Acharei Mot / Kedoshim - the Haftara
Amos 9:7-15
Reading date: 2nd May 2009 – 8th Iyyar 5769
Our Highlighted Haftara text
"The time is coming, says YHVH....when the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall overflow. I will restore the fortunes of My people Israel: They shall rebuild the desolate cities, and dwell in them; they shall plant vineyards, and drink their wine; make gardens and eat their fruit. I will plant them on their soil, never again to be uprooted from the soil that I have given them, says YHVH, your God." Amos 9:13-15
Planting is connecting something at its root.
Again this week we have a double portion, combining the parashiyot of Acharei Mot and Kedoshim. (When the portions are read separately, there are different traditions for which haftara is read. Some communities recite this week's haftara from Amos, others read portions from Ezekiel 22, and Ezekiel 20).
Amos' pronouncement provides an interesting counterpoint to the Torah portion. Kedoshim concludes with how Israel has been set apart from all the nations (Lev. 20:26) yet the haftara begins with Amos reminding Israel that YHVH is God of all humanity, and YHVH cares equally about the Ethiopians. YHVH also redeemed other nations. At the same time, Amos reinforces the message of Kedoshim "You shall faithfully observe all My laws...lest the land to which I bring you to settle in spew you out" (Lev. 20:22) that YHVH will judge all people. Right living seems to be a condition for dwelling in YHVH's Promised Land. The haftara concludes on a positive note with a vision of a brighter future.
Amos is the first of the 'literary' prophets. He lived and prophesied around 784-748 B.C.E. during the reign of King Jeroboam. Like Moses, Amos was a 'reluctant' prophet. That is, he described himself as a sheep breeder and tended sycamore figs and was called by YHVH to proclaim a message warning of Israel's destruction. He prophesied in the Northern Kingdom of Israel against the immoral practices that he saw. His message was the classic prophetic message: that rituals and religious piety do not have YHVH's approval when there is inequity between people and social injustice.
Both the Torah and haftara portions include the motif of planting. Our combined Torah portion includes many famous verses, including "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19:18) and my favorite, "You shall not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind" (Lev. 19:14). But among the miscellaneous collection of laws (everything from sexual morality to sacrifices) is a verse that describes the Israelites' connection to the land: When you come into the land and you plant every food-bearing tree... (Lev. 19:23). This imagery connects to the haftara's description of our return to Israel, planting vineyards and gardens.
Planting is connecting something at its root. Herzl understood that the precarious condition of Jews throughout history was because the Jewish people had been uprooted from their land. Many early Zionists believed that the health of the Jewish people depended on its reconnection with nature. The early Zionist thinker and writer, A.D. Gordon wrote: “We come to our Homeland in order to be planted in our natural soil from which we have been uprooted, to strike our roots deep into its life-giving substances, and to stretch out our branches in the sustaining and creating air and sunlight of the Homeland. Other peoples can manage to live in any fashion, in the homelands from which they have never been uprooted, but we must first learn to know the soil and ready it for our transplantation. We must study the climate in which we are to grow and produce. We, who have been torn away from nature, who have lost the savor of natural living - if we desire life, we must establish a new relationship with nature; we must open a new account with it.”
The early Zionists took A.D. Gordon's words to heart. Their slogan was: to build and be built. By literally building and planting, these chalutzim (pioneers) were involved in re-building the Jewish nation and Jewish life. Many of them were disconnected from traditional Jewish practice, and many were even secular and hostile to religion, yet many of them sensed a quasi-religious quality to their efforts. They were helping a new Jewish people to take root; transplanting an alienated folk in the soil of their own national life. Certainly the early religious Zionists believed that there was a mystical connection between the land and the people of Israel. This is why HaRav Kook, Israel's first Chief Rabbi, considered even the secular Zionists as partners in helping to bring the geula (redemption).
Since these days do not yet have a fixed liturgy or traditional ritual for planting, it is especially fitting to hear this week's haftara from Amos. The early Zionists were initially opposed by some religious groups who believed that we should wait for YHVH to restore the Jews to their land (and a small minority of extremists still holds this position). But Amos tells us that we must [first] rebuild the cities and the gardens of Israel, and then YHVH will 'plant Israel upon their soil. We plant our 'roots' in Israel, and we hope for the day when Amos' vision will come true, when Israel will "never again to be uprooted from the soil that I have given them."
Shabbat Shalom
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Parashat Tazria - Metzora - the Haftara
Tazria / Metzora - the Haftara
2Kings 7:3-20
Reading date: 25th April 2009 – 1st Iyyar 5769
Our Highlighted Haftara Text
Then [the four lepers] said to one another, "We are not doing right. This is a day of good news, and we are keeping silent! If we wait until the light of morning, we shall incur guilt. Come let us go and inform the king's palace."
II Kings 7:9
Turning and thinking about others and speaking out can bring redemption.
The combined portions of Tazria-Metzora this week are probably the least favorite Torah portion of the year for a Bar/Bat Mitzvah: skin inflammations (zits), menstruation and night time emissions. But, fortunately, the haftara for both portions, connected by the issue of 'leprosy', tell interesting stories from the cycle of legends that revolve around the prophet Elisha. The portion for Tazria tells the story of Elisha miraculously curing Naaman of leprosy (2 Kings 4:42-5:19). When the portions are combined, as they are this year, we read the haftarah for Metzora (2 Kings 7:30).
The common, older translation of tzara'at and metzora as 'leprosy' and 'leper' is misleading. The description of the biblical disease does not correspond to true leprosy (also known as Hansen's disease). Scholars are not sure what medical condition would produce the white skin described in the Bible. Fox avoids the issue in his (normally excellent) translation by simply transliterating tzara'at instead of translating it, and awkwardly renders the latter metzora as 'one-with-tzara'at').
King Ben-Hadad of Aram, allied with the southern kingdom of Judah was waging a war against Israel. There was a famine in the land, and food was scarce. Food prices were out of control (a small quantity of carob pods- normally easily available and hardly a sought after food, sold for five shekels) and even cannibalism was reported. Samaria, the capital of Israel is under siege; but then inexplicably, the Aramean siege ends abruptly, and the Arameans are discovered to have deserted their army camp- leaving their animals, food, and gold behind. Elisha's prediction that food would be so plentiful, prices would drop to near normal levels comes true.
The haftara begins at verse 3 (after the prologue of Elisha’s prediction) with four lepers /outcasts' outside the gate of the city during Aram's siege of Samaria. Because they are 'outside the gates' and will starve to death if they stay there, they decide to take their chances with defecting to the Aramean camp. Initially, on discovering it deserted, they plunder it, eating and drinking and burying the gold and silver. But the lepers realize that what they are doing is not right, and they return to the city and inform the king. Their report is validated, and the city is saved.
There is one aspect to our story that is noteworthy. The many characters of our story: from king, courtier, soldiers, gatekeeper, are all nameless. Just as a name identifies an individual's character, the anonymity in our story highlights the characters' identity and role. Each character plays an archetype. Adele Reinhartz in her wonderful volume, "Why Ask My Name?" suggests that:Focus on role designations, in turn, allows us to construct identity in the locus between the role designation and the character's narrative portrayal. In doing so, we compare the stereotypical behaviors associated with the role in biblical narrative and the particular ways in which the unnamed character fulfills or does not fulfill the role, or we look at the degree to which he or she stretches its limits or calls its very contours into question.
The text wants us to focus on the identity of the four individuals as lepers. The bearers of good news, the four nameless 'lepers' were outcasts. Like our world today, individuals 'on the edge' of society are not valued. Yet it was these lowest four on the social ladder who were the instruments of their nation's salvation. It was precisely their location 'outside the gates' that enabled them to set into motion a chain of events that saved the city. But how did they do it? At first, they only worried about themselves. Then, they had a change of heart. As social outcasts they could have easily justified the looting to themselves as they felt abandoned by society. But they don't. They speak out instead.
Rabbi Rochelle Robins (in The Women's Haftara Commentary ed. Rabbi Elyse Goldstein) suggests that if the four 'lepers' are suffering from 'speaking out,' it is interesting then, that it is again by 'speaking out' that releases these individuals from their fate. Robins of course is basing this on the rabbinic play on words that see metzora as a contraction for motzi shem ra, speaking slander or gossip. Leprosy, turning one's skin white is interpreted by the Rabbis as Divine punishment for 'blackening' someone's reputation with words.
[The idea that we are punished for misdeeds is certainly often true on many levels; our actions, good and bad, have consequences. The problem is that the reverse is not necessarily true. If we smoke, we may get cancer; but not everyone who gets cancer, smoked. The notion that if we suffer, we must therefore have sinned, is extremely problematic. In the Bible, everything is from YHVH, so suffering is generally seen as punishment but I think that all though it is His purpose, we do not always understand.]
Robins points out that at times, 'speaking out' may have negative social consequences. But there are also times when we must have the courage to speak the truth and not be silent. It is this act of teshuva, this turning and thinking about others, and speaking out can bring redemption.
Shabbat Shalom
2Kings 7:3-20
Reading date: 25th April 2009 – 1st Iyyar 5769
Our Highlighted Haftara Text
Then [the four lepers] said to one another, "We are not doing right. This is a day of good news, and we are keeping silent! If we wait until the light of morning, we shall incur guilt. Come let us go and inform the king's palace."
II Kings 7:9
Turning and thinking about others and speaking out can bring redemption.
The combined portions of Tazria-Metzora this week are probably the least favorite Torah portion of the year for a Bar/Bat Mitzvah: skin inflammations (zits), menstruation and night time emissions. But, fortunately, the haftara for both portions, connected by the issue of 'leprosy', tell interesting stories from the cycle of legends that revolve around the prophet Elisha. The portion for Tazria tells the story of Elisha miraculously curing Naaman of leprosy (2 Kings 4:42-5:19). When the portions are combined, as they are this year, we read the haftarah for Metzora (2 Kings 7:30).
The common, older translation of tzara'at and metzora as 'leprosy' and 'leper' is misleading. The description of the biblical disease does not correspond to true leprosy (also known as Hansen's disease). Scholars are not sure what medical condition would produce the white skin described in the Bible. Fox avoids the issue in his (normally excellent) translation by simply transliterating tzara'at instead of translating it, and awkwardly renders the latter metzora as 'one-with-tzara'at').
King Ben-Hadad of Aram, allied with the southern kingdom of Judah was waging a war against Israel. There was a famine in the land, and food was scarce. Food prices were out of control (a small quantity of carob pods- normally easily available and hardly a sought after food, sold for five shekels) and even cannibalism was reported. Samaria, the capital of Israel is under siege; but then inexplicably, the Aramean siege ends abruptly, and the Arameans are discovered to have deserted their army camp- leaving their animals, food, and gold behind. Elisha's prediction that food would be so plentiful, prices would drop to near normal levels comes true.
The haftara begins at verse 3 (after the prologue of Elisha’s prediction) with four lepers /outcasts' outside the gate of the city during Aram's siege of Samaria. Because they are 'outside the gates' and will starve to death if they stay there, they decide to take their chances with defecting to the Aramean camp. Initially, on discovering it deserted, they plunder it, eating and drinking and burying the gold and silver. But the lepers realize that what they are doing is not right, and they return to the city and inform the king. Their report is validated, and the city is saved.
There is one aspect to our story that is noteworthy. The many characters of our story: from king, courtier, soldiers, gatekeeper, are all nameless. Just as a name identifies an individual's character, the anonymity in our story highlights the characters' identity and role. Each character plays an archetype. Adele Reinhartz in her wonderful volume, "Why Ask My Name?" suggests that:Focus on role designations, in turn, allows us to construct identity in the locus between the role designation and the character's narrative portrayal. In doing so, we compare the stereotypical behaviors associated with the role in biblical narrative and the particular ways in which the unnamed character fulfills or does not fulfill the role, or we look at the degree to which he or she stretches its limits or calls its very contours into question.
The text wants us to focus on the identity of the four individuals as lepers. The bearers of good news, the four nameless 'lepers' were outcasts. Like our world today, individuals 'on the edge' of society are not valued. Yet it was these lowest four on the social ladder who were the instruments of their nation's salvation. It was precisely their location 'outside the gates' that enabled them to set into motion a chain of events that saved the city. But how did they do it? At first, they only worried about themselves. Then, they had a change of heart. As social outcasts they could have easily justified the looting to themselves as they felt abandoned by society. But they don't. They speak out instead.
Rabbi Rochelle Robins (in The Women's Haftara Commentary ed. Rabbi Elyse Goldstein) suggests that if the four 'lepers' are suffering from 'speaking out,' it is interesting then, that it is again by 'speaking out' that releases these individuals from their fate. Robins of course is basing this on the rabbinic play on words that see metzora as a contraction for motzi shem ra, speaking slander or gossip. Leprosy, turning one's skin white is interpreted by the Rabbis as Divine punishment for 'blackening' someone's reputation with words.
[The idea that we are punished for misdeeds is certainly often true on many levels; our actions, good and bad, have consequences. The problem is that the reverse is not necessarily true. If we smoke, we may get cancer; but not everyone who gets cancer, smoked. The notion that if we suffer, we must therefore have sinned, is extremely problematic. In the Bible, everything is from YHVH, so suffering is generally seen as punishment but I think that all though it is His purpose, we do not always understand.]
Robins points out that at times, 'speaking out' may have negative social consequences. But there are also times when we must have the courage to speak the truth and not be silent. It is this act of teshuva, this turning and thinking about others, and speaking out can bring redemption.
Shabbat Shalom
Parashat Sh'mini - the Haftara
Parashat Sh’mini - the Haftara
2 Samuel 6:1 – 7:17
Reading date: 18th April 2009 – 24th Nisan 5769
Our highlighted Haftara Text
"But when they came to the threshing floor of Nachon, Uzzah reached out for the Ark of God and grasped it, for the oxen had stumbled. Adonai was incensed at Uzzah. And God struck him down on the spot for his indiscretion, and he died there beside the Ark of God." II Samuel 6: 6, 7
Belief can only have worth when it values human life.
The bulk of this week's relatively short parasha focuses on the rules of purity and sanctification. Chapter eleven lists those animals that are permitted to be eaten, forming the basis of the dietary rules of Kashrut.
In this parasha is the short account of the death of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, when they offered 'alien' fire on the altar. The parallel to our Haftara is clear: Uzzah is also struck down by YHVH for touching the Ark. Curiously, the Ark was taken from the house of Avinadav, a combination of the names Avihu and Nadav. The installation of the Ark in Jerusalem also echoes the dedication of the Mishkan in Leviticus.
King David is trying to establish his authority and unify the tribes of Israel (in the north) and Judah (in the south). Besides political and national unity, David seeks to centralize religious life by moving the Ark to Jerusalem, David's new capital. Our haftara from the book of Second Samuel documents the transition of the Ark from a portable sanctuary to a fixed address. The move of YHVH's worship from a portable tent to a permanent house/shrine also marks a shift in the life of the people of Israel-- moving from the life of nomads to the fixed life of a nation/state of farmers.
Reading this story, I can't help but think of the excavations that we see taking place in the City of David, (outside what we call today the 'Old City’). According to Eilat Mazar, we may have found the foundations to David's palace.
The death of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, is a tragedy. The story appears for the first time briefly in our parasha, and is referred to again several times (Lev. 16:1; Num. 3:4; Num. 26:61; I Chron. 24:2). It seems like Nadav and Avihu can't be mentioned without the reminder, 'who offered alien fire and died.' This cryptic narrative is problematic. Why did they die? Although some Rabbis tried to find some indication of wrongdoing on their part (either hubris, intoxication, or a disregard for protocol), although some argue that such an approach is akin to 'blaming the victim'. Others considered them blameless and righteous. When we compare the parallel story found in our haftara, the implication that they were innocent is supported: the Ark is being joyfully transported to Jerusalem, and when the oxen stumble, Uzzah reaches out to support the Ark from falling. Suddenly, tragedy strikes: Uzzah dies. Clearly here, Uzzah is blameless. Even if this was 'an indiscretion', his was an inadvertent act, without any of the possible motives attributed to Aaron's sons.
Both stories demonstrate that objects of holiness are dangerous, like high voltage wires. The message seems to be: don't fool around with religion! Earlier in Parashat Toldot we talked about the need to perform religious acts properly. There is no excuse for sloppiness, so it is disappointing to see so many committed enough to put up a mezuzah, but end up putting it up the wrong way, without the proper scroll, or without the proper blessing. But imagine if we were killed for putting on tefillin the wrong way!? That seems a little extreme.
The early Chasidic masters also promoted an approach that it the thought that counts, and there are many Chasidic stories of simple Jews who reached a higher level of holiness than those who performed the mitzvot with all the minutiae, because they had the right kavannah (intent). Since we are just concluding the holiday of Passover, let me share a famous story of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, after a particularly satisfying Seder is told in a dream that the Seder of Chaim the porter was loftier than his. After searching out this simple, unlearned Jew, Levi Yitzhak tries to find out what Chaim did that was so special?
"Rabbi, I'll tell you the truth. I heard that we are not allowed to drink vodka for eight days. So this morning I drank enough to last me for eight days. So of course I was sleepy, and I went to bed. When it was night-time my wife wakes me up and starts nagging me. She starts saying 'Chaim,' she says, 'why don't you make a Seder like all the other Jews?’
"So I said to her, what do you want from me? I'm an ignoramus, and my father before me was an ignoramus. All I know is this--that our fathers were in exile and YHVH took us out from the land of the gypsies and made us free. And now we're all in exile again, but YHVH will bring us out again, for sure!' Then I saw that on the table there were matza and wine and eggs, so I ate the matza and the eggs, and I drank up the wine. And then I was so exhausted that I had to go back to sleep."
So many of us get so involved in the minutiae of Passover, we are too exhausted to really focus on the main thing. Tradition in general has this danger. The Midrash (Tanhuma Beshalach 21) in fact has the Israelites complain that YHVH's rituals are just too dangerous, because of the deaths of Nadav and Avihu and Uzzah. The Midrash's rebuttal is that the both the Ark and the incense which appear to cause death in our two stories, are also sources of blessing and protection. I think this Midrash has a great truth. Traditional ritual can either be a source of meaning or life-threatening. The Rabbis reject the poisonous oleander and identify the 'thickly leaved boughs' for the lulav and etrog used on Sukkot as the sweet smelling myrtle. "Dracheha darchei noam, the Torah's ways are ways of pleasantness", they argue; the Torah is a source of life.
Every week we read of suicide bombers and worshippers killed in mosques. Religion today is too often used to justify or cause death; religion can only have worth when it values human life. We often don't consider our religion to be a 'life or death' issue, but this week's portion makes us ask: 'Are the religious ideas and rituals that we are engaged with life affirming?' Because if they aren't, they might be as dangerous as touching a high tension electric wire.
Shabbat Shalom
2 Samuel 6:1 – 7:17
Reading date: 18th April 2009 – 24th Nisan 5769
Our highlighted Haftara Text
"But when they came to the threshing floor of Nachon, Uzzah reached out for the Ark of God and grasped it, for the oxen had stumbled. Adonai was incensed at Uzzah. And God struck him down on the spot for his indiscretion, and he died there beside the Ark of God." II Samuel 6: 6, 7
Belief can only have worth when it values human life.
The bulk of this week's relatively short parasha focuses on the rules of purity and sanctification. Chapter eleven lists those animals that are permitted to be eaten, forming the basis of the dietary rules of Kashrut.
In this parasha is the short account of the death of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, when they offered 'alien' fire on the altar. The parallel to our Haftara is clear: Uzzah is also struck down by YHVH for touching the Ark. Curiously, the Ark was taken from the house of Avinadav, a combination of the names Avihu and Nadav. The installation of the Ark in Jerusalem also echoes the dedication of the Mishkan in Leviticus.
King David is trying to establish his authority and unify the tribes of Israel (in the north) and Judah (in the south). Besides political and national unity, David seeks to centralize religious life by moving the Ark to Jerusalem, David's new capital. Our haftara from the book of Second Samuel documents the transition of the Ark from a portable sanctuary to a fixed address. The move of YHVH's worship from a portable tent to a permanent house/shrine also marks a shift in the life of the people of Israel-- moving from the life of nomads to the fixed life of a nation/state of farmers.
Reading this story, I can't help but think of the excavations that we see taking place in the City of David, (outside what we call today the 'Old City’). According to Eilat Mazar, we may have found the foundations to David's palace.
The death of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, is a tragedy. The story appears for the first time briefly in our parasha, and is referred to again several times (Lev. 16:1; Num. 3:4; Num. 26:61; I Chron. 24:2). It seems like Nadav and Avihu can't be mentioned without the reminder, 'who offered alien fire and died.' This cryptic narrative is problematic. Why did they die? Although some Rabbis tried to find some indication of wrongdoing on their part (either hubris, intoxication, or a disregard for protocol), although some argue that such an approach is akin to 'blaming the victim'. Others considered them blameless and righteous. When we compare the parallel story found in our haftara, the implication that they were innocent is supported: the Ark is being joyfully transported to Jerusalem, and when the oxen stumble, Uzzah reaches out to support the Ark from falling. Suddenly, tragedy strikes: Uzzah dies. Clearly here, Uzzah is blameless. Even if this was 'an indiscretion', his was an inadvertent act, without any of the possible motives attributed to Aaron's sons.
Both stories demonstrate that objects of holiness are dangerous, like high voltage wires. The message seems to be: don't fool around with religion! Earlier in Parashat Toldot we talked about the need to perform religious acts properly. There is no excuse for sloppiness, so it is disappointing to see so many committed enough to put up a mezuzah, but end up putting it up the wrong way, without the proper scroll, or without the proper blessing. But imagine if we were killed for putting on tefillin the wrong way!? That seems a little extreme.
The early Chasidic masters also promoted an approach that it the thought that counts, and there are many Chasidic stories of simple Jews who reached a higher level of holiness than those who performed the mitzvot with all the minutiae, because they had the right kavannah (intent). Since we are just concluding the holiday of Passover, let me share a famous story of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, after a particularly satisfying Seder is told in a dream that the Seder of Chaim the porter was loftier than his. After searching out this simple, unlearned Jew, Levi Yitzhak tries to find out what Chaim did that was so special?
"Rabbi, I'll tell you the truth. I heard that we are not allowed to drink vodka for eight days. So this morning I drank enough to last me for eight days. So of course I was sleepy, and I went to bed. When it was night-time my wife wakes me up and starts nagging me. She starts saying 'Chaim,' she says, 'why don't you make a Seder like all the other Jews?’
"So I said to her, what do you want from me? I'm an ignoramus, and my father before me was an ignoramus. All I know is this--that our fathers were in exile and YHVH took us out from the land of the gypsies and made us free. And now we're all in exile again, but YHVH will bring us out again, for sure!' Then I saw that on the table there were matza and wine and eggs, so I ate the matza and the eggs, and I drank up the wine. And then I was so exhausted that I had to go back to sleep."
So many of us get so involved in the minutiae of Passover, we are too exhausted to really focus on the main thing. Tradition in general has this danger. The Midrash (Tanhuma Beshalach 21) in fact has the Israelites complain that YHVH's rituals are just too dangerous, because of the deaths of Nadav and Avihu and Uzzah. The Midrash's rebuttal is that the both the Ark and the incense which appear to cause death in our two stories, are also sources of blessing and protection. I think this Midrash has a great truth. Traditional ritual can either be a source of meaning or life-threatening. The Rabbis reject the poisonous oleander and identify the 'thickly leaved boughs' for the lulav and etrog used on Sukkot as the sweet smelling myrtle. "Dracheha darchei noam, the Torah's ways are ways of pleasantness", they argue; the Torah is a source of life.
Every week we read of suicide bombers and worshippers killed in mosques. Religion today is too often used to justify or cause death; religion can only have worth when it values human life. We often don't consider our religion to be a 'life or death' issue, but this week's portion makes us ask: 'Are the religious ideas and rituals that we are engaged with life affirming?' Because if they aren't, they might be as dangerous as touching a high tension electric wire.
Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Chol HaMoed Peasch - The Haftara
Chol haMoed Pesach - the Haftara
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Reading date: 11th April 2009 – 17th Nisan 5769
I would like, for your interest, to include a little about the history and traditions of Pesach.
Passover Introduction
The History of Pesach
Pesach, the springtime holiday of Passover always begins on the 15th day of the Jewish month of Nissan. Like all Holy days, Passover begins the evening before, so the first seder is held on the evening of April 8. The basic theme of the day is the exodus from slavery in Egypt; the various rituals and texts associated with Pesach help us to establish and understand this crucial narrative of communal memory. The basic story is found in the book of Exodus, chapters 1-15. Chapters 12-15 contain details of the observance of the holiday itself.
The name Pesach comes from a Hebrew word meaning "to pass through" or "to pass over". It refers to the story of how YHVH "passed over" the houses of the Hebrews during the plague of the Death of the First Born. "Pesach" is also the name of the sacrificial offering (a lamb) that was made in the Temple on this holiday. Pesach is also sometimes called the Chag Ha-Aviv "Holiday of the Springtime," or Zman Cherutenu "the Season of our Freedom."
On the first night of Pesach (first two nights for many traditional Jews outside Israel), there is a special meal filled with ritual to teach us the significance of the holiday. This meal is called a Seder, from a Hebrew word meaning "order." There is a set of texts that are to be discussed in a specific order. The Seder also includes rituals of eating matza and bitter herbs, singing holiday songs and asking questions. The texts, prayers and instructions for the evening are found in a volume called the Haggada, which means 'telling.' The point of the evening is not to read the Haggada, but to use it as a springboard to 'jump off the page.'
Prohibited Foods
The most well-known observances of Pesach are the holding of the Seder meal on the first night (or nights) and the prohibitions against the eating of Hametz - leavened foods. Leavened foods include anything made from five basic grains: wheat, barley, spelt, rye, and oats. This includes anything made from these products, including beer and grain alcohols. The only acceptable way to eat these grain products is in the form of Matza, or unleavened bread, which is baked very quickly so that the dough does not rise. This helps us remember the speed with which the Israelites left Egypt. The Bible says that they did not have time for their bread to rise. Other kinds of foods can be made from ground-up matza, including cakes and confections, but these are prepared especially for Pesach.
Jews of Ashkenazi (European) descent often also refrain from eating a category of food called kitniyot. These are products made from seeds and beans, including rice, corn, and legumes. The concern is that the prohibited foods may be confused with these items in processed form. Many Sephardic Jews will eat kitniyot, but customs vary widely.
Biblically, Pesach lasts for seven days, but, since Rabbinic times, many communities observe eight days. The prohibition against eating leavened foods lasts until sundown after the final day of the holiday.
Our highlighted Haftara text
"Then God said to me: Mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say: Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost; we are cut off [from life]! Therefore prophesy to them and say: Thus says the Elohim: I am going to open your graves, My people; I will lift you out of your graves and bring you [home] to the land of Israel."Ezekiel 37: 11, 12
Nothing is wasted in nature or in love.
The Shabbat that falls in the middle of Pesach interrupts the weekly cycle of Torah readings, and like first and second day, the holiday readings describe the celebration of Passover and the sacrificial offerings. Ezekiel's haftara begins comparing Jerusalem during the festivals when they are filled with flocks to Israel's ruined cities that will be filled with people. The Haftara is probably one of the most famous passages from the prophets: Ezekiel's image of the 'dry bones.' The idea that Israel would be restored was a message of consolation and comfort to the exiles of Babylonia. Different communities read slightly different verses: some read from Ez. 36:37, 38; 37:14; others read 37:1-17).
The prophet Ezekiel lived during the destruction of the First Temple at the hands of Nebuchadnezzar (586 BCE) and was exiled to Babylonia. In the first half of the book of Ezekiel, the prophet warns of the imminent destruction of Jerusalem; in the latter half, he preaches a message of consolation and restoration. While Ezekiel still had hope that the Northern Kingdom would be restored and then united, in fact, this prophecy did not come to pass. The Northern Kingdom was conquered by the Assyrians over a hundred years earlier (722 BCE), and has disappeared from history.
The holiday of Passover marks the 'birth' of the Children of Israel. The exodus narrative is filled with birth imagery: the midwives in Exodus, the narrow birth canal of the Red Sea, and the 'breaking of the waters.' Spring is also about birth; the natural world around us is filled with signs of life. In ancient religion, rebirth, fertility and resurrection are themes associated with springtime. With the holiday of Passover, Israel's hot, dry summer season begins. The rainy season that began at Sukkot is now over. Dew, the only source of daily moisture for plants becomes associated with this rebirth. Starting on Passover, we replace the blessing "who makes the rain fall" with "who makes the dew fall" in our daily liturgy. The prayer for dew is inserted in the 'Gevurot,' the second paragraph of the Amidah, the prayer that speaks about reviving the dead.
Where does this idea of resurrection come from? The Torah certainly does not mention resurrection explicitly, or even any belief in an afterlife. In Genesis, Adam is told, "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return" (Gen. 3:19b). But the Torah does not have the final word. Slowly, the idea that death may not be the final stop evolves. By the time of Ezekiel, his prophecy of the dry bones becomes interpreted as a depiction of resurrection: dry bones reassembling, sinews and flesh appearing. His graphic description reads like science fiction, and I can just imagine how this could be realistically portrayed today with computer digital animation. Wow, what a special effect! Over the centuries, Ezekiel's message has been understood by many quite literally. Traditional Judaism, to the extent that it has any official 'dogma' considers belief in the resurrection of the dead as a key tenet. Maimonides lists it in his thirteen articles of faith, and it appears in the liturgy in the closing hymn of Yigdal: Meitim yehayeh eil...
But this may not have been Ezekiel's intent. He was addressing the exiles in Babylonia. The Temple had been destroyed. Their lives in Israel were over. Was this to be the end of the Jewish people (like it was the end of the Israelite northern kingdom which has vanished)? Ezekiel reassures them that their lives still have meaning. They can live with hope that although they are 'like dead', Israel will be revived. Today we have seen with our own eyes Ezekiel's vision on the national level come true. Six million Jews were murdered in the Shoah (Holocaust) and yet the State of Israel was re-established. Our bones have come to life.
Ezekiel can be read allegorically--as national/political renewal; we don't have to believe in a literal physical resurrection if we don't want to. The liberals say, resurrection is often understood metaphorically, and 'who gives life to the dead' is changed to 'who gives life to all' (mehayeh hakol instead of mehayeh meitim), although newer liturgies are retaining the traditional language.
Passover's message is that just as the earth continually is renewed, our lives too have the potential for redemption. Our festival of liberation teaches us that as life goes on, nothing is wasted in nature or in love.
Happy Passover and Shabbat Shalom
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Reading date: 11th April 2009 – 17th Nisan 5769
I would like, for your interest, to include a little about the history and traditions of Pesach.
Passover Introduction
The History of Pesach
Pesach, the springtime holiday of Passover always begins on the 15th day of the Jewish month of Nissan. Like all Holy days, Passover begins the evening before, so the first seder is held on the evening of April 8. The basic theme of the day is the exodus from slavery in Egypt; the various rituals and texts associated with Pesach help us to establish and understand this crucial narrative of communal memory. The basic story is found in the book of Exodus, chapters 1-15. Chapters 12-15 contain details of the observance of the holiday itself.
The name Pesach comes from a Hebrew word meaning "to pass through" or "to pass over". It refers to the story of how YHVH "passed over" the houses of the Hebrews during the plague of the Death of the First Born. "Pesach" is also the name of the sacrificial offering (a lamb) that was made in the Temple on this holiday. Pesach is also sometimes called the Chag Ha-Aviv "Holiday of the Springtime," or Zman Cherutenu "the Season of our Freedom."
On the first night of Pesach (first two nights for many traditional Jews outside Israel), there is a special meal filled with ritual to teach us the significance of the holiday. This meal is called a Seder, from a Hebrew word meaning "order." There is a set of texts that are to be discussed in a specific order. The Seder also includes rituals of eating matza and bitter herbs, singing holiday songs and asking questions. The texts, prayers and instructions for the evening are found in a volume called the Haggada, which means 'telling.' The point of the evening is not to read the Haggada, but to use it as a springboard to 'jump off the page.'
Prohibited Foods
The most well-known observances of Pesach are the holding of the Seder meal on the first night (or nights) and the prohibitions against the eating of Hametz - leavened foods. Leavened foods include anything made from five basic grains: wheat, barley, spelt, rye, and oats. This includes anything made from these products, including beer and grain alcohols. The only acceptable way to eat these grain products is in the form of Matza, or unleavened bread, which is baked very quickly so that the dough does not rise. This helps us remember the speed with which the Israelites left Egypt. The Bible says that they did not have time for their bread to rise. Other kinds of foods can be made from ground-up matza, including cakes and confections, but these are prepared especially for Pesach.
Jews of Ashkenazi (European) descent often also refrain from eating a category of food called kitniyot. These are products made from seeds and beans, including rice, corn, and legumes. The concern is that the prohibited foods may be confused with these items in processed form. Many Sephardic Jews will eat kitniyot, but customs vary widely.
Biblically, Pesach lasts for seven days, but, since Rabbinic times, many communities observe eight days. The prohibition against eating leavened foods lasts until sundown after the final day of the holiday.
Our highlighted Haftara text
"Then God said to me: Mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say: Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost; we are cut off [from life]! Therefore prophesy to them and say: Thus says the Elohim: I am going to open your graves, My people; I will lift you out of your graves and bring you [home] to the land of Israel."Ezekiel 37: 11, 12
Nothing is wasted in nature or in love.
The Shabbat that falls in the middle of Pesach interrupts the weekly cycle of Torah readings, and like first and second day, the holiday readings describe the celebration of Passover and the sacrificial offerings. Ezekiel's haftara begins comparing Jerusalem during the festivals when they are filled with flocks to Israel's ruined cities that will be filled with people. The Haftara is probably one of the most famous passages from the prophets: Ezekiel's image of the 'dry bones.' The idea that Israel would be restored was a message of consolation and comfort to the exiles of Babylonia. Different communities read slightly different verses: some read from Ez. 36:37, 38; 37:14; others read 37:1-17).
The prophet Ezekiel lived during the destruction of the First Temple at the hands of Nebuchadnezzar (586 BCE) and was exiled to Babylonia. In the first half of the book of Ezekiel, the prophet warns of the imminent destruction of Jerusalem; in the latter half, he preaches a message of consolation and restoration. While Ezekiel still had hope that the Northern Kingdom would be restored and then united, in fact, this prophecy did not come to pass. The Northern Kingdom was conquered by the Assyrians over a hundred years earlier (722 BCE), and has disappeared from history.
The holiday of Passover marks the 'birth' of the Children of Israel. The exodus narrative is filled with birth imagery: the midwives in Exodus, the narrow birth canal of the Red Sea, and the 'breaking of the waters.' Spring is also about birth; the natural world around us is filled with signs of life. In ancient religion, rebirth, fertility and resurrection are themes associated with springtime. With the holiday of Passover, Israel's hot, dry summer season begins. The rainy season that began at Sukkot is now over. Dew, the only source of daily moisture for plants becomes associated with this rebirth. Starting on Passover, we replace the blessing "who makes the rain fall" with "who makes the dew fall" in our daily liturgy. The prayer for dew is inserted in the 'Gevurot,' the second paragraph of the Amidah, the prayer that speaks about reviving the dead.
Where does this idea of resurrection come from? The Torah certainly does not mention resurrection explicitly, or even any belief in an afterlife. In Genesis, Adam is told, "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return" (Gen. 3:19b). But the Torah does not have the final word. Slowly, the idea that death may not be the final stop evolves. By the time of Ezekiel, his prophecy of the dry bones becomes interpreted as a depiction of resurrection: dry bones reassembling, sinews and flesh appearing. His graphic description reads like science fiction, and I can just imagine how this could be realistically portrayed today with computer digital animation. Wow, what a special effect! Over the centuries, Ezekiel's message has been understood by many quite literally. Traditional Judaism, to the extent that it has any official 'dogma' considers belief in the resurrection of the dead as a key tenet. Maimonides lists it in his thirteen articles of faith, and it appears in the liturgy in the closing hymn of Yigdal: Meitim yehayeh eil...
But this may not have been Ezekiel's intent. He was addressing the exiles in Babylonia. The Temple had been destroyed. Their lives in Israel were over. Was this to be the end of the Jewish people (like it was the end of the Israelite northern kingdom which has vanished)? Ezekiel reassures them that their lives still have meaning. They can live with hope that although they are 'like dead', Israel will be revived. Today we have seen with our own eyes Ezekiel's vision on the national level come true. Six million Jews were murdered in the Shoah (Holocaust) and yet the State of Israel was re-established. Our bones have come to life.
Ezekiel can be read allegorically--as national/political renewal; we don't have to believe in a literal physical resurrection if we don't want to. The liberals say, resurrection is often understood metaphorically, and 'who gives life to the dead' is changed to 'who gives life to all' (mehayeh hakol instead of mehayeh meitim), although newer liturgies are retaining the traditional language.
Passover's message is that just as the earth continually is renewed, our lives too have the potential for redemption. Our festival of liberation teaches us that as life goes on, nothing is wasted in nature or in love.
Happy Passover and Shabbat Shalom
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Parashat Tsav - The Haftara
Parashat Tsav – the Haftara
Malachi 3:4 – 3:24
Reading date: 4th April 2009 – 10th Nisan 5769
Our highlighted Haftara text
"I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Eternal" Malachi 3: 23
Passover orients us towards that great day of redemption for all the world.
The second portion in the book of Leviticus continues last week's descriptions of the sacrifices with instructions for the kohen- a 'priestly manual' on how to perform the sacrificial service. Our parasha of Tzav, as it often does, falls this year with the Shabbat before Pesach, and once again, a special Haftara from Malachi replaces the regular assigned reading from Jeremiah. To connect to the parasha, the haftara indeed begins with: "Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to Adonai as they were in days of old, as in years long past." (3:4). However, the passage from Malachi connects more to the upcoming festival of Passover than it does to the Levitical passage.
The name of this Shabbat, 'Shabbat HaGadol' (the Great Sabbath) may get its name from the concluding verse: "I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the ‘great’ and terrible day of the Eternal" (3:23); this penultimate verse is re-read after verse 24 to avoid ending on a negative note. Others suggest the name comes from the fact that this was the one Shabbat that the Rabbi spoke at length (usually on laws concerning Passover); sermons are a relatively recent innovation.
Malachi, which simply means 'My messenger,' is more of a title, than an actual personal name. The anonymous individual we call Malachi was the last of the prophets, and lived in the middle of the 5th century B.C.E. before the reforms of Ezra and Nehemiah. (Some sources in fact identify him as Ezra.) At that time, Judea was still a province of Persia. While it seems that he lived at a time when the Temple had been rebuilt (515 B.C.E.) religious performance was perfunctory. Malachi calls for a religious revival.
The Moadim or holydays can be thought of as the DNA of Torah. Irving ('Yitz') Greenberg writes in the introduction to his volume on the Holydays: The Jewish Way, "Grasp [the holy days] in your hand and you hold the heart of the faith in your hand. The holy days are the quintessential Hebraic religious expression..." Every holyday has a central theme, and while we might reflect on religious freedom at Chanukah, or our commitment to study on Shavuot, most holydays celebrate an event that happened only once, a long time ago. But not Passover. The festival of Passover is really three holydays in one. (And here I am not referring to the ancient farmer and shepherd festivals that were combined into the historical exodus from Egypt). But rather, I mean, that the Passover celebration of the exodus is simultaneously a holyday that remembers the past, is recreated in the present, and is a model for the future.
The exodus from Egypt may have been a one time event, but it permeates Hebraic life. It would be hard to exaggerate its importance: we are commanded to remember the exodus daily; the exodus is recited daily in our prayers, and is included in the Friday night Kiddush. Tzitzit, (the fringes on our tallit) serve as a reminder that YHVH took us out of Egypt. The first line of the Ten Commandments identifies YHVH as the God who took us out of Egypt.
But Passover does not only celebrate the exodus from Egypt as an event that occurred in the past. The whole point of the Seder and the ritual foods and the storytelling on Passover night is to reenact the story. Some communities go so far as to dress up: taking a staff and walking around the table. Perhaps we should pack our knapsacks or our suitcases and have them ready, next to our Seder tables. (What should we pack could be an interesting discussion for the Seder itself). Have you ever been to the theatre where the performance so moved you that you were 'breathless?' The purpose of this night of 'dinner theatre' is not only to think about the past, but to actually go through the experience yourself. The Haggada is explicit: In every generation a person must see themselves as if they themselves had left Egypt. What does this mean? Most of the time we understand 'Mitzrayim' literally narrow places, metaphorically; even without going to Egypt, then, the Seder is an opportunity to consider how we are enslaved in the present.
But that's not all. Passover is not only about the past and the present. It is also a model for future redemption. Yitz continues: "The central paradigm of Torah is redemption." And there is no holiday that is more focused on redemption than Passover. Passover seems to say, "If it happened once, it can happen again." Before the exodus from Egypt, the world ran on the principle, 'same old, same old.' There was no escaping fate. Unlike other animals, humans do not live only with the past and in the present. Human beings can anticipate future redemption and work to bring it closer. Humans are future-oriented, and Yitz calls the exodus "an orienting event." Just like we use a compass to orient ourselves if we get lost, humanity must check with the exodus from time to time, to make sure we are on the right path.
What was the most significant event in human history: the invention of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, the Internet? Yitz argues that it would be the exodus. Not only is it the primary event (that is, if it hadn't happened, none of the other events would have happened), but its message of redemption continues to reverberate as the single most powerful declaration of hope in human history. Passover celebrates the ultimate (and one hopes imminent) day when Elijah the prophet will herald the ultimate liberation from oppression.
Which brings us to our haftara. Because we associate Elijah the prophet with the Seder, the mention of Elijah in the haftara is often thought to be the connection between Malachi and this Shabbat that precedes Passover, but the tradition of Elijah's cup and Elijah at the Seder are a later tradition. Malachi describes the ultimate liberation of Israel from oppression. Malachi's main message is to return back to YHVH, to do teshuva. Then that 'Great Day' will come, the great day that Passover orients us towards, the day of redemption for the entire world.
Happy Passover and Shabbat Shalom
Malachi 3:4 – 3:24
Reading date: 4th April 2009 – 10th Nisan 5769
Our highlighted Haftara text
"I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Eternal" Malachi 3: 23
Passover orients us towards that great day of redemption for all the world.
The second portion in the book of Leviticus continues last week's descriptions of the sacrifices with instructions for the kohen- a 'priestly manual' on how to perform the sacrificial service. Our parasha of Tzav, as it often does, falls this year with the Shabbat before Pesach, and once again, a special Haftara from Malachi replaces the regular assigned reading from Jeremiah. To connect to the parasha, the haftara indeed begins with: "Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to Adonai as they were in days of old, as in years long past." (3:4). However, the passage from Malachi connects more to the upcoming festival of Passover than it does to the Levitical passage.
The name of this Shabbat, 'Shabbat HaGadol' (the Great Sabbath) may get its name from the concluding verse: "I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the ‘great’ and terrible day of the Eternal" (3:23); this penultimate verse is re-read after verse 24 to avoid ending on a negative note. Others suggest the name comes from the fact that this was the one Shabbat that the Rabbi spoke at length (usually on laws concerning Passover); sermons are a relatively recent innovation.
Malachi, which simply means 'My messenger,' is more of a title, than an actual personal name. The anonymous individual we call Malachi was the last of the prophets, and lived in the middle of the 5th century B.C.E. before the reforms of Ezra and Nehemiah. (Some sources in fact identify him as Ezra.) At that time, Judea was still a province of Persia. While it seems that he lived at a time when the Temple had been rebuilt (515 B.C.E.) religious performance was perfunctory. Malachi calls for a religious revival.
The Moadim or holydays can be thought of as the DNA of Torah. Irving ('Yitz') Greenberg writes in the introduction to his volume on the Holydays: The Jewish Way, "Grasp [the holy days] in your hand and you hold the heart of the faith in your hand. The holy days are the quintessential Hebraic religious expression..." Every holyday has a central theme, and while we might reflect on religious freedom at Chanukah, or our commitment to study on Shavuot, most holydays celebrate an event that happened only once, a long time ago. But not Passover. The festival of Passover is really three holydays in one. (And here I am not referring to the ancient farmer and shepherd festivals that were combined into the historical exodus from Egypt). But rather, I mean, that the Passover celebration of the exodus is simultaneously a holyday that remembers the past, is recreated in the present, and is a model for the future.
The exodus from Egypt may have been a one time event, but it permeates Hebraic life. It would be hard to exaggerate its importance: we are commanded to remember the exodus daily; the exodus is recited daily in our prayers, and is included in the Friday night Kiddush. Tzitzit, (the fringes on our tallit) serve as a reminder that YHVH took us out of Egypt. The first line of the Ten Commandments identifies YHVH as the God who took us out of Egypt.
But Passover does not only celebrate the exodus from Egypt as an event that occurred in the past. The whole point of the Seder and the ritual foods and the storytelling on Passover night is to reenact the story. Some communities go so far as to dress up: taking a staff and walking around the table. Perhaps we should pack our knapsacks or our suitcases and have them ready, next to our Seder tables. (What should we pack could be an interesting discussion for the Seder itself). Have you ever been to the theatre where the performance so moved you that you were 'breathless?' The purpose of this night of 'dinner theatre' is not only to think about the past, but to actually go through the experience yourself. The Haggada is explicit: In every generation a person must see themselves as if they themselves had left Egypt. What does this mean? Most of the time we understand 'Mitzrayim' literally narrow places, metaphorically; even without going to Egypt, then, the Seder is an opportunity to consider how we are enslaved in the present.
But that's not all. Passover is not only about the past and the present. It is also a model for future redemption. Yitz continues: "The central paradigm of Torah is redemption." And there is no holiday that is more focused on redemption than Passover. Passover seems to say, "If it happened once, it can happen again." Before the exodus from Egypt, the world ran on the principle, 'same old, same old.' There was no escaping fate. Unlike other animals, humans do not live only with the past and in the present. Human beings can anticipate future redemption and work to bring it closer. Humans are future-oriented, and Yitz calls the exodus "an orienting event." Just like we use a compass to orient ourselves if we get lost, humanity must check with the exodus from time to time, to make sure we are on the right path.
What was the most significant event in human history: the invention of the printing press, the Industrial Revolution, the Internet? Yitz argues that it would be the exodus. Not only is it the primary event (that is, if it hadn't happened, none of the other events would have happened), but its message of redemption continues to reverberate as the single most powerful declaration of hope in human history. Passover celebrates the ultimate (and one hopes imminent) day when Elijah the prophet will herald the ultimate liberation from oppression.
Which brings us to our haftara. Because we associate Elijah the prophet with the Seder, the mention of Elijah in the haftara is often thought to be the connection between Malachi and this Shabbat that precedes Passover, but the tradition of Elijah's cup and Elijah at the Seder are a later tradition. Malachi describes the ultimate liberation of Israel from oppression. Malachi's main message is to return back to YHVH, to do teshuva. Then that 'Great Day' will come, the great day that Passover orients us towards, the day of redemption for the entire world.
Happy Passover and Shabbat Shalom
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