By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
While Moshe remains on Har Sinai, God provides detailed instructions regarding the construction and decoration of the Mishkan, the central theme of this final third of the book of Shemot. This Tabernacle is to house the Ark and allow the Divine Presence to dwell among the people of Israel.
God instructs the Israelites to bring a variety of materials for this very purpose. Following the gathering of these items, God says the following in Ex. 25:8: V’asu Li Mikdash v’Shachanti B’tocham. They will make me a mikdash (holy place) and I will dwell be-tokham (in them).
Our parshanim wonder: If this pasuk is talking about the Mikdash, wouldn’t it make more sense for it to say that God will dwell B’tocho, in it, in singular? Why does it say be-tocham, in plural?
One of these commentators, the Nefesh ha-Hayyim who lived in Lithuania 250 years ago, suggested that the main idea of the Mikdash and God’s presence in this world is about people. If people make themselves holy through observing all the mitzvot, then they themselves can actually become a Mikdash, a holy place, and God will dwell inside them.
This is what the Sages meant when they explained “I will dwell be-tocham (in them)”–it’s that God will dwell in THEM (the people), not just in IT (the Mikdash).
Let’s take a closer look at this word Mikdash: the root of this word Mikdash is Kuf-Dalet-Shin. So many familiar words share this shoresh: Kadosh, Kaddish, Kiddush, Kedusha. All are grammatical variations on this central theme of holiness.
Kuf-Dalet-Shin. What is the central letter of this Hebrew root that all of these words have in common? DALET
DALET: The name of each letter in the Alef-Bet not only has a numeric equivalent, in this case, Dalet represents the number four, as it is the fourth letter of the Alef-Bet. But each letter’s name also has a unique meaning in and of itself. Dalet is a variant of the word Delet which means door.
This letter is central both literally and figuratively to the root of holiness. When we think about Dalet in this way, I think about 2 things. On the one hand, we have the ability, both in our individual homes and in our synagogue, to open the door, to fulfill the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, to welcome guests into our spaces, ultimately elevating our personal and communal homes in holiness.
At the same time, thinking back to the Nefesh HaHayyim commentary, when we perform mitzvot, such as hachnasat orchim, and 612 other commandments, WE increase in holiness. The spiritual door within us opens as we welcome God’s presence into ourselves, truly feeling that spark of the divine which humanity was given when we were created B’tzelem Elohim, in God’s image.
May we each go from strength to strength with each mitzvah we perform, elevating ourselves and our community in holiness.
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness:
You shall neither side with the mighty to do wrong—you shall not give perverse testimony in a dispute so as to pervert it in favor of the mighty—
nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute.
Parshat Mishpatim is full of rules and laws that run the gamut of forming a society. The above set of three verses struck me this week. The first sentence seems fairly simple, almost obvious. Of course any good society should know not to join hands with the guilty, nor give any credence to unsubstantiated rumors. But the next two verses, in my eyes, show us how much harder that can be when we navigate the messy, complicated world around us.
You shall neither side with the mighty…nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute. What does this mean? It means we all need to check our biases. It’s really difficult when someone we’ve come to respect, love, or even rely on is suddenly caught up in a scandal. Since the #MeToo movement and even well before, we’re not strangers to seeing those we look up to getting caught doing something they shouldn’t have done. And in some cases, our desire to preserve our image of that person might incline us to forgive them, offer them a second chance without necessarily holding them accountable for the problematic choice they made. Sometimes it’s difficult not to side with the mighty. It can be understandably tempting to justify the action, rationalize or even deny that it could have happened as it is described. But we must not carry false rumors, nor give perverse testimony so as to pervert it in favor of the mighty (or influential, powerful, beloved, respected etc.)
But “nor shall you show deference to a poor person in a dispute.” In our pursuit of justice and accountability, we mustn’t fall prey to the other temptation. We shouldn’t be venerating victimhood. We shouldn’t strip the poor of their dignity by simply pitying them. The merit of their case should be based in fact and truth. I see it all the time among friends that in an effort to transcend a “might makes right” attitude, they almost automatically root for the underdog on the basis of their status as underdog. This too is not the path to justice. This is the sort of thinking that can keep a group of poor people in a state of perpetual reliance on the help of others. It’s the sort of thinking groups like Hamas take advantage of when leaving their people in a constant state of victimhood, rather than tending to the needs of those they’re meant to be governing.
So it isn’t simple after all. Every case, every claim, every headline requires an exhausting effort to validate. Everytime we go to share a post online, are we taking care not to violate this negative command? Are making sure we aren’t carrying false rumors? Are we cautious and demanding that facts and truth be circulated? Are we certain that we are neither favoring the mighty, nor showing deference to the poor? Are we checking our bias, and doing the deep listening required to move forward as a society? There’s so much information out there, and for better and for worse, truth has never been more difficult to identify. As Rabbi Tarfon says in Pirkei Avot, “It’s not on us to finish the work, but we are not free to ignore it.” May God lead us with His good counsel.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
The best teachers widen our view of the world. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks Z’L wrote something about this week’s reading, Yitro, that has long stuck with me. Because it’s not really about Yitro, Moses’ father-in-law, way back then, but about all of us every day.
In the Parsha, Yitro notices Moses wearing himself out by listening to the legal cases brought by the people all day every day. Yitro confronts him directly by saying “The thing you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you. You cannot do it alone” (Ex. 18:17, 18). He then urges Moses to delegate, to train others to be capable of answering these legal questions, while Moses will serve as a supreme court, as it were, handling the most challenging cases.
Rabbi Sacks is taken by the phrase “not good, Lo Tov.” It rings a bell for him. He turns to the only other time that exact phrase is used in the Torah, Genesis 2:18. There we see God observing Adam without Eve and being quite lonely. God says, “It is not good for man to be alone; I will make a fitting helper for him.” God then proceeds to create Eve.
There too we read “not good, Lo Tov.” When there are only two instances of an expression, each example must inform the other. What do we learn from each case?
Rabbi Sacks answers: from Genesis we learn, it’s not good for a person to live alone. And from Exodus we learn, it’s not good for a person to lead alone. Living alone removes us from the blessings of companionship, family, and community. Leading alone is an impossible task that wears out an individual and prevents that group from preparing for future success.
From what is not good, we learn the best path forward: to live together and to lead together.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
While this verse comes from Devarim 20:19, it is relevant to us, TODAY, as we celebrate Tu Bishvat, the New Year of the Trees!
But in looking outside (and what a view we have on the east side of our synagogue!), it always strikes me that we celebrate this holiday in the midst of winter, when, other than snow and cold, nature seems to have pressed the pause button.
The Gemara wonders the same thing and answers the question: What’s happening in nature at this time of year? A Talmudic response is as follows: R. Elazar said that R. Oshaya said: This is when most of the rains have passed, even though most of the winter season is still ahead.
This leads to yet another question: What does being halfway through the rainy season matter if winter isn’t over yet? Rashi explains that this is the time when sap is rising inside the trees. While fruit is not yet emerging, the roots and trunks are starting to pull water up to the branches, and that eventually will make fruit begin to appear.
So what’s important about sap rising inside of trees? Why is it important to celebrate something that we cannot see or measure on the outside? Why is something as quiet and unnoticeable as the sap rising inside the trees important enough to mark the beginning of the year for fruit?
Rabbi Yehudah Leib Eiger, from 19th century Eastern Europe, in his commentary, Imrei Emet, suggests that the sap rising quietly in trees represents an important idea about salvation and teaches us that Tu Bishvat may be more significant than we might have thought:
When it came to Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt), that salvation began to awaken on Tu Bishvat, and became visible in the month of Nissan.
It’s like the way trees work – you only plant them once, but then they bloom every year on their own. Even though all the leaves die and the trees dry up every winter, their inner freshness never stops…
That’s why the Torah says “people are like trees (Dev. 20:19)” – this is God’s way of telling us to never give up. Even if you experience a kind of failing, this is just the same as how trees sometimes dry up, but even so they eventually grow fruit when the time is right. A person should always remember this idea: that it’s on Tu Bishvat that Yetziyat Mitzrayim is already awakening.
Trees can give up hope when things are going badly. We know and see that in the winter, tree leaves die and fall off, and it’s hard to tell whether the trees are dead or alive. But the amazing thing is that, even then, the tree might already be starting the process of regrowth – even though it’s impossible to see it from the outside!
This is ultimately how Tu Bishvat connects to Pesah – it’s the time when the miracle of being saved was already secretly beginning. And this holiday always falls during the week when we read Parshat Beshallach, during which we read and re-experience the miracle of Kriyat Yam Suf, the splitting of the sea in the famous Shirat HaYam, the song of the sea. That first Pesach started during the physical and emotional journey from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light. Our ancestors were each like trees, Ki haadam eitz hasadeh. In that moment, they were changing inside as individuals throughout their journey. And in every moment, we are each changing, growing in ways we can recognize on the outside, as well as changing on the inside in emotion and character.
May we all discover new things about ourselves on this journey from winter to spring. Perhaps that figurative “sap” rising within each of us this winter will inspire us in new and unexpected ways in the months to come.
Tu Bishvat Sameach!!
By Rabbi Michael Schwab.
This past weekend we commemorated 100 days since the terrible and despicable attack by Hamas against Israel and their kidnapping of over 200 hostages, many who still remain in captivity. Rabbi Freedman and I have shared abundant words with you about this travesty over the last 100 days. Therefore I thought that instead of sharing my own today, I would present to you some thoughts by some other important thinkers and figures of our time who wrote something or gave speeches to mark the 100 days.
President Isaac Herzog:
I am speaking from here to the hostages, our brothers and sisters, whoever can hear me — we are not giving up on you. We have not forgotten you. We are all working and will continue to work here in Israel and around the world 24/7 in order to bring you home! . . . I call upon the entire family of nations to do your part. This isn’t just our battle. It is a battle for the entire world. Stand with life and liberty. Stand with freedom and democracy, against barbarism and hate.”
Bruno Maçães:
What I find so troubling is not just that the appeal of universal principles or that the role of truth in politics has collapsed, but that so many people are cheering it on. It seems to me like people were tired of reason and truth. Such principles are too boring compared to the thrills of enmity and hatred.
Bruno Maçães is a columnist for the New Statesman, a former Portuguese Europe minister, and the author of “Geopolitics for the End Time.”
Haviv Rettig Gur:
When it set out on the morning of October 7 to kill and kidnap Israelis, Hamas knew what its actions would bring upon Gaza. And it welcomed it, not because Hamas are “extremist” or “radical”—easy but meaningless designations—but because it believes it is fighting a much larger fight than the Israeli-Palestinian one. . . . Iran did not build Hezbollah to not use it, nor the Houthis or its militias in Iraq and Syria. A war one side thinks is being fought to reclaim Islam’s rightful place in history will not end in Gaza. It has, alas, only just begun.
Haviv Rettig Gur is a senior analyst at The Times of Israel.
Michael Oren:
Since October 7, the atrocities carried out by Hamas have been tolerated, contextualized, and hailed. Since October 7, Israel itself has been accused of perpetrating them and worse. All of this has brought a great and terrible clarity: Jew-hatred has been revealed as a permanent and pervasive reality in the West. Jews in America, especially, now have three choices: stay and fight, stay and hide, or move to Israel.
Michael Oren is a historian, former Israeli ambassador to the U.S., and the author, among other books, of “Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East
President Joseph Biden:
Today, we mark a devastating and tragic milestone—100 days of captivity for the more than 100 innocent people, including as many as 6 Americans, who are still held being hostage by Hamas in Gaza. For 100 days, they have existed in fear for their lives, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. For 100 days, their families have lived in agony, praying for the safe return of their loved ones. . . I will never forget the grief and the suffering I have heard in my meetings with the families of the American hostages. No one should have to endure even one day of what they have gone through, much less 100. On this terrible day, I again reaffirm my pledge to all the hostages and their families—we are with you.
At the beginning of parashat Va-era, God tells Moshe what to say to the Israelites (Ex: 6:6-8):
“אֲנִ֣י הֹ’ וְהוֹצֵאתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֗ם מִתַּ֙חַת֙ סִבְלֹ֣ת מִצְרַ֔יִם וְהִצַּלְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם מֵעֲבֹדָתָ֑ם וְגָאַלְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בִּזְר֣וֹעַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבִשְׁפָטִ֖ים גְּדֹלִֽים׃ וְלָקַחְתִּ֨י אֶתְכֶ֥ם לִי֙ לְעָ֔ם וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָכֶ֖ם לֵֽאלֹהִ֑ים…וְהֵבֵאתִ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתִי֙ אֶת־יָדִ֔י לָתֵ֣ת אֹתָ֔הּ לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֑ב וְנָתַתִּ֨י אֹתָ֥הּ לָכֶ֛ם מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה אֲנִ֥י הֹ’׃”
“I am HaShem, and I will free you from the labors of Egypt, and I will deliver you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be My people and I will be your God…and I will bring you to the land that I swore to give to Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I HaShem.”
Rabbi Kushner writes in the Etz Hayim commentary, that these 5 verbs in bold correspond to the 5 stages of the redemption. First God frees us from the physical enslavement of Egypt. Next God delivers us from the psychological mindset of being a slave, which may persist even after we are physically liberated. Third, God will redeem us so that we see ourselves as free. Though our minds are opened in the second stage, now freedom becomes part of our identity. Fourth, God takes us to be His people, inviting us into that special relationship we have even today as Jews with Hashem. This is one of the ultimate goals of the Exodus and in fact is mentioned explicitly each time Moshe and Aaron ask Pharaoh to “Let my people go.” It’s always, “let my people go, so that they may worship HaShem in the wilderness.”
The last stage, God takes us to the Land of Israel, fulfilling the ancient promise to our ancestors. Only there as a free people can we construct a model society based on the values and practices of Torah. It is not enough to just be free, but we are called to actualize God’s vision for us to thrive as a people in that land.
So, we see a progression that mirrors Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: Physiological needs (physical freedom), safety needs (mental deliverance), love and belonging (spiritual redemption), self-esteem (direct and unique relationship with the Divine) and self-actualization (taking us into the land to fulfill our purpose as Jews).
And these verbs are cited in the Jerusalem Talmud as a source for the 4 cups of wine at the Passover Seder — the fifth verb thus inviting a fifth cup which is reserved for Elijah the prophet. When we think about our own lives, what do we need to fully realize the vision of freedom offered in these verses?
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
It may be snowing outside in Chicago, but the Torah has us thinking about springtime, as we begin the book of Exodus this week and turn our sights to Passover.
In Parashat Shmot, wicked Pharaoh sets everything in motion when he feels threatened by the growing Israelite community and desires to enslave them. Here is what he tells the Egyptian people: “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them, so that they may not increase; otherwise, in the event of war, they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.” (Ex. 1:9, 10; translation JPS).
The first time we read this, we may assume that this was a one-time speech, made by one ruler in one specific context. But the 19th century Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch sees the same words differently, as a pattern that would recur throughout history. Here is Hirsch:
“Alas, there is nothing new under the sun, and these machinations are as old as history itself. Whenever a despot has conspired to subjugate his own people, he has delivered to them some other nation to oppress as compensation for and distraction from the tyranny they themselves were suffering. This technique has been the source of many decrees issued against the Jews, and it may have lain at the root of the schemes of this first inventor of ‘Jew laws.’”
In other words, Hirsch sees Pharaoh’s message to the Egyptians as a blueprint that other tyrants would echo against the Jewish people throughout history. The sense that there are too many Jews. The call to be shrewd with them. The sense that the Jews are a fifth column and may turn against the nation. The sense that a nation’s troubles are the fault of the Jews alone. Read in this light, Pharaoh’s words are even more frightening because our enemies have turned to this template again and again throughout history.
The first way we understand the Passover story is on its own terms as a story that happened a long time ago. A deeper way to consider the Exodus, though, is as the beginning of a pattern that would recur throughout Jewish history.
By Hazzan Jenna Greenberg.
Our final parasha of Breishit, Vayechi, begins with the news that Yaakov has lived (Vayechi) for the past 17 years in Egypt; his life has spanned 147 years and Yaakov feels his life coming to an end. So he said to Yosef, “If I have found favor in your eyes, then swear to me that you will not bury me in Egypt, but with my fathers in Canaan.” Yosef agreed, then later received word that his father was dying. So he took his two sons, Menashe and Ephraim, to see Yaakov. Yaakov sat up in bed, saying, “El Shaddai appeared to me in the land of Canaan and blessed me. God said to me, ‘Behold, I will make you fruitful and will multiply you, and I will let you become a community of nations and will give this land to your seed after you as an everlasting possession.”
Shortly thereafter Yaakov added, “Now, bring your sons to me so that I may bless them.” But he did so in an unusual manner. With Menashe and Efraim kneeling in front of their nearly blind grandfather, Yosef assists by placing Yaakov’s right hand on Menashe, the older son, and his left hand on Efraim, the younger son. Yaakov then switches his hands, saying that Efrayim will be greater than Menashe.
Yaakov proceeds to bless the 2 boys with the words: Y’simcha Elohim K’Efraim v’chiM’nashe, May God make you like Efraim and like Menashe. In many families, these words are recited by parents to their sons on Friday nights, a minhag that was first recorded by Rabbi Aharon Berakhyah of Modena, Italy, 300 years ago.
Just prior to this blessing, Yaakov blesses not only Efraim and Menashe, but Yosef as well in 48:16: “HaMalakh haGoel Oti…May the angel who has delivered me from all evil, bless the lads. May they carry on my name and the name of my fathers, Avraham and Yitzchak. May they become teeming multitudes upon the earth.”
These beautiful words reflecting God’s blessings and protection, have been applied to Kriyat Sh’ma Al HaMita, the series of blessings and prayers recited in bed each night before going to sleep. This blessing, is textually and musically one of the most beautiful Jewish lullabies in our tradition, bringing a feeling of calm and comfort in those last moments before we fall asleep.
Just as we have that final ritual before entering the world of our dreams, we also have a final ritual at the end of this parasha, and at the end of each book of the Torah. This Shabbat morning, when we complete the book of Breishit, we will recite the words Hazak Hazak v’nithazeik: Be Strong, be Strong and let us be strengthened.
This Shabbat of Vayechi conveniently coincides with the secular new year, as this is our final Shabbat of 2023. Not only do we wish strength upon each of us as we continue on our journey through the next four books of the Torah, but we also wish strength upon ourselves and one another as we continue on our journeys through this new year ahead. Just like our biblical ancestors, may we always feel blessed and strengthened by God’s protective presence wherever we go and whenever we have opportunities to celebrate and sanctify the passing of time.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy New Year!
By Hazzan Jacob Sandler.
Getting to know our Jewish family story throughout the book of Genesis is such a gift. The twelve sons of Israel each have their own personalities but I would say six of them get more airtime throughout than the others.
Reuben, Shimon, Levi and Judah – Leah’s first four sons and Joseph and Benjamin – Rachel’s sons, get the most attention.
Reuben makes a lot of mistakes. He lays with Bilhah, his father’s concubine (Vayishlach), and though he convinces his brothers not to kill Joseph, he fails in his attempt to rescue Joseph from the pit. (Vayeshev)
Shimon and Levi massacred the Schemites after all that happened with Dinah (Vayishlach). Jacob expresses his disapproval of their actions. Shimon is held later as collateral when the other brothers go to bring Benjamin to Joseph (Miketz). And Levi would be the ancestral tribe of Moses, Aaron and Miriam along with all the other Kohanim like Pinchas, Elazar, Itamar– the priesthood. And for what it’s worth, I’m a Levite too. (Shemot)
Judah has a whole “B-Story” amidst the Joseph arc where he recognizes Tamar’s righteousness (Vayeshev) and it is her son Peretz who is an ancestor of King David. In this week’s parasha, (Vayigash) his growth is further shown as he stands up to take responsibility for Benjamin’s safe return. Ultimately, it is Judah’s name that we bear as Yehudim, as Jews and this tribe which produces the monarchy.
Joseph of course is the dreamer who rises to power in Egypt (Vayeshev, Miketz, Vayigash) and is able to save his family from famine. In later years, it was Joseph and his son Ephraim, who are the namesake for the Northern Kingdom of Israel after it split from Judah.
Benjamin is Joseph’s brother, his little brother. Joseph puts him through the worst of it, singling him out, but perhaps all just to bring the family back together. It is so clear in the parasha that Joseph has a unique relationship with Benjamin, son of his own mother. Benjamin would be the ancestor to Caleb, one of the two spies who didn’t report negatively about the land (Shlach Lecha), and is also the ancestor of Mordechai from the Purim story.
As we get closer to the end of Genesis, and our family story transitions to the story of our becoming a free nation, I find myself grateful to know these vignettes of our tribal ancestors.
Each one has moments of bravery and righteousness, and each one has moments of failure from which they grow. The biblical characters are never perfect and this gives each of us a model for how to make mistakes, learn from them, and be the best we can be. As I heard recently, Judaism is one of the smallest peoples but one of the largest families.
By Rabbi Alex Freedman.
We all know the two miracles of Hanukkah. But let’s also think deeply about the relationship between them.
Little kids learn about the holiday’s twin miracles. First there was the military victory of the few Jews defeating the many and mighty Syrian Greek army. What followed that was the little oil that lasted for eight days, instead of one.
In the Talmud and Siddur, it’s the miracle of the oil that is highlighted, not the military victory. Why might that be?
The book Iturei Torah (Mateh Moshe) suggests that with the military victory, it’s possible for an outsider to claim that it wasn’t really G-d that made the miracle happen, but that it can be explained another way. On the other hand, the miracle of the oil could only come from G-d. There is simply no natural explanation.
I think there’s something really powerful about who is responsible for each miracle. While G-d had a hand in the military victory, certainly the Maccabees fought and won with their own hands. This miracle resulted from people taking action to defend their land, their people, and their G-d. Whereas the miracle of the oil can only be attributed to G-d, not human hands.
The upshot: when G-d and people work together, miracles happen.
This is actually a pattern. The same can be said about the ultimate miracle, the splitting of the Red Sea to leave Egypt. If you read Exodus carefully, G-d causes the sea to split only when Moses raises his staff (or, according to the Midrash, when Nahshon courageously wades his way into the water). Once more, it’s G-d and people working together to make a miracle happen.
Miracles never happen without human involvement. G-d seems to need our actions as much as we need G-d’s.
Chag Chanukah Sameach!
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