The Hebrew Scriptures are not readily or easily understood by native English speakers, we post a weekly addition to regular Torah commentary. "Cutting to the Root" is intended to promote an understanding of the complexity of the Hebrew language and thereby gain a richer and deeper understanding of the Scriptures. It is our goal that these notes will teach tolerance and understanding.Please visit our web site at www.shefaisrael.com

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Parashat Naso - the Hafatar

Parashat Naso - the Haftara
Judges 13:2-25
Reading date: 30th May 2009 – 7th Sivan 5769


Our Highlighted Haftara Text
"Take care not to drink wine or beer, or eat anything unclean, for you shall soon be pregnant, and give birth to a boy. His hair is never to be cut, because from the womb he is YHVH's Nazerite; he will begin to liberate Israel from the hand of the Philistines." Judges 13:4-5

The person who chooses their own destiny has true strength.

Probably one of the most famous figures from the book of Judges is Samson, the hero of the haftara read this week. The haftara tells of his birth and the instructions for him to be a Nazerite from birth. This is the connection to the Torah portion that details the prohibition against drinking intoxicants (as well as grape products including raisins) and not cutting one's hair. (It is not cutting his hair that gives him his super-human strength.)

The Samson narratives read like the Hercules' myth. Samson is the strong (but not particularly bright) tragic hero. The haftara only describes the announcement of his birth (with parallels to other earlier patriarchs). Later in the story, Samson falls in love with Delilah. The names have significance: Samson's Hebrew name ‘Shimshon’ is derived from the word for ‘shemesh’, sun, while the word 'lailah' (night) would have been heard by the biblical listener for his nemesis Delilah. The origins of Delilah are not clear; some suggest that the name comes from ‘dal’ (weak or poor); others relate the word to an Arabic term for prostitute. Notwithstanding baby books explanations that the name means 'delicate, amorous' the name Delilah has become synonymous with a treacherous and cunning woman. To further reinforce the idea of Delilah's power to undo Samson, she is from the valley of Sorek, which refers to a choice grapevine. Delilah is a woman of wine!

Here we have the beginnings of the conflict between Israel and the Philistines. This powerful enemy lived on the coast of Israel. The ancient Israelites (unlike today who mainly populate the coastal regions of the country, except for Jerusalem and a few isolated urban areas) lived mostly in the foothills. The Israelite struggle with the Philistines continued until David vanquished Goliath, the most famous Philistine.

The name Philistine was adopted by the Romans to refer to that strip of land in the Middle East, the origin of the English word: Palestine. The Philistines were a highly advanced urban society: they had iron which gave them weapons and chariots. Compared to them, the Israelites, coming from the desert, were country boys. The name Philistine became synonymous with 'enemy' and German students used the term to refer to non-academics. Ironically, its usage entered the English language to mean any person with no culture or sophistication.

The Torah describes individuals who take a 'vow' to be a Nazir, but the obvious connection to the Haftara (nazir-Samson) also highlights an important difference: Samson does not choose to be a Nazerite. In fact, Samson is the only Nazerite from birth. The Torah's Nazerite is an individual who chooses deliberately to serve YHVH (for a limited period of time).

Today there are those contemplating placing their destiny alongside the Nation of Israel. While people are being prepared for this step, and there is a lot of preparation to be done, they could be known as converts. Once they have completed the learning process and have become fully familiarized with what it means to be a part of the Nation, they are no longer referred to as converts but are a fully fledged member of the Nation. They are 100% Israelite.
I once attended a synagogue where the rabbi, wanting to impress upon the bar mitzvah boy the significance of the day, said that on this day the boy was 'choosing' Judaism. In his remarks, he said that he was a 'Jew by choice.' I remember thinking, 'Wow, I never knew that the Rabbi had converted to Judaism?!' Of course he hadn't. His point was that in today's society, we are all 'Jews by choice.' We all have the choice (unlike our ancestors) to actively live an observant lifestyle or not.

For the most part, today this ability to choose has been a disadvantage. Most people, particularly Jews take their birthright for granted. How many of us would 'choose' to be Jewish, if we weren't born that way? Our parasha (for the second time) records a census: stand up and be counted. Too many Jews today do not choose to be counted. We don't have to choose to be Nazerites, but we should demonstrate that we have chosen Torah.

Yes, Samson had powerful muscles from his birthright, but it is the person who chooses their own destiny that has true strength.

Shabbat Shalom

Hag Shavuot

Hag HaShavuot

Reading date: 29th May 2009 – 6th Sivan 5769

The Festival of Shavuot or "Weeks," is one of the Shalosh Regalim (Exodus 23:14); one of the three main pilgrimage festivals. It comes at the end of the seven-times-seven (a "week of weeks") cycle of the Omer, which begins on the second day of Pesach.

The Festival of Shavuot is something of an oddity. Not only is it not assigned to a specific date, but there is no real explanation given in Torah as to the meaning of the day, nor how it is to be observed ritually. In Biblical times, the period of counting seven weeks marked the transition from the very first grain crop (barley) of early spring (at Pesach) to the beginning of the summer grain (wheat) harvest (at Shavuot). Thus names for Shavuot given in the Torah are Chag Ha-Katzir - the Festival of the Harvest - and Chag Ha-Bikkurim - the Festival of the First Fruits (Cf. Exodus 23:14-19; Leviticus 23:9-22). The day is identified as a holy occasion, to be observed as a Sabbath, and specific sacrificial offerings are to be brought to the Temple. But beyond that, there is no special ritual prescribed (like Matza on Pesach or Lulav and Etrog on Sukkot).
These agricultural roots (so to speak) of Shavuot probably sufficed for the agrarian society of ancient Israel while they lived in the Promised Land. But they didn't really allow for a meaningful holiday for Jews once they were outside the Land of Israel, where farming was on a different cycle and there was no Temple to which one could bring the seasonal offerings. In exile, Jews were left with a commanded festival with no apparent meaning. But tradition abhors a vacuum. So what inherent meaning could be found for Shavuot?

The meaning of Shavuot became apparent after considering the relationship of Shavuot with Pesach and Sukkot. All are Biblically commanded festivals. All have an agricultural connection, assigned to a specific harvest season. But Pesach and Sukkot both have historical associations as well. Pesach commemorates the Exodus and the liberation from Egyptian bondage. Sukkot, and the dwelling in the Sukkah, recall the Israelite's experience while wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. So, the sages assumed, Shavuot must fit into this paradigm as well. But how? Well, 50 days after leaving Egypt, and before they set out to wander in the desert, the Israelites found themselves camped out at the base of Mt. Sinai, awaiting the revelation of God's teachings. And so, in this historical sequence, Shavuot naturally became associated with an extraordinary and significant event: the revelation of the Torah to Moses on Mt. Sinai. While Shavuot had no 'historical' event associated with it in the Torah, and the event of Revelation had no holiday to mark it, it was, as Tevye would say, 'a perfect match.' Conveniently, since Revelation and Shavuot both do not have an actual date in the Torah (Shavuot is only 50 days from after Passover, with some creative counting, the Rabbis were able to determine that Revelation coincides with Shavuot. See Arthur Waskow's Seasons of our Joy for a full detailed explanation.) The Rabbis had a vested interest in this transformation as well. They saw themselves as the legitimate heirs to the Temple and priestly leadership. Instead of sacrifices, Torah learning must be at the centre. How could there not be a holiday to acknowledge the giving of the Torah?
The sages came to refer to Shavuot as Z'man Matan Toratenu- The Time of the Giving of our Torah. As the anniversary of revelation, Shavuot evolved into a celebration of Torah. In the synagogue, the account of the revelation at Sinai and the Ten Commandments are read as part of the service. Among Ashkenazi Jews, a custom also developed associating the Megilat Ruth- the Book of Ruth with Shavuot. There are a number of links that make this an appropriate text. Particularly, the setting of the story is at the harvest time, and Ruth's joining to the Nation is seen as analogous to the Israelite's acceptance of the covenant at Sinai. In addition, King David, who tradition teaches was born and died on Shavuot, is identified in the book as being descended from Ruth.

Another popular custom, which originated with the Jewish mystics in Tsfat in the sixteenth century, is the practice of staying up all through the night of Shavuot studying Torah. This practice, called a Tikkun Leil Shavuot is based on a Midrash that explains that the Israelites slept late on the morning of the revelation at Sinai, and thus almost missed the giving of Torah. By staying up all night, we atone for this lapse of our ancestors, and demonstrate our appreciation of revelation and our eagerness to recommit ourselves again and again to Torah.

Rituals and Customs
There is a custom on Shavuot to eat dairy foods, such as cheese blintzes (or nowadays, cheesecake). This custom is of uncertain origin; perhaps it is an ancient echo of the agricultural seasons when in the early summer the calves and kids would be old enough to wean, so there would be plenty of milk for the farmers. Another explanation suggests that Torah is like milk and honey (see Song of Songs 4:11).

There is a beautiful Sephardic custom of erecting a chuppa (bridal canopy) over the lectern on which Torah is read on Shavuot and honoring recently married couples. The custom extends from the notion that Shavuot is like a wedding between YHVH (the groom) and Israel (the bride), with Torah serving as the Ketubah- (marriage contract). Special Shavuot ketubot are also written and read.

It has often been asked why Shavuot is known as "the season of the giving of our Torah," when perhaps it's more important for us to recall that not only did YHVH give Torah to Israel, but that we freely accepted and committed ourselves to it. Shavuot, then, becomes not only Z'man Matan Toratenu - the time of the giving of our Torah, but also Z'man Kabbalat Toratenu - the time of the accepting of our Torah. The giving of Torah is an historical event that happened just once. But the acceptance of Torah by individuals is a continual process that happens every day, anytime a person makes a decision based on Torah values, wholeheartedly recites a prayer, or makes a conscious effort to better the world. Each and every experience of our lives provides us with a new context to learn and understand Torah and put it into action in our lives. This is progressive revelation. We were given Torah just once, thus allowing for this yearly anniversary of Shavuot. But we "accept" Torah continually, allowing us to live a renewed life every day.

D’var Torah: 'The Nature of Shavuot'
Tonight's celebration of Tikkun Leyl Shavuot begins the Torah's harvest festival of Hag Hakatzir also known as Hag Habikurim, the festival of first fruits. Shavuot, like all three pilgrimage festivals, began as an agricultural holiday. Passover celebrated the barley harvest of spring, Shavuot--the wheat and first fruits of early summer, and Sukkot--the final harvest of autumn. But Shavuot is something of an oddity because it lacks the historical component of Sukkot and Passover. According to the Torah, the harvest booths also commemorate the wandering of our ancestors in the wilderness, and the ceremonial food of matza reminds us of our slavery and our redemption from Egypt.

There is no explanation given in the Torah as to the meaning or historical significance of Shavuot, nor how it is to be observed ritually. That is why there is nothing we really have to 'do' on Shavuot. There is nothing we 'have to' eat, like the ritual food of matza. Yes, eating dairy foods is customary, but it is a tradition more like latkes or hamantashen. It is not a prescribed ritual like shaking the lulav. The Torah simply commands us to count fifty days from Passover (the exact start day is unclear) and offer a special sacrifice of two loaves of bread.
Shavuot is not assigned a specific date in the Torah. The sages reasoned that surely Shavuot must fit into the same paradigm as the other two biblical festivals of Sukkot and Pesach, and also must have a historical component. The Rabbis further saw themselves as the legitimate heirs to the Temple and priestly leadership. Instead of sacrifices, Torah learning must be at the centre. How could there not be a holiday to acknowledge the giving of the Torah?

Now remarkably, the giving of the Torah (or more precisely- the giving of the Ten Commandments) has no holiday associated with it! (The Rabbis conveniently blur the distinction between the Giving of the Ten Commandments with the Giving of the Two Stone Tablets with the Giving of the Torah- although all three are separate events.) Depending on when you start counting, Shavuot can fall on different days (luckily the actual start date according to the Torah is somewhat ambiguous). To make this work, Shavuot was determined to fall on the sixth day of the third month, (Sivan) by counting fifty days from the second day of Passover. And using some creative reckoning, the Rabbis were able to calculate that the theophany of Sinai coincided with the sixth day of the third month, transforming Shavuot from a holiday wholly rooted in the world of nature into the commemoration of a 'historical' event and the most abstract and cerebral of our holidays: 'Zman matan Torateinu, the holiday of Giving the Torah.' Since three months after leaving Egypt, and before they set out to wander in the desert, the Israelites found themselves camped out at the base of Mt. Sinai, awaiting the revelation of YHVH's teachings, the Rabbis were able to determine that Revelation coincides with Shavuot. While Shavuot had no 'historical' event associated with it in the Torah, and the event of Revelation had no holiday to mark it, and both do not have actual dates in the Torah, it was, as Tevye would say, 'a perfect match.'

Shavuot becomes the 'historical' holiday of Revelation and its transformation from holiday of nature to holiday of Torah was complete, and not a moment too soon. The agricultural roots (so to speak) of Shavuot probably sufficed for the agrarian society of ancient Israel while they lived in the Promised Land; they didn't really allow for a meaningful holiday for Jews once they were outside the Land of Israel, where farming was on a different cycle and there was no Temple to which one could bring the seasonal offerings. In exile, the agricultural holiday of Shavuot would have withered on the vine. (Parenthetically, in Israel, some kibbutzim tried to revive the natural, harvest theme of the holiday.) Like much of Judaism and modern, urban life, Shavuot became severed from its natural roots. Together with losing our connection to the land of Israel, we have become disconnected from the natural world.

Judaism has a deep respect for nature, and sees nature as YHVH's handiwork. And tradition commands us to respect and guard the environment and natural resources. But we do not worship nature. According to the Torah, YHVH is the creator of the natural world (and this is but one reason we should take good care of it). At the same time, the Torah reflects a discomfort with nature that may have originally been to distance itself from older pagan religious traditions. It is not nature itself that is somehow unwelcome in our belief, but the sacralization of nature that is often found in pantheism (that all of nature and the universe itself are worthy of religious reverence). While we might see YHVH in nature, YHVH is not nature. The Torah makes a clear distinction between YHVH and nature that is often blurred by many of us who see the Divine in the wonder of nature. Nature is for many of us an opening to sense the awe and majesty of creation. Usually the more we learn about the natural world around us, the more we are deeply moved by its beauty, complexity, variety and order. Notwithstanding Judaism's ambivalence, we still feel that nature connects us to the Divine, like at the Grand Canyon, or when contemplating the night sky. But do we learn religious lessons from nature?

If I can paraphrase Rabbi Heschel's description of Shabbat, when we turn from the world of Creation to the Creation of the world, should we return to Shavuot's origins as an agricultural holiday, and turn from the Nature of Revelation to the Revelation of Nature? The Revelation of Nature is often called Natural Theology, and refers to what we can learn about YHVH from the natural world, without recourse to revealed texts. Surely creation reveals YHVH as much as the Bible. Isn't nature a kind of book that YHVH has written? The most famous and often quoted example of Natural Theology describes YHVH as a kind of cosmic watchmaker. The early nineteenth century theologian Rev. William Paley wrote that someone crossing a heath and finding a brass watch with all its finely machined cogs and gears would conclude that the complexity of its design points to the existence of a watchmaker (Natural Theology, 1802). Paley saw the intricate design of life as proof of the Creator and proponents of Creationism, now re-christened 'Intelligent Design' still try to use this argument. Two thousand years earlier the rabbis used a similar analogy: if we see a palace, we assume the existence of an architect.
Today, however, instead of instilling religious wonder, the appreciation of nature's intricacies has become the domain of science. And even though at some point in the career of every scientist there comes a moment of wonder on the encounter with yet another seeming miracle of life, such awe is not a welcome part of science. Natural theology has largely been discredited. Fifty years after Paley, Charles Darwin guessed otherwise and explained that evolution worked by descent with modification through random variation and natural selection. Richard Dawkins' rebuttal, titled 'The Blind Watchmaker' argues that there is in fact no need for a designer. Work in the fields of emergent complexity, chaos theory and evolutionary biology are determining more and more how life has created 'something from nothing.' Of course, proving that there is no need to believe in YHVH doesn't prove that there is no YHVH. But it certainly makes you think. If the world is not a product of 'directed' design as neo-Darwinists argue, and YHVH is not the designer, is there no plan? Are we accidents of history? Does the universe have no meaning? As Elisha ben Avuya, the Talmud's most famous apostate decided, 'There is no Judge, and there is no justice.' I understand that I don't have to believe that YHVH created the world, but I have to believe in YHVH if there is to be morality.

Better to rely on Torah than our study of the natural world, warned a 19th century orthodox rabbi: Even though in truth it were better for us to strive to know YHVH through the wonders of nature, in any event, were the weakness of our understanding not enough, whoever depended solely on this route, is in danger of stumbling, and falling into the trap of denying the belief in a Creation at all, and other true beliefs; ... [for] "the words of the Living YHVH are more trustworthy than the testimony of earth and heaven."

Although the study of Torah can deepen our appreciation of the natural world, meditating on the natural world may not always bring us to a deeper understanding of Torah or of the Creator. On Shabbat we remember two themes: zikaron lema'aseh breishit, Creation and zecher liy'tzi'at mitzrayim, the Exodus and the Revelation at Sinai. Like Shabbat, Shavuot needs these two poles. Religion without nature often places humanity apart from nature (or at the centre of creation). Nature without religion has no moral compass. This is why the Nature of Shavuot is not enough. We also need the revelation of Torah. This is the message of Shavuot. That there are answers to the questions: What is the right way to live? Does my life have meaning? How can I have a relationship with the Divine?

Nature and religion need each other. Our challenge is to bridge nature and religion not with Natural Theology, but with what Ian Barbour has called a theology of nature. We must ask how a scientific view of nature is related to the divine as understood from the religious experience of a historical community. Like Barbour, we must try to navigate a middle ground that finds a spiritual message within a scientific approach. Our new worldview must be evolutionary, historical, and emergent. How does this affect our theology? YHVH is no longer directing history. Quantum indeterminacy and undirected mutations means that YHVH is the source not only of order but also of novelty. Creation is no longer a one time event by divine order, but a process. Creation is still unfolding and the universe is unfinished. This must mean that we too have a part in its completion. This idea is symbolized on Shavuot, by bringing lechem bikkurim, new wheat made into bread. The Midrash states that YHVH created wheat instead of bread, to show that people are partners with YHVH in creation. Our task is to repair the world. What began exclusively as a holiday of nature has been turned into the very essence of living Torah: the giving of the Torah and the repair of the world.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Parashat Bamidbar - the Haftara

Bamidbar - the Haftara
Hosea 2:1-22
Reading date: 23rd May 2009 – 29th Iyyar 5769

Our Highlighted Haftara Text
The Israelites should make camp in division, each person under his banner. (Num. 1:52)

To receive Torah, we have to be true to ourselves.

We begin a new book this Shabbat: the fourth book of Numbers, or Bamidbar. The book of Numbers is a hodge-podge of narrative, legislation, and genealogy, lacking the sweeping grandeur of Genesis, the theology of Exodus, or the literary consistency of Deuteronomy. The Hebrew title means 'in the wilderness' and tells the story of the Israelites' wandering in the desert. The English name, 'Numbers' (and Greek name 'Arithmoi') reflect the statistical material which opens the book. The first two chapters include a census counting the Israelites with the names of the heads of each tribe and their numbers. The parasha continues with a description of the Levites' roles and responsibilities, and instructions for dismantling and carrying the Mishkan, called here the Ark of the Covenant (Aron Ha'eidut) instead of the usual term used, 'ohel moed' (Num. 1:1).

The five books of the Torah are approximately similar lengths, so we tend to think that they cover the same time spans as well. But consider the 'internal clock' of the five books. Not counting the 'seven days' of Creation, Genesis covers 2309 years, Exodus 140 years. The whole book of Leviticus takes place in only 8 DAYS! (Numbers spans 39 years, and Deuteronomy 5 weeks.) So even though the events described at Sinai were read months ago, as we open the book of Bamidbar, we are only 8 days since the close of the book of Exodus.

In the parasha, where are we, exactly, in terms of time? Our weekly portion begins, "On the first day of the second month of the second year following the exodus from Egypt." In other words, the book of Numbers begins 13 months after the actual exodus. That means that the first anniversary of the exodus has already passed, and it is a bit surprising that the book begins a month after the first Pesach without any acknowledgement of that special anniversary of the Israelites' liberation. We have to turn ahead to chapter nine in Parashat Beha'alotecha, where we read: "Adonai spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai on the first new moon of the second year ..." with instructions on how to celebrate their first real Passover in freedom. (This serves as the proof text for Rashi's view: ain mukdam um'uchar batorah; the Torah need not be read chronologically). Even the book of Numbers is uneven. Although the book spans 38 years, the first five parashiyot occur within the space of a few months, then 38 years are skipped over and the events of the last few months and weeks of the fortieth year are described.

But the book of Numbers is not pre-occupied with time; rather it is concerned with space. Along with the census, the book begins with a description on the arrangement of the Israelite camp. And the geographical space of Bamidbar sets the tone for the whole book. Perhaps as much as the slavery in Egypt, the Israelites' wandering in the wilderness formed their character. Just like literary pathetic fallacy (where the weather reflects the mood of the character), it seems that the Israelites were wandering through both a spiritual and geographic wilderness. When we talk about the 'desert' (as in the Sinai desert, or the Negev desert), we should not have an image of the Sahara's sand dunes; the landscapes of Israel's desert wilderness (midbar) are barren and rocky as well as sandy. Wandering in the desert (or wilderness) is a common literary/religious metaphor.

The newly freed slaves had just left Egypt, the most sophisticated ancient civilization, yet it was in the wilderness that they receive the Torah. Even though Egypt was the intellectual and cultural centre of the time, it was not the source for the Israelite's moral code. The Torah is given to the Israelites in the wilderness at Sinai, not from even from the holy city of Jerusalem and the Temple mount. The Rabbis see much significance in the fact that the Torah was received in the wilderness. Because the Torah is open and accessible to all, as it is said (Isa. 55:1), "let everyone who is thirsty come for water" (i.e. Torah). I find this image of Torah as water in the arid wilderness striking.

This connection between the wilderness and the Torah connects to the upcoming holiday of Shavuot. Normally, the regular weekly Torah readings do not coincide with the festivals; that is, we are not reading the book of Exodus during Passover, or the book of Numbers during Sukkot. (On the actual holiday itself, in fact, we interrupt the regular scheduled Shabbat portions with special holiday readings). And the regular reading around the time of each festival may shift from year to year. So it is remarkable that this week's portion of 'Bemidbar' is always read on the Shabbat before Shavuot. The Rabbis learn an additional lesson from this: "One should be as open as a wilderness to receive the Torah" (Nedarim 55a).

As this portion of Bemidbar is linked through the calendar to the giving of the Torah, the RIM (Rabbi Isaac Meir Rothenberg) sees one more lesson in the phrase, 'each person under his banner' (1:52). Each person must be in their proper place to receive the Torah. We don't have to try to be someone else. Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol taught: In the world to come, I will not be asked, ‘Why were you not Moshe Rabbenu?’ I will be asked, ‘Why were you not Zusya?’
To receive Torah, we have to be true to ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Parashat Behar - Bechukotai - the Haftara

Behar / Bechukotai - the Haftara
Jeremiah 16:19-17:14
Reading date: 16th May 2009 – 22nd Iyyar 5769

Our Highlighted Haftara Text
"O Hope of Israel (Mikveh Yisrael)!O Adonai, All who forsake You shall be put to shame,Those in the land who turn from You shall be doomed,For they have forsaken AdonaiThe Fount of living waters."Jeremiah 17:13

YHVH is both Israel's hope and the source for Divine purification.

Our third double portion in Leviticus, Behar-Bechukotai finally brings the book of Leviticus to a close, and we bid a fond adieu to the rules for the priests and the details of the sacrifices. Ashkenazim and Sephardim read slightly different verses from Jeremiah 32 when the portion Behar is read separately (6-27 and 6-22 respectively). But when the portions are combined, both communities read the haftara normally assigned for Bechukotai, Jeremiah 16:19-17:14.
This passage is a collection of various bits and pieces, as if Jeremiah's scribe Baruch collected some of his notes into one document. Leviticus ends with a series of curses tochecha and blessings, and Jeremiah also describes curses and blessings: "cursed be the person who trusts in people" and its corollary ("blessed are those who trust in the Eternal") 'Baruch hagever asher yivtach ba'adonai' (familiar from the Grace after Meals). The Haftara reinforces the Torah's emphasis on the importance of obedience to the Almighty and the covenant.

Jeremiah lived during the reign of King Josiah who restored the Temple order and instituted religious reforms after finding an ancient scroll believed to be the book of Deuteronomy. Some scholars identify Jeremiah as the author of the book of Deuteronomy. The Kingdom of Judah was caught in the crossfire between the superpowers of Egypt to the south and the Babylonians in the North. The Northern Kingdom of Israel had already been destroyed by the Assyrians in 721 BCE. Egypt marched through the land of Israel to attack Babylonia, and en route battled with the Israelites at Megiddo, killing Josiah. The Egyptians however were defeated by Nebuchadnezzar in 605 BCE, and Jerusalem came under Nebuchadnezzar's rule. In 586 BCE Jerusalem was razed and the Temple destroyed. The religious and political elite were exiled to Babylonia, but a remnant of the Jewish population fled to Egypt and took Jeremiah with them.
Looking at the Hebrew text of this weeks haftara I see it 17:13 contains the Scripture where we find Jeremiah calling YHVH, "Mikve Yisrael, The Hope of Israel." A mikva is a ritual bath; the root (k.v.h) refers to a pool of water, and is found in Genesis, when YHVH says, "yekavu hamayim, let the waters be gathered" (2:9). Here in Jeremiah, the word mikva (or mikve) is understood to mean 'hope' just like the word for Israel's national anthem from the same root, Hatikvah. (Mikve Israel was also the name of the first modern Jewish agricultural settlement (established in Holon, south of Tel Aviv and) founded by Charles Netter in June 15, 1870. Mikve Israel was the name of one of the oldest Jewish congregations (Philadelphia, 18th century) and is also a popular name for (usually Sephardic) synagogues.

If Mikva can mean both a pool of water, and hope, what is the connection between the two? In Israel, having a storehouse of collected rainwater would certainly mean one has hope. All through Israel one can find ancient cisterns that the Israelites carved out of rock. A pit without water would be a symbol of hopelessness, and Jeremiah would know- like Joseph, he was thrown into a muddy pit (Jer. 38: 6). It makes sense to call YHVH, Israel's hope (the way the verse is usually translated) but the verse continues, "Adonai, the Fount of Living Waters, M'kor Mayim Hayim." YHVH is also being compared to a pool of water. Jeremiah has used this water imagery for YHVH before, contrasting YHVH with the water of the Nile and the Euphrates.
For My people have forsaken Me, the Fount of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, which cannot even hold water... What then is the good of your going to Egypt, to drink the waters of the Nile? And what is the good of your going to Assyria, to drink the waters of the Euphrates? Jer. 2:13, 18

Jeremiah's use of the imagery of YHVH as mikva, used for ritual purification is the perfect ending for the book of Leviticus that focused on ritual purity. But what does it mean to say, YHVH is our 'mikvah'!? YHVH is both Israel's hope and the source for Divine purification.
At the end the last Mishnah for the tractate on Yom Kippur (Babylonian Talmud, Yomah 8:9), (a day that revolves around holiness and purity) Rabbi Akiva playing with these two meanings of mikva (ritual bath and hope) teaches: "Happy are you, Israel!Who is it before whom you purify? And who is it that purifies you?Your Parent which is in heaven, as it is said: "And I will sprinkle clean water upon you and you shall be clean." (Ezek. 36:25). And it further says: "Adonai, the Hope of Israel." Just as the mikva renders clean the unclean, so does the Holy Blessed One, render Israel clean."

Akiva asks two questions: Who is it ... you purify? And who ... purifies you? It is not clear who is doing the purifying. The two questions suggest that there are two aspects to purification; something we do and something YHVH does. We can clean our bodies by going to the mikva, but only YHVH can clean our souls. According to the text Reishit Chochmah, the mikva contains something essential of YHVH, and just as we immerse our bodies in the water, at the same time our souls must 'cleave' to YHVH. The Shiloh (Isaiah Horowitz) suggests that purification of the body only makes one tahor (pure), while separating oneself from transgressions makes one both tahor and kadosh.

With its emphasis on purity, it is easy to overlook Leviticus' central message: to live a life that is holy. Recalling this image of ever-present water, Jeremiah describes the person who trusts in Adonai, "They shall be like a tree planted near water, sinking its roots by a stream, never noticing when the heat comes, its leaves green, careless of times of drought, never failing to bear fruit" (17:8).

Shabbat Shalom

Friday, May 8, 2009

Parashat Emor - the haftara

Emor - the Haftara
Ezekiel 44:15-31
Reading date: 9th May 2009 – 15th Iyyar 5769


Our Highlighted Haftara Text
"Now the levitical priests descended from Zadok, who maintained the service of My Sanctuary when the people of Israel went astray from Me- they shall approach Me to Minister to Me; they shall stand before Me to offer Me fat and blood-- declares the Lord Adonai." Ezekiel 44:15

Judaism is an evolving, historical conversation between humanity and the Divine.
This week's parasha Emor begins with the laws concerning the priesthood and the restrictions and limitations that govern a priest's behavior. The parasha also contains a list of the biblical holy days. The parasha concludes with a brief, enigmatic story about a blasphemer, and the famous 'eye for an eye' law (lex talionis) law is repeated (see also Ex. 21:23 and Deut. 19:21).
Normally Ezekiel uses vivid imagery and metaphors (the famous passage: the valley of the dry bones, for example, is read on Passover) and he often describes complex mystical visions of chariots and cherubs. Here however, while Ezekiel envisions a time when the Temple will be restored, the haftara sounds more like Torah (with an almost mundane description of their activities and clothing, and rules about their conduct) than the typical prophetic passage.

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 conquered by the Assyrians over a hundred years earlier (722 BCE), have disappeared from history, notwithstanding the fairly discredited attempts to identify various ethnic groups with the missing 'Ten Lost Tribes.'

The bulk of the book of Leviticus is about sacrificial offerings (korbanot) and the priesthood. And those of us who need to write about Leviticus always struggle with the topic. Do we turn it into a metaphor or treat it as "ambivalent historic memory- a 'we used to find meaning' kind of thing?" Or do we find some other topic that is mentioned parenthetically? For example, this week I could talk about the role of hair in society (the priest needed to keep his hair trimmed and tidy, or the Cohen's clothing (a linen-wool blend forbidden to lay people, called 'sha'atnez').

But if I don't want to avoid the issue, the real question that Ezekiel's description of the rebuilt Temple prompts is, do we want the Third Temple rebuilt, and should we? Many of the prophets who lived after the destruction of King Solomon's Temple believed that the Temple would be rebuilt, and their words were consolation to the exiles. The return to Zion and the rebuilding of the Temple were often mentioned together, and while the former has come true in our lifetime, the latter has not. There are serious political and pragmatic difficulties with building the Third Temple on the site of the present Al Aksa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock!

But not everyone thinks this is just poetry. Undeterred by the physical and historical realities, today there exist (Jewish and Christian) zealous messianic groups (such as the Temple Mount Faithful in Jerusalem) that are actively preparing for the day (coming soon, we hope) when the Temple will be restored, and the Temple service, as described by the Torah and Ezekiel will be reinstituted. They are busy building the artifacts for the Temple so we'll be ready, and even though they are basing their efforts on the Torah's descriptions, there are technical terms whose meaning scholars do not understand, materials we do not have, and measurements that we are not sure of. (The fact that Ezekiel's regulations contradicts with the Torah's version is problematic, but a separate issue).

And in case you think praying for the sacrifices is only for extremists, even your not so radical, average, moderate, modern Jew prays for the restoration of the Temple every day.
According to the Rabbis, after the destruction of the Temple, prayer (avodah shebalev- the service of the heart) replaces the sacrifices. But the question is: does it permanently replace it (a la Maimonides) or is it a temporary substitute while we nostalgically remember the incense and the blood on the altar. Many rabbis use the 'gradual approach': the Israelites were accustomed to pagan practice and weren't yet sophisticated enough to understand abstract prayer so YHVH instituted korbanot as a 'concession'. Some use this same argument, for example, to suggest that the laws of Kashrut are really to wean us from meat, a kind of proto-vegetarianism. Others disagree: if YHVH had wanted us to pray- He would have commanded prayer. After all, there exist plenty of mitzvot that are hard to understand or difficult to perform. There is a secret spiritual component to the sacrifices that is now lost to us in the post-sacrificial reality (Ramban). Only because the Temple was destroyed do we pray today without the sacrifices. I think even Maimonides would have to admit, that if the Temple hadn't been destroyed, Judaism would still offer burnt offerings like the Samaritans (a group that split off from Judaism in the 4th century BCE.

Leviticus is about sacrifices, but what we believe about the sacrifices and the Temple cuts to the core of faith. Since YHVH doesn't change, and His Word doesn't change, some would like their walk to not change either. But history marches on, and hopefully our understanding matures. Either the earlier version of is perfect and shouldn't change, or it is an evolving, historical conversation between humanity and the Almighty.

Shabbat Shalom