Two Minutes of Torah: Tetzaveh - Clothes maketh then Man

When I was 22 years old I applied for a job as a movement worker at RSY-Netzer. This was a one-year position for graduates of the youth movement who were just completing university. It was a job for which there was no uniform, and people would normally wear jeans and a sweatshirt. And although I was being interviewed by my peers, people I had known for years, and they would in all likelihood be wearing jeans; I felt it was important to wear a jacket and tie for my first real job interview. I felt ridiculous arriving at the Sternberg Centre dressed so formally, and I was significantly more formally dressed then any of my interviewers. But I felt there was a way that a person should dress for a job interview, even in this context.

This week, following on from all of the instructions about how the Mikdash (Tabernacle) should be constructed, we move into the clothing which the Cohanim (Priests) should wear to serve in it. No expense is spared in designing the uniform for this most significant position. They should have ‘a breastplate, an ephod, a robe, a fringed tunic, a headdress, and a sash’ (Exodus 28:4). And these will not be thrown together from materials found lying around the wilderness, they will require: ‘the gold, the blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and the fine linen’ (Exodus 28:5).

In this outfit one can imagine that the Priests would have been instantly recognisable anywhere in the camp. Not even Moses had this kind of uniform. And perhaps it is appropriate that people serving in the sacred space, which God is set to inhabit, should be dressed accordingly.

Mark Twain famously said: ‘Clothes make the man.’ And one can imagine that dressed in their priestly garb Aaron and his sons would have felt able to serve God. Wearing these clothes a person would feel like a Priest. I think about the way that I feel when I wear white on Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur, I feel ready to serve as a Rabbi on these most holy days.

There are five people named to fulfil this priestly function: ‘Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, Elazar and Itamar’ (Exodus 28:1) – Aaron and his sons. A few weeks from now, when we read the Torah portion of Shemini we will read about Nadav and Avihu. They brought strange fire into the Mikdash, and as a result they were consumed by a fire and died (Leviticus 10:1-2). Their clothing is not mentioned. But something in their actions appears to have been inappropriate, and God exacts the ultimate punishment. In their priestly clothing they may have felt prepared to serve in the Mikdash. But when they failed to behave appropriately, the clothing offered no protection; and was, in all likelihood, consumed along with them in the fire.

The story of Nadav and Avihu reminds us of the importance of what is on the inside. All the text tells us is that they brought ‘strange fire’, nothing else is mentioned. The text does not suggest that they were dressed inappropriately. Even though they looked like Priests, when their behaviour fell below what was expected, God exacted the ultimate punishment.

It felt appropriate to wear a suit for my RSY-Netzer job interview, but I would hope that my behaviour, rather than the suit, got me the job. The Priestly clothing described in this week’s Torah portion is important, but the behaviour of the people wearing them was always more significant. Clothes may help someone feel like ‘the man’. But ultimately it is the actions of a person which define how they are, and will be, regarded.

Why we should vote in the General Election

This article was written for the Jewish News, it appeared in their 11th February edition.

Almost a year and a half ago I remember standing with my wife (then my fiancé) in a queue for a polling station in Los Angeles. Although I could not vote in those elections, on November 4^th 2008, I felt like I was witnessing history, and I wanted to be there. There was an energy and excitement in that line in West Hollywood. People wanted to be a part of history, people wanted to have their voices heard, and people wanted to vote. We queued for almost an hour so that my wife could literally help write history. I was a spectator; I had no vote so I had no voice. While I shared the excitement as America elected its first black President, I was painfully reminded that I was merely a guest in that country; I could campaign and engage in political activity, but at the final hurdle I was silenced.

While no date has yet been set for our General Election, it seems that the campaigning and electioneering are already in full swing. Party leaders are all over the television, parliamentary candidates stare down at us from huge billboards and the media are gearing up for the forthcoming contest.

Yet, amidst all of the excitement, people appear more than ever to be disengaged, indifferent and apathetic about UK politics.

People have become disillusioned with the political process, and it is hardly surprising. As the scandal over MPs expenses shows no sign of abating, it is little wonder that the electorate is cynical about the people who represent us in Parliament.

There can be a temptation to throw our hands in the air and give up – what’s the point anyway?

While Britain may not have a law which compels us to vote, our Jewish identity, history and experiences should. It is easy to forget how hard our ancestors fought to have the right to engage in the political process and to be fully accepted members of British society. They fought to give us a voice, so we must fight to use it.

We may not always have the politicians we want, but if we don’t use our “voices”, not only do we lose the right to complain, but we also lose any influence we might have.

There are Jewish values that mandate our obligation to vote. In Pirkei Avot (the Ethics of the Fathers), Hillel cautioned us not to separate ourselves from the community (2:4). As members of British society, we have a Jewish responsibility to fully engage with the wider community, and that requires us to vote in the elections.

And while we may ask what influence we can really have, in the same text we are told: It is not your duty to complete the task, but neither are you free to desist from it (2:16). It is unlikely that after a General Election, we will find a House of Commons with which we are completely satisfied, but that does not mean that we are entitled to give up on the system entirely. We can be active and vocal in our constituencies and communities, beginning a process of change. Moses knew he would never enter the Promised Land, but until his final day, he led the Children of Israel towards it.

Having once experienced the disempowerment of having neither voice nor vote, I am proud and excited about exercising my democratic privilege some time this year. I cannot, and would not, tell you who to vote for; that is every individual’s choice. All I can do is urge everyone who is entitled to vote to take that hard fought for opportunity.

Voting in the General Election is not just a British privilege, it is a Jewish responsibility.

Jewish Ethics - Freedom of Speech

With a debate about Britain's libel laws a member of the class requested that we discuss the issue of freedom of speech. This has been an especially relevant issue for the Jewish community since the case involving Deborah Lipstadt in 2001.

In the Amidah, there is a clear recognition of the power of our words as we ask for God's help first to pray, and then to make sure that our tongues don't cause harm and our lips don't tell lies. The division between these two ideas demonstrates that Judaism does not just object to lying with our words, it also objects to causing harm with the words which we use. The prayer encourages an awareness of the power of our words to hurt, and the request for God's help to prevent this, three times a day, shows how easy it is to cause harm with our words.

The story which I found the most powerful was from the Talmud Baba Metzia 84a about Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai and Resh Lakish. This story about how the two great scholars met, and how they eventually fell out, provides a stark warning about the power of our words to cause harm. Rabbi Yochanan's words appear to cause real pain to Resh Lakish, which eventually becomes fatal. And ultimately both of them suffer.

As children we are taught to recite: 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.' The story in the Talmud, along with our own life experience, proves that this is a lie. Judaism's focus on the danger of harmful words shows just how aware our religion is of the power of our speech both for good and evil.

Two Minutes of Torah: Mishpatim - The Revolution of Judaism

One of my favourite Shabbat readings is by the writer Francine Klagsbrun. She tells the story of her father and his love for Shabbat as a miracle. Her father was totally in awe of the concept of Shabbat: ‘“When I was a young man, an immigrant from Russia,” he would say, “the United States had no labor laws regulating working conditions. People worked long hours, seven days a week, without rest. But imagine, more than three thousand years ago the Bible commanded that all work stop for an entire day every single week, and not only for the ancient Israelites but for all who lived among them, including slaves. And not only for people, but for animals as well. What a revolutionary practice that was. What a miracle!”’

I love the vision of Shabbat as a revolutionary practice. As he emphasised, the revolution was not just a day of rest, but the fact that it includes every member of society, especially slaves and animals.

In last week’s Torah portion we all stood at Mount Sinai and received the Ten Commandments, including the Shabbat command, directly from God. Every single member of the community heard the word of God and received the commandments. This week in Mishpatim the law giving proceeds at a pace with a portion full of rules for the Israelite community.

This law code could start anywhere. It could begin with more of the rules relating to our relationship with God, or it could build on the prohibitions elaborated in the Ten Commandments. Mishpatim goes in a completely different direction, and begins with the laws about acquiring a Hebrew slave.

Traditionally people were born into slavery, and they died as slaves. Here it specifies: ‘When you acquire a Hebrew slave, he will work for six years, and in the seventh year he will go free with no payment’ (Exodus 21:2). After being freed from bondage in Egypt no-one is to be condemned to a life of slavery of slavery ever again. If the Hebrew slave wishes to reject his freedom, a ritual is undertaken which involves the nailing of his ear to the doorpost of his master’s house, which leaves him as a slave for life (Exodus 21:6).

The Hebrew slave’s rights, building on his right to a day of rest (Shabbat), are revolutionary.

The rules relating to the Hebrew slave are significant, but the position of this law seems even more important. Following the Ten Commandments our law code begins with the rules relating to the Hebrew slave. Mishpatim begins with the lowest membership class in society, and mandates not just for their protection, but also their guaranteed elevation from their restricted status. The Torah teaches us that there is no point in worrying about society as a whole until the weakest members of society are protected with their rights assured.

Throughout the Torah we are constantly reminded: ‘You were slaves in Egypt’. We, who have experienced life as slaves, should know better than others about how the lowest members of society should be treated and protected. Every year on Passover we remind ourselves that we were slaves, so that we will treat others with the memory of our own persecution and suffering.

The Shabbat is revolutionary. The laws relating to the Hebrew slave are revolutionary. And the structure of our law code is revolutionary. Mishpatim guarantees the rights for the lowest members of society before concerning itself with the rest of the community.

As we read Mishpatim and are reminded of these ancient laws, we can shine a light onto our own society. Who are protected by the laws we hold dear? Who are the modern day ‘slaves’ who require our help and protection? And how can we reconnect with the revolution of Mishpatim to help and improve our own society?

Two Minutes of Torah: Yitro

When I was growing up in RSY-Netzer (the Reform Jewish youth movement) one of the values which we were always talking about was empowerment. Younger madrichim (youth leaders) were brought up through the movement by educating them, and empowering them in roles of leadership. At the age of 21 I led a four-week tour around Israel, at 22 I was the head of a summer camp for over 100 people, and at 23 I was working for RSY-Netzer and organising their entire summer provision. The youth movement empowered me in positions of responsibility that the wider society would never have presented me at those ages. And through the empowerment I grew into the positions which were entrusted to me.

At West London Synagogue it was the same thing. When I was about 17 the youth leader at the synagogue made aliyah (for those of you old enough to remember it was Gary Myers) and rather than replace him immediately, Richard Scott and I were given responsibility for youth provision while the synagogue decided how to proceed. At that age I was empowered by WLS to assume a leadership position, and I know that it is one of the factors which led me down this road to the Rabbinate, returning here to serve as one of the Rabbis.

Older, more senior people might have been able to do a better job in all of these roles, but RSY-Netzer and WLS empowered me to assume a position of leadership and responsibility.

As we read about Moses’ leadership of the Children of Israel it is clear that empowerment was not a word in his vocabulary. Together with Aaron and Miriam he led the Israelites from slavery to freedom, but he did rarely looked for others to help him in roles of responsibility.

When Yitro, his father-in-law, comes to visit in this week’s Torah portion, he watches in shock at the amount of work which has fallen on Moses’ shoulders. Yitro is aghast at the way that the people queue from morning until evening waiting for Moses to judge their legal disputes and cases (Exodus 18:13). After hearing Moses’ justification Yitro simply exclaims: “The thing you do is not good” (Exodus 18:17), he also observes “you will wear out yourself and the people.” (Exodus 18:18).

As Moses’ father-in-law Yitro obviously had a vested interest in seeing that Moses would have enough time for his wife and family, but his concern extends beyond the family. The people are also suffering. As the sole, supreme arbiter of all things Moses has robed the people of their independence, they may be free, but they are enslaved by the system which Moses has constructed.

It is bad for the people not just because they may spend hours waiting for a judgement, but because they are left infantilised, with no responsibilities or opportunities for leadership.

Yitro’s solution to set up chiefs and judges over groups of hundreds, fifties and tens (Exodus 18:21) not only provides an opportunity for Moses to spend more time with his family, but it also gives the Israelites an opportunity to assume positions of responsibility. This empowerment does not mean simply giving them responsibility and expecting the people to succeed; Yitro makes it clear that these people need to be trained and educated (Exodus 18:19-21) so that they can lead appropriately. They are given the tools, and then empowered to use them.

Yitro is honoured by having the Torah portion which includes the Ten Commandments named after him, not because he helped Moses, but because he helped the entire Israelite community, providing an opportunity for leadership and empowerment. After Yitro’s intervention the people are finally ready to receive the Ten Commandments and God’s Torah.