By Rabbi Vernon Kurtz.
Living in Israel is living on an emotional rollercoaster. A few days before Simchat Torah this year we were all dreading the reliving of what happened on Simchat Torah, October 7, 2023. Then news came out of a possible ceasefire and the release of the hostages. Immediately, emotions changed from sadness to hopeful expectations. As the negotiations continued our hopes were raised and when the agreement was accepted by both sides there was relief and excitement here in Israel.
Hoshana Rabbah, the day before Shemini Atzeret in the Diaspora and Simchat Torah here in Israel, is a day of many emotions itself. On the one hand, it is placed during Sukkot, the Season of our Rejoicing, and, on the other, it is symbolically the end of the period of the High Holy Days with its awe and majesty. As Bryna and I went to a Masorti synagogue that morning for the service we were awaiting the news of the release of the 20 living hostages. As I wrote Rabbi Schwab, exactly at 8 am when it was reported that the first 7 hostages were being released the Hazzan uttered the words in the Amidah “Matir Asurim,” “He who releases those who are confined.” It was quite an emotional moment and our Hallel and Hoshanot prayers were filled with joyous singing.
We spent that afternoon glued to our television set. It was a split screen. On one side, we witnessed the release of the living hostages and when possible, the reunions with their families. They had endured 2 years of torture and through our prayers, demonstrations and concern we felt they were part of our immediate families. On the other side of the screen was the special session of the Knesset at which President Trump was extolled and during which he delivered his speech. While in the United States there are many people who marched in “No Kings” demonstrations criticizing the President and his policies, here in Israel he could easily be crowned king as each speaker, newspaper editorial and television commentator praised his leadership in releasing the hostages and in working towards a ceasefire.
Simchat Torah 5786 was filled with celebration and joyous singing and dancing. It had been our custom at our Masorti synagogue, Ma’ayanot, to select appropriate songs to recall the events of Simchat Torah 5783 and those taken hostage for the first 3 hakafot and only then to proceed with the joy of the Simchat Torah festival. That was our plan this year as well. However, as circumstances changed the decision was made to recall past events only during one hakafa and immediately proceed to the joyous singing and dancing.
Since that day, only a week ago, there is now much anxiety. Hamas has not returned all the captured deceased hostages and has broken the ceasefire several times. In fact, only this week two Israeli soldiers were killed, both from Modiin. One of the soldiers had attended my grandson Shmuli’s high school Yeshiva and prayed at the synagogue where one of Shmuli’s closest friends prays. He was also the brother-in-law of a family in which there are twins who are friends with one of our granddaughters, Anael. We are a small country and all of us are really part of one large mishpacha.
As I write these words, I am cautiously hopeful and yet filled with anxiety. We need the ceasefire to stick, for some of the soldiers to return to their homes, families, businesses and study programs and we expect the terrorist organization Hamas to live up to the agreement (that may be too much to ask for). As you know, Jewish life has changed for you as well. We need time for healing, a period during which we can plan for a bright future for the Jewish people here in Israel around the world and, at the same time, be able to confront those wish to harm us by word, deed and political means.
Towards the conclusion of Parshat Noah, Terach and his family leave Ur of the Chaldees on their way to the land of Canaan. Next week in Parshat Lech Lecha we will read about Abram and Sarai’s continuation of that journey as they make their way to the Promised Land. Bryna and I feel privileged to have followed in their footsteps and to make our home here in the Jewish State.
As we begin the period known here as “Acharei HaHagim,” “After the holidays,” we pray that this year be one filled with hope, peace, blessings and Beosort Tovot, good tidings for all.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
The most important day for New Year’s resolutions is January 2nd. Not January 1st.
On New Year’s Day, we may have resolved to do something better, like going to the gym more. We may have even exercised because work and school were canceled. But what happens on January 2nd? When work and school resume and you have to squeeze the workout into your busy day? To create the habit, you have to make it happen, not wait for it to happen. What happens on January 2nd is a better indicator of the year ahead than January 1st.
In about four days we’ll gather to celebrate Simchat Torah. We all know that as soon as we finish the Torah we begin anew with Genesis. Mere minutes later! Our reflex is that learning Torah never ends: no matter how old we are or how many times we’ve heard it, the Torah always offers something new. We seek to turn that value into a habit, which is why we start the Torah over on the same day.
Why does Sukkot, which concludes with Simchat Torah, occur now? Haven’t we been in shul enough over Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur? Why not celebrate Sukkot in another month without any holidays?
I believe the answer is because Sukkot is like January 2nd. Together, the High Holidays mark not only the beginning of the year but a clean wiping of the slate. Sukkot offers the opportunity to start the year on the right foot and create the right habits: with Mitzvot, with joining as community in shul, with joining friends and family for quality time in the Sukkah. It’s the logical follow up to the High Holidays because Sukkot emphasizes what we think about on the High Holidays: relationships, community, and G-d.
May the hostages return home very soon, as reports indicate. That would absolutely elevate our joy this holiday.
Chag Sameach.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenbeg.
During this 10th anniversary year of Hamilton: An American Musical, I can’t help but hear the following lyrics in my ear right now: “who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” These lyrics are so evocative of the end of Unetane Tokef, one of the most powerful texts in our High Holiday liturgy. Recited on both days of Rosh Hashanah as well as Yom Kippur in the repetition of the Musaf Amida, we recite these words, which speak of the sacred power of these holiest days of the year. God is the True Judge who remembers each of us, God willing, by inscribing us into the Book of Life.
And yet, while it is written on Rosh Hashana and sealed on Yom Kippur, nobody knows their ultimate fate, as there is only so much we can control.
The text continues: “How many will pass on, and how many will be born; who will live and who will die…” And what follows is a list, an unbalanced list of dark possibilities with hopeful opportunities, a list of what destiny has the potential to bring to any of us at any time.
But we should not live our life in fear of death. Rather, we should live our lives thinking of how we ultimately want to be remembered, both by the Divine and by those whose lives we impacted. Who will tell your story? What will you do to seal unforgettable memories into the hearts of your colleagues, your friends, your family?
While that open-ended question is full of endless possibilities, our prayer concludes with three very specific ways that we can accomplish this task of who will tell our story, the task of how we want to be remembered: “But T’shuvah, Te’fillah, and Tz’dakah have the power to transform the harshness of our destiny.” Through improving ourselves, through prayer, through righteous giving, we have the ability to be remembered by how we lived rather than how we died.
One of our beautiful supplementary texts in the Machzor Lev Shalem by Leonard Gordon shares the following about this part of this prayer: “We are not praying to be spared and ending in death. We are not even asking that death be postponed. Rather, after reminding ourselves relentlessly of the many ways that life might end, we tell ourselves that the way to cope with ultimate vulnerability is through T’shuvah, Te’fillah, and Tz’dakah. Our goal is not security, but a life of meaning that recognizes our vulnerability but rises beyond it.”
To quote another lyric from Hamilton: “Raise a glass to freedom.” We say “L’chayyim” to the freedom of choice that we have in our short time on earth. Let us all choose a life of meaning through the acts listed above, as well as many more actions we can take to create meaningful experiences and memories for ourselves and others.
May we all strive to live our lives with these questions in mind: Who will tell your story? And what will they say?
May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life, b’sefer chayyim.
G’mar Chatima Tova
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
In the name of Rabbi Jonathan Posner, in the name of Rabbi Abi Weber, in the name of Rabbi Danny Nevins, I recount to you the following story (joke):
Marty and Seymour are sitting on a park bench the day after Rosh HaShanah. Seymour pulls out a big sandwich, and Marty says, “Seymour! What are you doing?! It’s Tzom Gedalia!” Seymour turns to Marty and says, “Ya know Marty, I ask myself: Who was this Gedalia anyway? And would he have fasted for me?” While Marty was considering what to say in response, Seymour continued, “Besides, I don’t fast on Yom Kippur – so why would I fast on Tzom Gedalia?”
It’s a silly joke. And, precluding any health concerns, I do hope you all take the fast of Yom Kippur seriously in whatever way you are able. But I’ve often felt like Seymour. It’s the day after Rosh HaShanah, and I’ve worked my tuchus off hosting, cooking, davening, walking to and from shul — how could the rabbinic powers that be possibly insist on a calendar that places a fast day immediately after such an intense two days.
Another joke — perhaps this helps us reset after some hefty holiday meals?
No, the fast of Gedalia would have to be deeper than some kind of misguided diet plan. As Seymour asked himself: Who was Gedalia anyway?
After the Babylonians destroyed the first Temple in Jerusalem, they showed just a little mercy to some Jews remaining in Judea. They allowed the Jews to stay and appointed a righteous Jew as their governor. That was Gedalia ben Achikam. Jews who had escaped to nearby places chose to return and join Gedalia’s contingent. Gedalia believed that cooperation and subservience to their Babylonian conquerors would yield the safest results for the Jews living under his governance. But not everyone felt that way.
I think, in today’s world of rising antisemitism, it’s actually quite understandable that some Jews still seek to be accepted by society around them by being “good Jews” according to the values of the time. Others most certainly, and also understandably, have learned not to trust the ruling powers of any given time or place to protect them when the going gets tough. They hold onto their Jewish pride and values, even when it may strain the relationships with those beyond the Jewish community.
Though we ought to find in ourselves empathy for our fellow Jews who may respond differently to the realities at hand, we also should pride ourselves on how we hold disagreement with each other. Because the story of Gedalia continues.
One Jewish man, Ishmael ben Netania, who was deeply disturbed by Gedalia’s allegiance to the Babylonians and was jealous of Gedalia’s political power took it upon himself to stage a coup. He, along with 10 others, assassinated Gedalia and many other Jews and Babylonians who were with him at a communal meal. In the aftermath of this assassination, the Jews in Judea were afraid of the retaliation that may come. They consulted Jeremiah with a plan to flee to Egypt – where we are famously not supposed to return post-Exodus! Jeremiah appeals to God, and on Yom Kippur is answered that the Jews should stay, and all will be well. He warns the Jews that if they flee to Egypt, the Babylonians will eventually find them there.
Alas, they didn’t listen. They fled, and kidnapped Jeremiah to take him with them. And when Babylonians came to conquer Egypt, Jeremiah was the only one who survived.
The resonance of this story in our time is deep. Whether you were a fan of Charlie Kirk or vehemently disagreed with him, his assassination was without a doubt morally reprehensible. The aftermath of this sort of violence can only lead to more harm in the short term, before healing can come.
So why do we mark the fast right after Rosh HaShanah? We know that it happened in Tishrei from the biblical sources, and that it had to be between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur based on Jeremiah’s appeal to HaShem. The Rabbis in the Talmud assign it to the 3rd of Tishrei. I assume they didn’t want to fast twice in the same 7-day period, nor take away from the joy of any of the holidays.
But all these centuries later, why do we still observe this obscure fast day? Because Zechariah insists that it is still important when asked by those Jews who returned from the Babylonian exile centuries later. And the lessons we learn from this story are still very important today.
First, we learn that the death of a righteous person is as tragic (or more) than the destruction of the physical Temple building.
Second, we learn that destruction and violence only begets more destruction. The assassination of Gedalia ultimately led to the full exile of the Jews from Judea, whereas under his governance, some Jews remained in the land.
And third, we learn that in times of distress, we must be prudent and cautious with our actions, and we should look to God for guidance. Perhaps more importantly, when we turn to God for answers, we must be willing to accept those answers even if they don’t align with our initial thinking.
As for Seymour’s second question – would Gedalia fast for you? I’m inclined to say, yes.
So for all those fasting, Tzom Kal – an easy fast. And for those just hearing about this for the first time: I hope today is given a little extra meaning, and another opportunity for reflection in these 10 days of Teshuva.
Dear Friends,
I am writing you this note from Jerusalem to wish you and yours a healthy, happy and peaceful 5786. May we all be written in the Book of Life, Good Health and Peace.
I also wanted to update you concerning our family and the situation here in Israel. Thank God, we are personally all well. The biggest change in the family is that our oldest grandson, Hadassa and Haim’s son, Shmuli graduated high school. Three weeks ago, he began the Hesder Yeshiva program which combines Yeshiva study with army service. It is a five-year program encompassing both serious Yeshiva study and service in the IDF.
As to the situation here in Israel, the best I can say is that it remains quite challenging. Our hostages remain in the tunnels of Hamas and each day, it is believed, their situation worsens. We continue to pray for their immediate release. Our soldiers are serving on the borders of Israel and in the major areas of the country protecting us each day. Our army still finds itself in Gaza preparing for serious battles which may claim many lives on both sides and families throughout Israel are attempting to cope with loss, injury and reserve duty which puts a great strain on family dynamics and well-being.
Only a few days ago sirens sounded in Jerusalem as a missile was launched from Yemen. We were forced to descend three flights from our apartment to our building’s shelter and wait for the all clear signal before we could return to the apartment. The terrorist action at the bus station in Ramot reminded us of the dangers present here and another terrorist action hit very close to home. Last Friday there was a stabbing at Kibbutz Tzuba. One of those injured was Nadav Garr, son of Yossi Garr (whom many of you know from Nativ) and grandson of Rabbi Ronnie and Minda Garr (whom many of you know from Camp Ramah in Wisconsin). Thankfully, Nadav is well and being released from the hospital. The family was present at the Kibbutz for an extended family brunch commemorating the Yahrzeits of Minda’s parents. We are neighbors and very close friends of Ronnie and Minda so it has shaken us up as well.
I don’t need to relate the geopolitical issues now facing Israel, you are all acquainted with them. It looks to be a very challenging year ahead.
We are continuously updated concerning the rising anti-Semitism occurring across the United States and Canada and, of course, in many other places around the world. I listened on zoom to the Federation annual meeting last week and heard the speech of Lonnie Nasatir outlining the many challenges that are currently being presented to the Chicagoland Jewish Community. I pray that you and your families are safe and remain so.
I do wish you to know that life goes on here in Israel. The cafes are full, the streets teeming with people, there is music, dance, art and serious study occurring in all parts of the country. We are very resilient and will remain so in the future.
We must never forget that we are a people of hope. It Is not by chance that the national anthem of Israel is “Hatikva”. It is part of our inner beings to pray for peace and pursue it. We are an eternal people and we will overcome those who wish to destroy us, once again.
I thank all of you who continue to reach out to us concerned with our welfare. I look forward to welcoming those of you who plan to visit Israel and show your personal support for the country and our people. I am grateful for all you do assist us – financially, politically and spiritually. Keep it up.
I continue to teach courses for the Schechter Institute here in Jerusalem on zoom. I am so pleased to study with many of you on Sunday mornings, Chicago time. If you are interested in learning with me the information is found in the Continuing Education brochure. You can also turn to Rachel Kamin for details.
There is a piyyut, a religious poem, that is found in many of the Selichot prayer services here in Israel. It states: “May the year and its curses end; may the new year and its blessings begin.” This is my prayer for you and yours personally and for all of us collectively.
May we share many blessings in 5786. Shana Tova to all of you from me and Bryna.
Rabbi Vernon Kurtz
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
A couple of years ago, a colleague saw a beautiful Torah cover with Hebrew text with which she was unfamiliar. Upon asking me, I knew exactly where it came from, as I sang this verse years ago in a beautiful choral piece with the Zamir Chorale back in New York. The verse comes from our weekly parasha, Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:15, “Look down from Your holy abode, from heaven, and bless Your people Israel and the soil You have given us, a land flowing with milk and honey, as You swore to our fathers.”
When I think of this verse in the Hebrew, I cannot help but be reminded of the choral setting of this text, which, musically speaking, spanned a wide range of notes, from low to high, from high to low. This is a musical example of word painting, a graphic and vivid description, either in music or writing, that creates a strong image or feeling for its audience. This verse from Ki Tavo spans the spaces from heaven, where God dwells, to earth, the land from which our milk and honey flows. Music aside, the poetic word painting within this verse is quite powerful on its own.
This text reminds us of many things, in particular, the location of the Divine in our lives. God surrounds us, Bashamayim, in heaven. God also dwells among us, in all of our holy places and life experiences. And God dwells within us, as we are all created B’tzelem Elohim, in God’s image.
On this 24th anniversary of 9/11/01, I can’t help but count my blessings. God’s presence in my life on that otherwise sunny Tuesday morning while studying at JTS in New York, was one that brought me great support in a very scary and challenging time. The power of the Divine in our lives can be very palpable, especially at the most difficult of life’s moments.
Let us all remember the lives tragically lost on that fateful Tuesday morning. May we not forget the blessings in our lives 24 years later. I wish for all of us that the evil of this world will be erased by the good, and that we can continue to find meaningful relationships with God beyond us, around us, and within ourselves.
Shabbat Shalom.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
The very end of this week’s parasha, Ki Teitzei, calls on us to remember – and never forget – what Amalek did to us in the desert when we were leaving Egypt. At Beth El, we have a Torah which was rescued from the Holocaust displayed in a glass case outside the sanctuary. This scroll is rolled to this very passage. In addition to reading it at the end of this week’s parasha we read it every year on the Shabbat preceding Purim – Shabbat Zachor.
You may wonder why out of the entire Torah, do we read this passage twice? Or perhaps it’s curious that out of all the passages we might have used in displaying our rescued scroll, we highlight this passage.
It reads, “Remember what Amalek did to you on the way, when you went out of Egypt, how he happened upon you on the way and cut off all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary, and he did not fear God. Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you respite from all your enemies around you in the land which the Lord, your God, gives to you as an inheritance to possess, you shall erase the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”
What Amalek did — attacking from the back — was morally repugnant. Targeting the weakest, the elderly, the sick, the children. It is, by definition, what we call “terrorism” today. It would be different, though still unfortunate, if Amalek had picked a fair fight and chose to battle the Israelites warriors instead. But this was not their tactic. And it says, “he did not fear God” which I understand to be a euphemism for “he acted with no reverence for morality.” Amalek didn’t care that it was wrong, he only cared that it was doable.
To erase the memory of Amalek and completely wipe them out is a bold and difficult command. I recall attending a shabbat morning study session where someone referred to this as a genocidal commandment, and expressed discomfort and aversion to the idea that a whole group should be erased in such a way. This person wasn’t defending the actions of the Amalekites in the desert, but wasn’t sure about collective punishment across generations.
One response to that discomfort is to point out that there is a timely element to the command – it is to happen “when God grants you respite from your enemies around you in the land…” Following that logic, and staying intentionally in biblical times, I direct you to the Haftarah for Shabbat Zachor, when Samuel the prophet instructs King Saul to massacre the Amalekites and put all of them, men, women, children, even the livestock to the sword. Samuel says that the time for fulfilling that command had come. Whether the modern reader would be on board is neither here nor there. This is the time to fulfill that command. What happens in this story is that King Saul only mostly does what he’s told. The best of the livestock, Saul wants to offer to God, and worse yet, he brings King Agag back alive. The story ends with Saul being stripped of the kingship, ultimately replaced by David.
Even more interesting is that Saul was from the tribe of Benjamin and is a direct blood relative of Mordechai from the Purim story. And Haman ben Ham’data haAgagi (The Agag-ite) is descendent of King Agag. The rivalry of these two men may well go back several centuries. On Purim, when the Jews were allowed to defend themselves, they did so. And in a way, Haman and his sons’ death is a moment when the command was finally fulfilled. All these years later, I don’t see any Amalekites, right?
The scroll we saved from the holocaust is open to this passage because the Nazis took on the mantle of Amalek. They sought our destruction, and did so by the most extreme and repugnant means – they did not fear God. And we are called upon to remember the holocaust, and also never forget. Just as we are commanded to remember what Amalek did when we first left Egypt and never forget. Just like every year on Purim we remember what Haman tried and failed to do, and we never forget. It’s devastating that we still see neo-nazis in our country, and face holocaust denial among the many forms of Antisemitism that plague the world today.
Amalek was a person, then a nation and now Amalek is more like a way of being in the world. It’s any ideology which seeks destruction by any means necessary, with no regard for the sanctity of human life, or engaging in a “fair fight”. On October 7th, 2023, Hamas took a page right out of the Amalek playbook. And the other major form of antisemitism we find today is the myriad people defending Hamas’s tactics as “justified resistance” or “contextualized.” So once again, we’re called on to remember. Remember the 48 remaining hostages who need to be returned. And never forget. Never forget the many lives taken too soon on that day and the days since. In the aftermath of that day, I understand why this passage is read twice each year, and is displayed as it is. It was a long time ago, when we first left Egypt and Amalek attacked. Yet, we remember. We haven’t forgotten, and we will never forget.
By Rabbi Vernon Kurtz.
Who is considered to be a wicked person? In this week’s Parsha of Korah we read of Korah’s rebellion against the leadership of Moses and Aaron. Most commentators suggest that he was interested in his own personal aggrandizement. He and his 250 followers are punished for their rebellion as the earth opens up and swallows them.
Midrash Tanhuma Korah section 8 extrapolates from Korah’s actions definitions of wickedness: “Four types of people are called wicked.”
The first is: “One who puts out his hand against his fellow to strike him, even if he does not actually do so.”
Think of the bully who threatens another, one who threatens members of the community or a dominant spouse who threatens his or her weaker counterpart.
To create fear in the heart or mind of another is seen as a form of wickedness by the Rabbis.
A second category is: “One who borrows and does not repay his debt.”This person is considered wicked because he betrays the trust that another puts in him as he loans him money. To betray another’s trust is portrayed as a form of wickedness.
A third is: “One who shows insolence and is not ashamed in the presence of one greater than himself.” This person has no respect for authority. This lack of respect in the family and community is seen as a form of wickedness.
The final category is: “One who is given to contentiousness.” This person sows the seeds of discord and conflict which may lead to enmity and hatred.
Korah and his comrades represented all four categories – they lacked respect for authority and trust in their fellow human being and they based their leadership on discord and threats.
We learn not only from the positive attributes of Biblical personalities but also from their failures. May we do better than Korah and establish families and societies based on the values of trust, respect and concern for one another.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
Sheldon Harnick, lyricist for the songs of the most iconic Jewish musical in Broadway history, wrote this beautiful poetic midrash on parashat Naso’s Priestly Blessing for the song, Sabbath Prayer, from Fiddler on the Roof:
May the Lord protect and defend you.
May He always shield you from shame.
May you come to be
In Israel a shining name.
May you be like Ruth and like Esther.
May you be deserving of praise.
Strengthen them, Oh Lord,
And keep them from the strangers’ ways.
May God bless you and grant you long lives.
(May the Lord fulfill our Sabbath prayer for you.)
May God make you good mothers and wives.
(May He send you husbands who will care for you.)
May the Lord protect and defend you.
May the Lord preserve you from pain.
Favor them, Oh Lord, with happiness and peace.
Oh, hear our Sabbath prayer. Amen.
As an M.O.T. (“Member Of the Tribe”), Harnick clearly knew his Torah, as this famous tri-fold blessing was quite familiar to him, having grown up very Jewishly-involved right here in Chicago. And I’m pretty confident that most of you didn’t read these lyrics, as you much more likely sung them, am I right? Thanks to Jerry Bock for this wonderful “earworm.”
Harnick’s lyrical interpretation of the original Torah text elaborates so beautifully on the themes within Num. 6:24-26, words that I say to my children every Friday night:
“May the Lord bless you and protect you! May the Lord deal kindly and graciously with you! May the Lord bestow God’s favor upon you and grant you peace!”
Shalom, as a final wish in this prayer, both the original verses and Harnick’s rendition, is the concluding theme of our morning Amidah each day, hence where we include the original verses within Birkat Shalom, the final prayer for peace.
May we all be blessed with all of the gifts this prayer asks for, in both iterations.
And let our wishes for a Shabbat Shalom have an extra special meaning this weekend.
Shabbat Shalom.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
The Haftarah for parashat Bamidbar is from the 8th century prophet Hosea. There are many metaphors to describe God’s relationship with the Israelites. On the High Holidays we grapple with Avinu Malkeinu – God as parent or sovereign while we are children or subjects. God is our master and we are God’s servants. God is our shepherd and we are God’s flock. In every case God is in the position of power and we are lower. The challenge with Hosea is that he leans into the metaphor of God as husband and Israel as wife. And in our modern, egalitarian society we see that relationship as an equal partnership (or at least I think we should). So this language can be fraught with discomfort among contemporary readers as God takes on the role of a betrayed lover. Israel’s idolatrous ways are compared to adultery and the sins of the people are considered an affront to God of the highest order. Other lovers symbolize other gods, and the children born of those lovers symbolize the abandonment of religious beliefs and practices.
In the Etz Hayim Chumash, the introduction to the haftarah reads, “Apostasy will not go unpunished, yet hope for the people Israel’s future is proclaimed from the outset, a sign that divine mercy transcends judgment for sin. The covenant, perverted by national sin, will be renewed for the straying people.”
Whether in a marriage, a relationship or even a platonic friendship, trust and communication are a necessary foundation. When a partner cheats, the pain of that betrayal can be world-shattering. And yet, even in all the hurt and the pain, I know of many who shared that they still felt love for the other. Not a blind, rose-colored denial but a disappointed, angry and sad recognition that the person they loved failed to live up to the person they thought they knew. How does God react?
First, God is justifiably angry. “Rebuke your mother, rebuke her–for she is not My wife and I am not her husband” The rebuke includes a natural desire to punish. “I will make her like a wilderness, render her like a desert and let her die of thirst.”
Then in verse 7, it’s as though God is trying to imagine why Israel would do this. “Because she thought, ‘I will go after my lovers, who supply my bread and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink.’” But God knows that however unsatisfied the people may have felt, there is no excuse for such behavior. And God knows that in truth, He can and does provide. In His self-righteousness, God says, “Pursue her lovers as she will, she shall not overtake them and seek them as she may, she shall never find them. Then she will say, ‘I will go and return to my first husband, for then I fared better than now.’ And she did not consider this: it was I who bestowed on her the new grain and wine and oil…”
Perhaps, in anguish, God gives in, just a little, to the more petty, vengeful feelings that arise. “Now will I uncover her shame in the very sight of her lovers, and none shall save her from Me…Thus I will punish her for the days of the Baalim, on which she brought them offerings; when, decked with earrings and jewels, she would go after her lovers, forgetting Me.”
But what I found the most incredible about God in this metaphor isn’t the anger, the pettiness, the self-righteousness – all of which are valid if you’ve ever experienced such betrayal. It’s how truly infinite God’s love and capacity for forgiveness can be. “Assuredly, I will speak coaxingly to her and lead her through the wilderness and speak to her tenderly. I will give her her vineyards from there, and the Valley of Achor as a plowland of hope.” Despite the hurt and the damage, God still sees a future with His people. “There she shall respond as in the days of her youth, when she came up from the land of Egypt. And in that day…you will call Me Ishi (lit. my husband) and no more will you call Me Baali (lit. my husband but also evoking Ba’al a Canaanite god).”
At the end of our Haftarah, we hear the famous verses that are recited as we wrap the tefillin around our hands. As we wrap our fingers, like a wedding ring, we remind ourselves that God has chosen us forever. God will espouse us with righteousness and justice, and kindness and mercy. God will espouse us with faithfulness and we shall know Hashem.
I’m not always sure if God is right to keep coming back to a people that so often has gone astray. From the Golden Calf, to the idolatry of the 8th century Israelites, all the way to our present day where religious observance and spiritual fervor seem to be becoming less central to most people’s lives. Why does God put up with it? I don’t know. But if I take the words of the prophet seriously, I might venture a guess: God’s infinite love is powerful enough to overcome the heartache of flawed creations. And because God’s commitment to justice, kindness, mercy, righteousness and love is unwavering. “The renewal of the covenant,” according to the Etz Hayim chumash, “does not depend on Israel’s repentance or initiative. It is a transformation initiated and guided by God.”
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