for every conflict a resolution. In such a world there are no enemies, for every conflict there is a resolution. Per Ed Harris in his book Civilization and Its Enemies, he says we have forgotten the concept of enemies. An enemy is willing to die to kill you. We forget this reality at our own peril.

Rabbi Sacks offers an interesting example. Montezuma, ruler of the Aztecs, when he met Cortez in 1520, assumed he was dealing with a rational actor, a civilized man from a civilized nation. That assumption cost him his life, and a year later there was no Aztec nation.

Other examples come to mind as well. Historically one can look to the crusades, where Jewish communities were attacked and killed. The Christian armies saw them as not Christian and therefore the enemy. Later in history, Hitler knowing they were losing the war, pulled resources from the front lines to hasten the Final Solution. Americans need only look to the terror attack of 9-11. Why did they do it? Because we were the enemy.

Back to Rabbi Sacks, where he quotes from the Rabbis in Ethics of our Fathers: “If love depends on a specific cause, when the cause ends, so does the love. If love does not depend on a specific cause, then it never ends.” The same applies to hate. Egyptian hate had a cause, for the Israelites were becoming too numerous. The hate of the Amelekites had no cause, so it was endless. Amalek has become the metaphor for the causeless hate in this world, and it is that hate every generation going forward has had to combat.

As each of us live our daily lives, do we harbor any hate without cause? In a world filled with antisemitism, Islamophobia, racism, homophobia, misogyny, it certainly exists. Can we discern conflicts with cause and those who are in conflict not out of reason, but rather hate. In this time of rising mindless hate, where synagogues and mosques are attacked and individuals attacked on our streets, as we go to practice gemilut chesed and do our mitzvot, we must also recognize evil for what it is, and be prepared to fight it. It is our calling ever since the defeat that day of the Amalekites so very long ago. Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Bo 5783

Shemot 10:1-13:16

In our parsha this week, Parsha Bo tells our story of the Passover, the time when Moshe leads the people out of the land of Mitzrayim (Egypt) towards the land promised by HaShem. The people who left Egypt were a diverse group. Tova Lebovic-Douglas in her article on Bo points out in Shemot 12:38 they were a mixed multitude. That is according to her the people Israel including converts of different nationalities and some Egyptians perhaps who wanted to leave the oppression of their native land. We are a diverse people, yet each of us carry a spark of the divine within. We see the humanity in each of us and from that comes compassion for each other. More on this later.

Back to the Parsha, Moshe teaches in 12:26-7, “And when your children ask you, ‘What do you mean by this rite?’ you shall say ‘It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, because he passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt, when he smote the Egyptians, but saved our houses.’” Two other times the instruction is repeated for the people Israel. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory points out how counterintuitive it is to look not to the day with all that was going on, but some point in the distant future. We teach the story around the Passover table, a chavruta of sorts in which the children are encouraged to ask questions as we tell this ancient story, making it our own, and as they grow, it becomes theirs as well. It is we who were in Egypt, escaping our own Mitzrayim, our narrow place.

It was a revolutionary act. Others built great buildings, pyramids, public arenas, tombs, but we built schools. We tell our stories, remember our history, and have survived even as one civilization after another has fallen. Our Passover festival has been the glue that held us together over centuries.

We tell the story and make it our own. We tell our stories and remember the history of our people. I confess as a writer, historian, and storyteller; I love this aspect of being Jewish. As we tell our stories, I can’t help but reflect on the last few years. A worldwide pandemic that has affected so many of us and yet in many cases, brought out the very best of us, through cards and meals. Of gathering to sit shiva, to mourn those who have passed and to comfort those who lost a loved one. I imagine what it must have been like for Moshe, to lead the people, twelve tribes, from the young to the very old. What of the very old, unable to walk much like me? And the children who could not keep up or not yet able to walk? Did they carry them over their shoulders or on makeshift carts? With only a leader, or a few pitching in, this journey was impossible. It was in community that our people survived. Each doing their part, lifting each other in this difficult journey. Those children in carts or on shoulders, did they go out with their parents to gather manna? I suspect that was how it was. Everyone had a role in looking out for everyone else.

As Jews, we teach that the world rests on three things: Torah, Avodah (prayer) and Gemilut Chesed or deeds of loving kindness. Reading from A Book of Life by Michael Strassfeld, to act in the way of the Lord according to Abraham, one acted with tzedakah u mishpat, that is justice and righteousness. So, we should not act just out of caring, but out of righteousness and justice. But…the word used was not tzedakah, but Gemilut chesed. Why, one might ask? Because, according to Strassfeld “gemilut chesed is an even holier way to act out of loving kindness, that is to go beyond what is required by justice. To act out of loving kindness is to identify with other people, to feel for them, to want to help them and ease their burden even if simple justice would not require it. To act out of loving kindness is to understand we are all lost in a broken world, yet together we can improve the journey of life. Gemilut chesed means to care even when it is not deserved. It also means to understand that we all need deeds of loving kindness to be done for us, not just the poor.”

There is no more powerful memory than Parsha Bo in Exodus. We are a communal people, a caring people. It is fundamental to who we are. In Pirke Avot 2:21, Rabbi Tarfon says, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world, but you are not free to desist from it either.” Working together, with us all doing our part, we can make a difference in people’s lives, including our own.

Am Israel chai. Shabbat Shalom!

Dvar Torah Parsha Vaera 5783

Dvar Torah Parsha Vaera 5783

Shemot 6:2-9:35

“There are three crowns, the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty. However, the crown of a good name is greater than all of them.” Rabbi Shimon… Pirket Avot 4:13

Vaera begins with Hashem calling out to Moshe, using the name that is not spoken out loud with Jews, the letters Yod Heh Vav He (Y-H-V-H), replaced by saying Hashem (The Name) or Adonai (Lord). Hashem goes on to say previously They were known as El Shaddai. More on this later. Again, Hashem calls out to Moshe to go to the people and tell the Israelites They will deliver them from bondage. Moshe says they won’t listen. But Hashem instructs Moshe to go and tell Pharoah to let Their people go.

What follows are the genealogies of the various clans (tribes) bringing us up to the time of Moshe.

Moshe and Aaron are told to tell Pharoah to let the people go. Hashem places Moshe to speak as Hashem and Aaron to be the role of prophet, i.e., spokesman because of Moshe’s speech impediment. They say Pharoah will say no, opening the path to a series of plagues to be visited upon Mitzrayim (Hebrew for a narrow place, Egypt.) Ten in total, divided into three groups of three, plus the final one on a far larger scale. The first two in each group have a warning, culminating in a third without warning. In this parsha we see the first 8 plagues: serpents, water to blood, frogs, lice, insects, Egyptian livestock die, boils, and hail. We name each during our annual Passover seders.

In the beginning of our parsha, we see Hashem speak the name Yod Hey Vav Hey. If you were to just open the Torah to Shemot, you would think this name had not been shared before. However, it appears often in Bereishit (Genesis). Midrash suggests Hashem has two attributes. Justice is represented by Elohim, mercy by Yod Hey Vav Hey. The term Hashem says They were known as was El Shaddai. Now according to a modern midrash per Etz Chaim commentary, the word is related to the Hebrew “Shadayim” which means breasts. Suggesting a rather maternal role played by Hashem nurturing the Patriarchs and Matriarchs as they became Their people. Interestingly, Cantor Martin Levson of URJ observes, the four letters Y-H-V-H is related to the future tense of the Hebrew verb “to be.”

Names mean something to the early Hebrews and still today. We saw Abram and Sarai take on the names Abraham and Sarah to mark their movement towards HaShem. A very imperfect Yaakov who stole his brother’s birthright, wrestles with the wrongs he has done his brother in the night with what may have been his guardian angel and is renamed Israel, the name of our people to this day, B’nei Yisrael. Israel, “he who struggled with Hashem and prevailed.”

Hashem goes by many names. Per Rabbi Abba bar Memel: “The Holy One said to Moses: Is it my name you want to know? I am called after my deeds. Sometimes I am called El Shaddai, Tzevaot, Elohim, Adonai. When I judge humanity, I am called Elohim. When I make war against the wicked, I am called Tzevaot and when I give man a suspended sentence for his sins, I am called El Shaddai; and when I have compassion on my world, I am called Adonai. (Shemot Rabba 3:6.)

Names today have meaning as well, and sometimes our names change according to our circumstance. I am a trans woman. When born, I was raised as a boy and called Roland, a name held by my father and my great grandfather. With my dysphoria, the name was an uncomfortable reality, but one that I lived, nonetheless. When I transitioned, in my new role in life I became Jessica Rolanda. Jessica was a name to which I aspired, named after very strong women who held that name, and Rolanda as a vestige of my past reality, a memorial to that child who struggled in the search to find their true self. But then I converted to Judaism and of course took on a Jewish name, Yiskah Rachel. Yiskah was related to Abraham, noted for the simple fact that her name appears at all. Her name suggests she may have been a prophet with a story of her own, long lost to time. It also is the Hebrew version of Jessica. For a middle name, I chose my mother’s name Rachel of blessed memory.

In each case, the names respect roles I play in society, and transformations in who I am over the course of time. We all have our own stories, our own transformations, names by which we are known, as proper names or as descriptions of who we are. In our life journeys we may pick up names such as reliable, hardworking, loving or perhaps one not so kind like untrustworthy, violent. Reading this, what might be the names attached to you? I began with a quote. Let me rephrase a portion of it to conclude: However, the crown of a good name is greater than all of them.” Rabbi Shimon… Pirket Avot 4:13

Dvar Torah Parsha Shemot 5783

Shemot 1:1-6:1

In our Parsha named Shemot we begin the book of Shemot (Exodus). In the Hebrew Bible we use the first important word in each parsha to name that parsha, and the name of the first Parsha becomes the name of that book. A new Pharoah is in power and he either forgets or ignores the good Yosef did for their country. The people Israel have multiplied and prospered in Goshen and Pharoah is concerned. The Hebrews are enslaved, forced to make bricks. Still the people are so numerous that Pharoah instructs the Hebrew midwives, Shifra and Puah, to kill all boys born to Hebrew women. They however do not, telling Pharoah that the Hebrew women are delivering their babies before they can get there. Pharoah then commands all baby Hebrews be thrown into the river. One Hebrew couple from the house of Levi have a baby boy and hide him for three months. Then they weave a basket and place him in it, placing the basket and the child into a Nile tributary where his sister watches to see what becomes of him. Pharoah’s daughter comes to the river to bathe and finds the boy among the reeds. She is touched seeing this baby, then realizing he must be one of the Hebrew babies. The baby’s sister approaches Pharoah’s daughter and asks if she would like for her to fetch a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby. She says yes and she brings the baby’s mom to nurse the child. After three months, the mother brings the baby to Pharoah’s daughter, and she names the child Moshe (Moses.)

Moshe grows up, sees the mistreatment of the Hebrews. He intervenes and kills an Egyptian overseer. Pharoah hears about it and Moshe flees to Midian. He waters the sheep for the daughters of the priest of Midian, Yithro and later marries a daughter, Zipporah. They have a son Gershom, named for the fact he was a stranger in a foreign land. This Pharoah dies, but the Hebrews remain enslaved. Moshe is out tending the sheep for Yithro when he sees a burning bush, but the bush is not consumed. Hashem speaks to Moshe. Moshe removes his shoes and lies face down so as not to gaze on the face of Hashem. Moshe is told to return to Pharoah and tell him to let his people go. Moshe is reluctant. Hashem demonstrates ways to convince Pharoah, like staff turning to snake, making the water turn to blood etc. Moshe is still reluctant until he learns Aaron will speak for him. It’s pretty clear Moshe had a speech defect, So, he goes back. Pharoah of course says no and makes the life harder for the Hebrews. The people come to Moshe complaining, but Hashem explains now they will see the power of Hashem.

As I reviewed this parsha, and a host of commentaries, one recurrent theme occurred to me. We see ordinary people like most of us, who when the time comes, take heroic action. First look at Shifra and Puah. Two midwives, and we do not know if they were Egyptian or Hebrew. But when Pharoah ordered them to kill baby boys, they instead disobeyed the order. Their moral compass told them this was wrong.

In my studies of the Shoah, we know that many go along with unspeakable acts, but there are some quite ordinary people who provided hiding places for the Jews, protecting them from unspeakable horrors. Our heroines, Shifra and Puah chose to do the right thing at real danger to their own lives. When confronted by Pharoah, they simply said the Hebrew women were vigorous, delivering the babies before the two could get there. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory offered in a talk on Shifra and Puah that “Often the mark of real moral heroes is that they do not see themselves as moral heroes.” They simply do what they do because it’s the right thing to do. He goes on and points to this as the first recorded incidence of civil disobedience, and it became the tool of Ghandi and was enshrined in law at the Nuremberg trials of Nazi war criminals who complained they were only following orders.

But these were not the only moral sheroes in our parsha. What about the Egyptian princess, daughter of Pharoah? First, she goes down to the river and mingles with the ordinary folks. There is of course rabbinical discussion of the entire idea of going “down” to the river. Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Shimon offers that the reason for the descent was to cleanse herself from the idolatry of her father. (Babylonian Talmud Sota 12B). While she is there, she sees a basket in the reeds, and discovers the baby within. She is touched first with pity, then the realization this must be a Hebrew baby. She is aware of the edict by her father, and failure to honor that edict puts her in danger. Plus, she is there with her servant and gossip was rampant in the court. Then the baby’s sister asks her (think of that, speaking to a royal but just as one person to another) if she should get a Hebrew mother to nurse the child and Pharoah’s sister says yes. The child then goes to the actual mother of the baby who nurses the child for three months, then brings the baby to the princess who takes the child as her own, naming him Moshe. So not only was there a moment of compassion at the river, but she takes on the task of adopting the child and raising him as her own.

In both cases, people took actions that brought great risk to their own lives, driven by their moral compass rather than the edicts of a tyrant. I cannot help but reflect on our own time. We are moving into an era of uncertainty, with a rise of the extreme right, fed by bizarre conspiracy theories, and calls for Christian nationalism and fascist ideologies. We as Jews are witnessing a rise in hate crimes and antisemitic acts. Also, common targets are immigrants, LGBTQIA folks, Muslims, and Orientals. Plus, a handful of radicals in Congress poised to let our debt default if they don’t get their way. Time and again I’m hearing statements comparing now to the time just before our Civil War back in the 1860’s. Do we, will we show that moral compass demonstrated by Shifra and Puah, or the daughter of Pharoah? Can we see that spark of Hashem within each, and govern our actions by our moral compass rather than submit to the hate perpetrated by those seeking raw power? I know this. Torah offers us in this parsha guideposts for the present and future. May we all be well and safe. Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Vayechi 5783

Bereishit 37:28-50:26

With Parsha Vayechi, we end the book of Bereishit (Genesis.) Yaakov (Jacob) is ending his time on earth. He calls his son Yosef (Joseph) and meets Yosef’s sons Ephraim and Menashe. In keeping with past blessings, it is not the eldest who gets the greater blessing. Contrary to past tradition, it is the first-time grandchildren are blest by a patriarch. He then offers blessings to all his children, with Simeon and Levi not faring so well, and with Judah and Yosef winning the blessings sweepstakes. You can feel the familial tension in this moment. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory notes that it was remarkable in this time for him to even be able to gather all his sons together, and in the first chapter of Shemot (Exodus), for the first time the Israelites are described as a people. It’s clear here, that family trumps everything. Yaakov dies and Yosef ensures he is returned with Pharoah’s permission to Hebron for burial.

After the death of Yaakov, the brothers fear Yosef will exact revenge for selling him into slavery. They reach out to him with a white lie of sorts saying Yaakov had said he had hoped they would forgive the brothers before he died. Anyway, he assured them they had nothing to fear, and he would sustain them going forward.

Some years later, Yosef is about to die, and he asks all his brothers to ensure that when the time came to return his bones to Hebron when they finally left Egypt. He is embalmed and buried.

One thing I love most about the Tanach (Hebrew Bible) has to do with how real, how human the characters are. We began Bereishit in the first parsha with fratricide, later the binding of Isaac, the struggles between Yaakov and Esav, and here the day-to-day interactions of brothers, together at their father’s deathbed, and later emerging as a people.

Reading the blessings by Yaakov, I thought back to my own experiences growing up. Early in life, my grandfather on my mother’s side passing in his rural Arkansas home, his body stretched out on the kitchen table, and we all gathered around to hear stories about him. Later, my grandpa on Dad’s side, dying of brain cancer. Each of his many sons and daughters went in once at a time, where he would share his carefully thought-out message. Then each of us grandkids did the same.

I was raised that family was everything. Unfortunately, my gender transition proved to be a deal breaker for many. Fortunately, a few have been returning into my life. I’m thrilled that my brother and I are speaking again. I pray for the day my daughter will as well. Perhaps this is why I love the stories of Bereishit. They are stories I can relate to, characters living the very brokenness that surrounds me. Imperfect, messy, these are my people!

Conflict is messy, and reconciliation is too often too little and incomplete. The brothers did a terrible thing in selling their brother into slavery, but their apology was not out of remorse, rather out of fear. First the fake story about their father, but also the request in third person. Yosef understood this I think, and while he assures them that they are forgiven and that it happened according to Hashem’s plan, he also lets them know it is he who is responsible for sustaining them. Despite the imperfection, they remained together, a people, the people of the Book.

With the families of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs, family politics are a messy matter. Bereishit (Genesis) was all about learning to get together as a family and becoming a people. Once learning how to do that, we can move to Exodus and our birth as a nation. Again, from Rabbi Sacks, “I believe that family is the birthplace of freedom. Caring for one another, we learn to care for the common good.” I would add, it’s imperfect and messy, but this is real life, not a Hallmark romance. We learn from those who went before us, how to care for each other, how to do teshuvah (forgiveness). In caring for each other, we move towards that better world.

My prayer for you and me. May any rifts in family be healed and hearts open to others. The work is not easy, but may we have the strength to engage. Shabbat Shalom!