by Shai Romirowsky
This upcoming week marks the beginning of a new year. Not so much in the sense that it is really the beginning of the school year, but more in the sense that after all of the Chaggim, the school year really begins to take its toll. Getting back into a routine is certainly a good thing, but where there is a routine, there’s always a problem. This problem is what Agatha Christie likes to call, “the unforgivable error.”
In one of her mystery stories Detective Hercule Poirot says to Captain Hastings, “It is your destiny to prevent me from committing the unforgivable error.”
The captain replies, “What do you call this unforgivable error?”
Poirot answers: “Overlooking the obvious.”
In a day and age complicated with long commutes, heavy workloads, schedule conflicts, cell phones, traffic and other daily activities that shape the mold of our routine, we frequently overlook what remains so close at hand. However, this “unforgivable error” which Christie speaks of isn’t just a byproduct of the hustle and bustle of the 21st century. In fact, this weeks Torah portion contains the parable of Hagar and Ishmael dying of thirst in the desert. Hagar places her son under a nearby shrub and sits some distance away. “For she thought: ‘I cannot look on as my child dies.’ And sitting thus at a distance she wept loudly…Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water; and she went and filled the bottle with water, and gave the child drink.”
Let us note carefully what the Lord did for Hagar in her child’s time of need. He “opened her eyes” to the obvious well that she had overlooked. In truth the key to her son’s survival and salvation lay close at hand. Yet in the midst of her hysteria she had neglected to notice the treasures that lay within her grasp.
Wouldn’t it be nice if God could do for us what He did for Hagar in the wilderness. If He could open our eyes to the multitudes of blessings that lay before us, to the vast sea of opportunity and the everyday miracles that we so often neglect and overlook. If we could only see the obvious, what a solution that would be to the trivial grievances that accompany our everyday routine.
By overlooking the obvious we not only deprive ourselves of the potential gifts that lay so close at hand, but we also dilute ourselves of the innate talents and gifts that we already possess. Maybe then we would rid ourselves of the awful conviction of “what if” and “had not.” Then, when we get into the mindset of “if only” we would be able to remind ourselves that we should not make the unforgivable error.
So, as we each embark upon the beginning of a new year and as we re-establish the routine within our lives, let us not forget to stop and smell the roses. May we have the ability to see what we may not ordinarily see; and may we appreciate the little things in life, that so oftentimes make the difference between routine, and the beauty of a new day.
Ken Yehi Ratzon.
by Marissa Shragg, EMTZA, 5764
Most Torah portions discuss one main theme, a certain mitzvah or an event. There are few which discuss a variety of these: Va-Yera is one of the few portions which covers many of these concepts. The first is the birth and near-sacrifice of Isaac, the second is the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, and the third is the story of Hagar and Ishmael. The one story, out of the three, which relates most to our society today is, actually, the preface to the story of Isaac; the story of Abraham, Sarah and the strangers.
Sarah and Abraham were both very old when they found out that they would conceive and bear a child. It was a year after the couple had welcomed three apparent strangers into their tent. It is said that one of these strangers was actually G-d. It was the hospitality of Abraham and Sarah which helped Him to decide to help the couple have a child. When Abraham saw the strangers approaching, he quickly invited them in, to sit down, and asked them to soak their feet in water: Sarah dropped everything that she was doing, as well, and began to cook a feast for the three men. These actions portray the mitzvah of Hakh’nasat or’him, or hospitality. This is one of the most highly valued mitzvot within the entire Torah.
It is so interesting, how our society has changed so drastically over the centuries. We still put a high value on donating food, blood or tzdakah to different organizations, but this contributing is not universal. Much of society relies on soup kitchens to feed the hungry, shelters to give a home, and even “welcome wagons” to greet new arrivals. Although the problems are on their way to being managed, everything is anonymous. The thought is there, but I think that this is societies way of “making the mitzvot work for them”. Instead, we should try to go “out of our way”, and we should reach out to a new family within the community – we should make them feel like they belong; that is, truly feel accepted – people remember a friendly face, a smile, and compassion more than they do a tray of brownies, or a casserole.
Instead of waiting for the hungry to be fed at soup kitchens, donate food and go donate your time to help serve them. In place of letting the homeless stay on the streets, or in crowded shelters, volunteer, with an organization, to help build homes for families who can’t afford to buy a place to live.
Donated clothes can keep a person warm. Food can keep someone from being hungry. A house can make someone feel safe. But, only reaching out with love and compassion can truly touch a person’s heart. “Give a man a fish, and he will be fed: Teach a man how to fish, and he will never go hungry.”
by Judah Kerbel
November 7, 2009/20 Heshvan 5770
Who is your best friend? Think about one person who you define as your best friend. A “friend” in this case does not have to mean a “comrade” or a peer of any sort, but rather someone who is your closest confidant. How did that person earn your trust? What motives might you have for such a friendship?
In Chapter 18 of Bereishit, we have two stories: the birth of Yitzchak and God’s decision to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah (and Avraham’s plead against it). In between the two stories – before God reveals his plans to Avraham – we hear God’s thought process through the decision to reveal those plans to Avraham. The Torah says:
“And the Lord said, shall I hide from Abraham what I am doing? Seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I have know[n] him to the end that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord, to do righteousness and justice, to the end that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken to him” (Leibowitz translation).
Nehama Leibowitz, one of the most essential contemporary scholars of Torah, understands this verse to serve as a bridge between the first and second stories. Yitzchak, who was born in the first part, is the first of many descendents of Avraham who will be responsible for carrying out a certain mission that is brought in the second story – that of justice. Through Rashi, Leibowitz explains that God chose to reveal his plans to Avraham because God knows him – meaning that God has an intimate relationship with Avraham – and expects Avraham and especially his children to carry out the mission of righteousness and justice. Indeed, the idea of knowledge of God is explained to be doing what is righteous and just. This is Leibowitz al regel echad (that’s an expression in Hebrew meaning ‘on one foot,’ or in summary).
After we hear God think to himself, we immediately see Avraham act to fulfill God’s mission. Even though their wickedness was despicable, Avraham wrestles with the justice in wiping out two entire towns. He cannot conceive of the idea that there is not at least ten* righteous people in each of these two towns and feels uncomfortable or anxious that God would completely obliterate these towns.
As descendents of Avraham and inheritors of the tradition, we bear equal responsibility for fulfilling justice. There are people who assert that we have a lesser obligation to help non-Jews versus helping Jews. But my read of this episode based on what we established above is that we have an equal obligation of spreading justice throughout the world wherever needed. I’m preaching to the choir here, but I see this to further emphasize the necessary role Jews should take in speaking out against genocide in Darfur, and to speak out against justice in your own communities just as much. But I also see this as a command to be justice – that the very essence of who you are should be justice. The inscription on the front of my favorite siddur is da lifnei ata omed – know before whom you stand. Wherever you are, you stand before God in your obligation as a Jew to lead a righteous life and create a world of justice. When you look back on your life, will God have known you for your contributions of justice and righteousness?
*As a sidenote, I want to mention that the ten people that would have been required to save Sodom and Gomorrah can be seen in light of the minyan. We do not do d’varim bikdusha, matters of holiness (i.e. Kaddish, k’dusha, barchu) without a community of ten people. Enough people to create a minyan to bring holiness in Sodom and Gomorroh was not to be found.
by Alex Krule
We’ve grown up with the golden myth of Avraham. Avraham is an ideal character in the Tanach; Avraham is a figure whom we should all strive to be like; Avraham is the quintessential Jew. But this myth was taught to us by our preschool teachers and is just that: a myth. It has become apparent that this Avraham that we have come to know and love has never existed.
Rambam’s commentary on Pirkei Avot, Chapter 5, Mishnah 3 explains ten tests of Avraham. The tenth and final test is the akeidah – the Binding of Isaac – found in this week’s parsha. Rambam says that the akeidah exists to test Avraham’s faith in God. Now, according to the traditional understanding of Avraham, we would like to believe that Avraham passes this test. However, the case simply is not so. Avraham misunderstands God’s directions and fails the test.
In Genesis 22:2, God says, “v’ha’alei’hu sham l’ola.” Now, according to the preliminary understanding of the text (found in a JPS), this means that Avraham is to “offer [Isaac] there as a burnt offering” (JPS Tanach, 39). However, we must look further into the text to find the true meaning.
Rashi, a notable medieval French commentator, notes that God never said “lishchot,” to slaughter, when he tells Avraham what to do with Yitchak. Additionally, he comments on the “bringing up” or “ola” part of the action. He says that where it says “la’a lot,” to bring up, it also says “la’redet,” to bring down, later in the text. Similarly, according to Ibn Ezra, a French rabbi and commentator who specialized in a grammatical analysis of the Torah, says that “nasah,” nun-samech-hay, often translated as “he tested,” can be spelled with a sin and an aleph. How does this change the meaning of the passage? Well, “nasah” with a sin and an aleph means “lifted up” or “elevated.” This is not the only place in the Tanach where the word “nasah” (with a sin and hay) means “to elevate.” In Exodus 20:17, it says “n’sot etchem” (“God will raise you, so that the vision of God will always be upon you”). This means that, as a member of the Nation of Israel, God will raise you higher, in terms of holiness, above the other nations, and that God will always be watching over you.
I believe that the fundamental test that Rambam spoke of was a test of Avraham’s understanding of God’s will; a decision between pshat (basic understanding) and drash (in depth understanding), if you will. God was testing to see if Avraham would take God’s words at face-value (pshat) or to seriously consider the deeper meaning of God’s words (drash). I also believe that the true answer is the drash; Avraham was not supposed to kill Isaac, rather, he was supposed to lift him closer to God. Avraham obviously interprets God’s words only to the level of pshat. And so, Avraham fails that test.
What does this mean? Why does it matter if Avraham failed a test? Well, this read of the Torah is dramatically different from the traditional read. Many of us learn in Hebrew School that Avraham was going to sacrifice Isaac, but it was actually a test of faith from God. We are also taught that Avraham is a near-perfect role model to be looked up on. This is clearly not true, but it doesn’t mean that we should not respect Avraham. Avraham is not perfect, but that is what makes him an important character in our heritage. Instead of trying to be perfect, which, as humans, we can never be, we can look at Avraham and acknowledge that we have flaws; that it is okay to not be perfect. We must cease from putting our biblical heroes on a golden pedestal and think of them on the same level as us. Only then will we have a more accurate understanding of our tradition.
Lekh Lekha 5763
by Josh Dorsch
This week’s parasha, Lech Lecha, deals with the beginning of the 10 tests that God gives to Abraham, all of which he passes with flying colors. In last weeks parasha, Abraham is put into a furnace because he wouldn’t denounce his beliefs of God. And wouldn’t you know it, he came out of it unharmed. This week, our portion begins with God telling Abraham:
“Lech l’cha me artzecha umemoladetche u me beit avicha el ha aretz asher arekha” (Go for you from your land and from your birthplace and from the house of your father to the land that I will show you).
This is the second of 10 tests which God puts Abraham through. However, being that God is all knowing, he would already know that Abraham would pass the tests. Why would he then require for Abraham to act them out? The Ohr Gedalia explains the situation to us, with “potential.” He says that everyone is born with a certain amount of potential. G-D knows what everyone’s potential is, however, it is our job reach for our potential. God may know exactly what someone is capable of doing, as well as what they should do, however, unless that person does it, he will remain the same. God knows you can talk, but you must walk the walk. Another way in which this dilemma can be viewed, is the ever so popular and controversial question, about Free choice. If God is supposed all knowing, and he knew what Abraham would choose, was Abraham actually tested in the first place? Rambam’s answer to this question, is that God controls, and knows everything, except for how much one fears God. The reason in which someone would, or would not do something is because they are scared of their possible punishment. The more someone feared God, the more one would be inclined to follow God’s commandments. Even though God may have known what Abraham was going to do, he decided to let Abraham see for himself. God bestowed upon Abraham a great responsibility. He was going to be the father of not only the Jewish People, but a lot of other nations as well. Abraham may have been unsure of him self to be able to handle such a big responsibility. These tests were not actually meant to show God how affirm to God that Abraham was the right man for the job. But, to show Abraham his potential to be the father of a great nation.
Lekh Lekha 5770
by Bekah Hakimian
October 31, 2009/13 Heshvan 5770
Imagine this. One day you are told by a total stranger to pack all of your belongings, pick up and leave your life back home. You are told to trust this stranger, even though clearly this person is someone you don’t know. Imagine this happening thousands of years ago, and that stranger is a voice you are hearing, and the voice just so happens to be God. Now remove yourself from this picture and place Abram in this scene.
At the end of last week’s parsha, we are introduced to the decedents of Noah’s children, and those descendants are Abram, Sarai, and Lot. In Lech Lecha (which means, “get out” or “leave from here”), God promises Abram that a special land will be set aside for him and his descendants, and that Abram will be a father of a great nation. Abram and his family, which includes his wife Sarai and his nephew Lot, travel from Haran to Canaan. On his journeys in the land, Abram sets up an altar to God in Alon Moreh between Bethel and Ai.
A famine in Canaan forces Abram to seek food in Egypt. Upon entering Egypt, Abram declares that Sarai is his sister, not his wife; she is then taken into Pharaoh’s palace. Abram realizes good fortune from this deception, but God afflicts Pharaoh with plagues. Pharaoh realizes that Sarai is really Abram’s wife. Pharaoh sends Abram, his wife, and their possessions out of Egypt.
God once again appears to Abram and promises him progeny and land. This convent is confirmed when Abram brings sacrifices. At this point, God foretells the Israelite bondage in Egypt. Sarai, who has not been able to bear children, gives her handmaid Hagar to Abram as a concubine. Hagar bears Ishmael. God repeats his covenant to Abram, but now requires Abram and all the males of his household to be circumcised as a sign of the covenant. Abram at this point is 99 years old.
The parsha concludes with a final covenant. God appeared before Abram and said, “I am El Shaddai; walk before Me and be perfect” (17:1). God tells Abram he will be a father of a multitude of nations and a nation so great that not even all the grains of sand could measure up to his descendants. God then changes Abram and Sarai’s names to Abraham and Sarah. The name change was a way to show that God will remember the covenant and Abraham and Sarah will always have a part of God. The name change was minor yet very significant. In Hebrew, the letter Hay often is another name for God. By adding the letter Hay to Abram and Sarai, is in a sense placing God’s name in each of their names.
In this parsha, Abram is called an Ivri, a Hebrew. Rashi explains the term by its root letters, ayin, vet, resh, meaning “other.” He translates the phrase as: “the one who came from the other side of the Euphrates River.” This is interpreted as: The whole world stood on one side and “Abram the Ivri stood on the other.
Through this all, Abraham pasts the entire test God set before him. He leaves his home, becomes a figure head in this land, has is named changed, is circumcised and has a child at the age of 100. There would to be one more test on Abraham later on in the Torah, but I don’t want to ruin next week’s parsha. But what we can learn from this is that with a little faith in people, good things could come your way.
So, if you hear a voice in your head telling you too go travel to a new place and start a new life, I think we need to talk. Shabbat Shalom.
#6: From this point on, I am generally using A Guide to Jewish Religious Practice by Rabbi Isaac Klein and Kitzur Shulchan Arukh Mekor Chayim by Rabbi Chayim David HaLevi. If you have any practical questions regarding Halakha, please consult your rabbi; ideas presented here are not meant to provide halakha l’ma’aseh (practical halakha) but rather an overview of how Shabbat works and ideas to enhance its observance.
While there are multiple possibilities of how Shabbat begins, the obligatory candle lighting is one of the most common ways in which one sanctifies the beginning of Shabbat. In the words of Heschel, “just as creation began with the word ‘let there be light!’ so does the celebration of creation begin with the kindling of lights.” While Karaites take the law of not kindling a fire on Shabbat to mean that literally, light should not permeate the house on Shabbat, Rabbinic Jews take the idea of oneg Shabbat (delight of Shabbat) seriously, and candle lighting is meant to bring joy to the home on Shabbat. There is also considerable thought behind the idea that lighting candles brings peace to the home. When the time comes, we set down our weekly occupations, and we have a moment of tranquility while bringing the light of God, Torah, and Shabbat into our homes.
There are many traditions behind the amount of candles one lights. It is fairly standard to light at least two candles, one for shamor and one for zakhor, the first words of the Shabbat commandment in Deuteronomy and Exodus, respectively. Some families have the tradition of lighting one candle for each family member.
When we light candles, we cover our eyes as we say the berakha. The reason for this is because normally, we say a berakha before we do the mitzvah. However, saying the berakha for lighting candles would automatically mean that Shabbat has started, and we would be unable to light candles! So we light the candles, cover our eyes, say the berakha, and then we open our eyes and enjoy the aura of holiness that the light of the candles brings to our Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom U-mevorach!
by Aaron Aftergood
It is told that Noah’s righteousness was well known among his contemporaries. One of his main occupations was traveling among them, trying to convince them to change their ways. Noah even planted cedars and spent 120 years tending them, cutting them into boards, planing them, and finally building the Ark. He could have accomplished this in much less time, but he felt that if the people saw his preparations for the Flood, they would change. But the others made a joke of it, saying, “What the heck’s he gonna do with that big boat?” He tried to convince them, but they would not listen.
The first line of the parasha reads, “These are the chronicles of Noah: Noah was a righteous man, faultless in his generation; Noah walked with God.”
“Faultless in his generation,” is the phrase that has been massively commented on. Yalkut MeAm Lo=92ez, written by Rabbi Yaakov Culi in the early 18th century says that “in his generation” suggests that even though he lived among wicked people, he maintained his high moral standards. It also tells us that if he had lived in the time of Moses and other tzadiks, he would certainly have even been much greater, since they would have reinforced his determination.
Rashi takes an opposite approach. He thinks that Noah would not have been considered righteous in any other time. Only the fact the every one around him was wicked, made him appear to be a good guy, and thus he was chosen by God.
In any case, I believe that it is not only possible, but our duty as Jews and USYers to be “righteous” in our generations.
You may respond, “Look, I’m certainly not righteous, and my generation is already having identity problems as it is; what am I supposed to do.”
Well, I interpret this passage to mean that we should be examples in our daily lives. As Jewish individuals, we have a responsibility to role models, and leaders, whether we are in school, USY, or anywhere. My decision to wear a Kippah, both at a secular school, and in my public daily life, has instantly transformed me into a representative of our beloved religion, and, as a result, I have much more confidence as a person, and a much better outlook on life. So next time you’re tempted to do something that your mother might not necessarily be proud, think again, be righteous in your environment, and stand up for what’s right. Not only because you may be the teacher’s pet, but because you are a Jew; like Noah, you must be a light unto the nations.
Remember, USY today, is the World Jewish leadership of tomorrow, and we must not forget to learn, and improve ourselves as human beings in preparation for this colossal responsibility.