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We Jews are obsessed about matchmaking. There is a popular stereotype of the Jewish mother who is always trying to find a wife for her eligible sons, but actually this is a community wide activity. Our Jewish sport is setting people up. We’ve even developed a scoring system, so that according to Jewish folklore, when you score a hat-trick (having made three matches which end in marriage) you automatically guarantee yourself a place in Heaven. And this sport even has professionals, as Shadchanim (matchmakers), go around arranging shidduchim (matches) within the Jewish community (in our modern world if you visit www.shiduchim.com it will link you to an Orthodox Jewish dating site).
We have our first matchmaker in this week’s Torah portion, as Abraham entrusts his senior servant (usually associated with Eliezer of Damasek) with the task of finding a wife for Isaac. Abraham made Eliezer swear an oath ‘that you will not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites among whom I dwell, but will go to the land of my birth and get a wife for my son Isaac’ (Genesis 24:3-4). For Abraham the national identity of his son’s future wife is paramount – this may effectively be the first time a Jewish parent said: ‘I want to find a nice Jewish girl for my son,’ or words to that effect.
However, Eliezer recognised that there would be more to making a successful marriage, than a shared ancestry, and so once he had reached the well outside the city of Nahor, he made a deal with God about the type of woman he was looking for. ‘Let the maiden to whom I say, “Please, lower your jar that I may drink,” and who replies, “Drink, and I will also water your camels” – let her be the one whom You have decreed for your servant Isaac’ (Genesis 24:14). Eliezer essentially asks for a sign from God about the woman whom Isaac should marry, but through the sign he also says something about her character. An appropriate wife, in Eliezer’s opinion, is a woman who will be generous to strangers and even to their animals.
Abraham was concerned by nationality, above all else, but Eliezer, the first Shadchan, reminds us that it takes more than a shared identity to make a marriage work. To fulfil Abraham’s request, Eliezer could have brought back a variety of girls from Abraham’s homeland, and in the style of a Shushan beauty contest, he could have found a wife for Isaac. But rather than pursuing a scatter gun approach, Eliezer looked a little bit deeper, and found a prospective partner for Isaac, who had an appropriate soul and spirit.
Rebecca is a very interesting choice as a wife for Isaac. On the one hand she is a woman from Abraham’s homeland, and a member of his extended familial tribe. But we may assume that she had no idea of the covenant, of which Abraham and Isaac were both a part, and so we can also imagine that she was the first woman who converted to Judaism when marrying her husband.
We might consider that when Jewish folklore set the bar at three couples for a place in Heaven, it was setting the bar rather low. But those of us who have tried to ‘set people up’ and act as the Jewish matchmaker, know that it is not always easy. We often go by appearance or profession, without looking more deeply at whether two people will really be suited. Eliezer looked more deeply, and when the couple were introduced, ‘Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, he took Rebecca as his wife, and he loved her’ (Genesis 24:67). We know that Eliezer was at least one third of the way to Heaven.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Two Minutes of Torah: Vayera (Genesis 19:1-21) - The Real Sin of Sodom
What picture comes to mind when we hear the names Sodom and Gomorah?
These cities have become symbols of wickedness, depravity and general abusive behaviour. And their names are forever associated with any place which is deemed to have descended into evil. We can all think of examples of modern day cities which have been labelled as Sodom or Gomorah. The most common association in our contemporary society is with Las Vegas, as can be seen in the portrayal of Sodom in the film ‘Year One’ and can be read about in many articles about our modern day ‘sin-city’.
From almost the first reference in Torah, we know that Sodom is destined for destruction. ‘And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every where before Adonai destroyed Sodom and Gomorah’ (Genesis 13:10). To leave no doubt as to why the cities were destroyed the text specifies ‘the men of Sodom were exceedingly wicked and sinners before Adonai’ (Genesis 13:13). However, it offers no description of the wickedness or sin perpetuated by the people. And no additional information is given when God informs Abraham of the decision to destroy the cities: ‘because the cry of Sodom and Gomorah is great, and because their sin is very grievous’ (Genesis 18:20).
In this week’s Torah portion we gain some limited insight into the type of cities which they were, through the visit of the 2 angels. When Lot greets them he appears concerned for their safety and urges them to stay in his home (Genesis 19:3). And almost immediately the house is surrounded by the men of the city who inquire about the visitors and demand ‘bring them out unto us, so that we may know them’ (Genesis 19:5). The Hebrew is ambiguous and the request to ‘know them’ may, in the Bible, be a reference to sexual relations. The mob therefore offers another insight into the undesirable nature of the city.
Despite these Biblical references, the Rabbis decided that the sin of Sodom was something different. In Pirkei Avot (the Ethics of the Fathers) there are a series of verses which divide society into groups and categories. One of them states:
‘There are four types of people: One who says, "What is mine is mine and what is yours is yours" – this is the common type, though some say that this is the type of Sodom. One who says, "What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine" – they are an ignorant person. One who says, "What is mine is yours and what is yours is yours" – this is a saintly person. And one who says, "What is yours is mine, and what is mine is mine" – they are a wicked person’ (Pirkei Avot 5:13).
We might have expected that the Rabbis would have equated the behaviour of the ‘wicked person’ with ‘the type of Sodom’, but instead they suggest that the ‘common type’, saying “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours”, is associated with Sodom. This is a striking statement about what a sinful city is like; it is not a den of depravity and vice, it is a place where people are only concerned with their own possessions and well-being.
Sodom was punished for being the ‘common type’. Rather than looking for extreme examples as our modern day Sodom and Gomorah; perhaps we should look at our own cities, and the places where we live. Wherever people are only concerned about their own possessions and well-being – it could be Sodom; where people ignore the community and focus only on themselves – it could be Gomorah. With this understanding we can challenge the sin of Sodom and Gomorah, not just in extreme examples, but in ourselves and our own cities; and perhaps this is the lesson which the Rabbis wanted to teach.
These cities have become symbols of wickedness, depravity and general abusive behaviour. And their names are forever associated with any place which is deemed to have descended into evil. We can all think of examples of modern day cities which have been labelled as Sodom or Gomorah. The most common association in our contemporary society is with Las Vegas, as can be seen in the portrayal of Sodom in the film ‘Year One’ and can be read about in many articles about our modern day ‘sin-city’.
From almost the first reference in Torah, we know that Sodom is destined for destruction. ‘And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every where before Adonai destroyed Sodom and Gomorah’ (Genesis 13:10). To leave no doubt as to why the cities were destroyed the text specifies ‘the men of Sodom were exceedingly wicked and sinners before Adonai’ (Genesis 13:13). However, it offers no description of the wickedness or sin perpetuated by the people. And no additional information is given when God informs Abraham of the decision to destroy the cities: ‘because the cry of Sodom and Gomorah is great, and because their sin is very grievous’ (Genesis 18:20).
In this week’s Torah portion we gain some limited insight into the type of cities which they were, through the visit of the 2 angels. When Lot greets them he appears concerned for their safety and urges them to stay in his home (Genesis 19:3). And almost immediately the house is surrounded by the men of the city who inquire about the visitors and demand ‘bring them out unto us, so that we may know them’ (Genesis 19:5). The Hebrew is ambiguous and the request to ‘know them’ may, in the Bible, be a reference to sexual relations. The mob therefore offers another insight into the undesirable nature of the city.
Despite these Biblical references, the Rabbis decided that the sin of Sodom was something different. In Pirkei Avot (the Ethics of the Fathers) there are a series of verses which divide society into groups and categories. One of them states:
‘There are four types of people: One who says, "What is mine is mine and what is yours is yours" – this is the common type, though some say that this is the type of Sodom. One who says, "What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine" – they are an ignorant person. One who says, "What is mine is yours and what is yours is yours" – this is a saintly person. And one who says, "What is yours is mine, and what is mine is mine" – they are a wicked person’ (Pirkei Avot 5:13).
We might have expected that the Rabbis would have equated the behaviour of the ‘wicked person’ with ‘the type of Sodom’, but instead they suggest that the ‘common type’, saying “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours”, is associated with Sodom. This is a striking statement about what a sinful city is like; it is not a den of depravity and vice, it is a place where people are only concerned with their own possessions and well-being.
Sodom was punished for being the ‘common type’. Rather than looking for extreme examples as our modern day Sodom and Gomorah; perhaps we should look at our own cities, and the places where we live. Wherever people are only concerned about their own possessions and well-being – it could be Sodom; where people ignore the community and focus only on themselves – it could be Gomorah. With this understanding we can challenge the sin of Sodom and Gomorah, not just in extreme examples, but in ourselves and our own cities; and perhaps this is the lesson which the Rabbis wanted to teach.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The father of IVF finally has the fame his name deserves
(This Article was originally published in The Jewish News on the 14th October)
Last week, for a couple of days, Professor Robert Edwards became one of the lead stories across the British press. Most newspapers dedicated significant column inches towards celebrating the achievements of the man known as the ‘father of IVF’. I have to be honest, before last week I had not heard of Professor Edwards, but by the end of it I had a basic understanding of his research, and can tell you that more than four million children have been born worldwide as a result of his groundbreaking work. In reading about this man, his perseverance and dedication to his quest is something highly admirable. And his is definitely a name I will now remember.
Professor Edwards was the first recipient of a Nobel Prize for 2010. Since him, five other awards have been granted.
The Nobel Prize is a world-renowned award given to people for work in a variety of fields including literature and peace. Many recipients of the Prize, such as Professor Edwards, have fascinating stories to tell about their work and research, and they are worthy recipients of recognition and admiration. In many cases, they are people who may have remained anonymous outside of their field, were it not for the Nobel Prize, which has undoubtedly made their names more widely known. There is one name, however – the most recognised name associated with the prize – which was already very famous before it became associated with the prize itself.
That name is Alfred Nobel.
On the 13 April 1888, Alfred Nobel awoke to discover that he had died. Or at least that is what one French newspaper reported, as it carried an obituary for the inventor. More shocking than seeing his name in the obituary was the description Nobel found within it. The tribute stated: “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday.” It also carried the line: “The merchant of death is dead”. Alfred Nobel’s shock on reading about his demise was not limited to the obvious fact that he was very much alive. He was also shocked, and deeply distraught by the way in which his life and his name were destined to be remembered.
As it turns out, the French newspaper got the wrong Nobel. It was actually Alfred's brother, Ludwig, who had died the previous day. This unfortunate accident turned out to be quite fortuitous as Alfred Nobel gained something few of us ever receive: an insight into the way we would be remembered after his death. Needless to say he was less than excited about the prospect of being known as 'The merchant of death'.
He was given an extra eight years, until his actual passing on 10 December 1896, to change the way that the world viewed and remembered him. In his last will and testament the bulk of his estate was left for the establishment of prizes in the sciences, literary works, peace, and now economics. Alfred Nobel is still the inventor of dynamite, but today his name is first and foremost associated with prizes awarded to the great and good in society. His name is therefore forever linked with celebrated Nobel Prize winners including Isaac Bashevis Singer, Yitzhak Rabin, Elie Wiesel and now Professor Edwards.
This week, as we read the story of Lech Lecha, when God made the initial call to Abraham, we read about the promise that Abraham received, which included within it the line: ‘I will make your name great’.
Included within the pledge that Abraham will be the founder of a great nation is the idea that Abraham will also possess a great name.
This was a promise about the type of person Abraham would become and the way in which he would be remembered. It was not about a literal name, but rather the reputation which would accompany his name – something he would earn for himself through his life and his actions.
Professor Robert Edwards has a great name in the Abrahamic sense, because of his important work and research in the field of medicine, helping millions of people to create life. The Nobel Prize did not make his name great, it simply gave his name the fame it deserved.
Through his will, Alfred Nobel changed his name from one associated with dynamite and death to one which is now linked to the words scientist, inventor, entrepreneur, author and pacifist. We can’t all endow millions to establish trusts and ensure our legacies. But through our words, our behaviour and our actions, we can gain for ourselves names which we can be proud of.
We may never achieve the fame which accompanies the receipt of a Nobel Prize, but it is within our control to fulfil our Jewish birthright of establishing for ourselves a great name.
Last week, for a couple of days, Professor Robert Edwards became one of the lead stories across the British press. Most newspapers dedicated significant column inches towards celebrating the achievements of the man known as the ‘father of IVF’. I have to be honest, before last week I had not heard of Professor Edwards, but by the end of it I had a basic understanding of his research, and can tell you that more than four million children have been born worldwide as a result of his groundbreaking work. In reading about this man, his perseverance and dedication to his quest is something highly admirable. And his is definitely a name I will now remember.
Professor Edwards was the first recipient of a Nobel Prize for 2010. Since him, five other awards have been granted.
The Nobel Prize is a world-renowned award given to people for work in a variety of fields including literature and peace. Many recipients of the Prize, such as Professor Edwards, have fascinating stories to tell about their work and research, and they are worthy recipients of recognition and admiration. In many cases, they are people who may have remained anonymous outside of their field, were it not for the Nobel Prize, which has undoubtedly made their names more widely known. There is one name, however – the most recognised name associated with the prize – which was already very famous before it became associated with the prize itself.
That name is Alfred Nobel.
On the 13 April 1888, Alfred Nobel awoke to discover that he had died. Or at least that is what one French newspaper reported, as it carried an obituary for the inventor. More shocking than seeing his name in the obituary was the description Nobel found within it. The tribute stated: “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before, died yesterday.” It also carried the line: “The merchant of death is dead”. Alfred Nobel’s shock on reading about his demise was not limited to the obvious fact that he was very much alive. He was also shocked, and deeply distraught by the way in which his life and his name were destined to be remembered.
As it turns out, the French newspaper got the wrong Nobel. It was actually Alfred's brother, Ludwig, who had died the previous day. This unfortunate accident turned out to be quite fortuitous as Alfred Nobel gained something few of us ever receive: an insight into the way we would be remembered after his death. Needless to say he was less than excited about the prospect of being known as 'The merchant of death'.
He was given an extra eight years, until his actual passing on 10 December 1896, to change the way that the world viewed and remembered him. In his last will and testament the bulk of his estate was left for the establishment of prizes in the sciences, literary works, peace, and now economics. Alfred Nobel is still the inventor of dynamite, but today his name is first and foremost associated with prizes awarded to the great and good in society. His name is therefore forever linked with celebrated Nobel Prize winners including Isaac Bashevis Singer, Yitzhak Rabin, Elie Wiesel and now Professor Edwards.
This week, as we read the story of Lech Lecha, when God made the initial call to Abraham, we read about the promise that Abraham received, which included within it the line: ‘I will make your name great’.
Included within the pledge that Abraham will be the founder of a great nation is the idea that Abraham will also possess a great name.
This was a promise about the type of person Abraham would become and the way in which he would be remembered. It was not about a literal name, but rather the reputation which would accompany his name – something he would earn for himself through his life and his actions.
Professor Robert Edwards has a great name in the Abrahamic sense, because of his important work and research in the field of medicine, helping millions of people to create life. The Nobel Prize did not make his name great, it simply gave his name the fame it deserved.
Through his will, Alfred Nobel changed his name from one associated with dynamite and death to one which is now linked to the words scientist, inventor, entrepreneur, author and pacifist. We can’t all endow millions to establish trusts and ensure our legacies. But through our words, our behaviour and our actions, we can gain for ourselves names which we can be proud of.
We may never achieve the fame which accompanies the receipt of a Nobel Prize, but it is within our control to fulfil our Jewish birthright of establishing for ourselves a great name.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
My Sermon - 15th October - The Good News from Chile
There are certain events which unite a community. Then there are some events which unite a nation. And occasionally there are events which transcend boundaries and unite the world.
This week we witnessed one of those events.
From the early hours of Wednesday morning, through into Thursday, the world was united. Across the globe, in every continent and every country, we were captivated by a single story. We were transfixed by a single miraculous event.
We watched the inspiring rescue of 33 Chilean miners from an underground prison, which had threatened their lives and their sanity. We watched as a capsule was sent down into the depths of the earth, and we bore witness to the rebirth of each one of the 33 miners as they emerged out of the darkness and into the light.
For a period of just over twenty-four hours no matter where you were in the world, we were all on the same side; we were all hoping and praying for the same outcome, we were united in anticipation.
There was nervous trepidation at first, as we watched the capsule descend and rise; uncertain as to whether it would be able to fulfill its heroic mission. Then, as the capsule bore fruit, rescuing those first few miners, the mood changed to one of anticipation, would this story really have a happy ending? And as the number of miners on the surface grew, the atmosphere became one of charged excitement. Watching the embrace between Chile’s President and the thirty-third man out, Luis Urzua, was a moment of joy, relief, excitement, celebration and gratitude all rolled into one.
Each one of us will have one image or picture which will stay with us from those miraculous 24 hours. I will remember the sight of the daughter of Richard Villarroel Goody, the twenty-eighth miner out. She stood holding her Chilean flag, barely able to contain her excitement at seeing her father again after over two months. As his harness was removed you could hear her calling out, and then we watched as father and daughter embraced, holding onto each other with an intensity we probably can never fully understand.
The topographer, Maria Valdes, whose careful work back in August was crucial in locating the miners, and discovering that they were still alive, said yesterday that the rescue was 75% engineering and 25% miracle. None of us who watched the rescue could fail to acknowledge the miraculous dimension to the proceedings in Chile. The miners were in isolation, without confirmation of life or death for 17 days, and they survived underground for 69 days. It was a miracle they survived, it was a miracle they were found, and it was a miracle that all 33 were rescued alive. Human ingenuity and engineering played its part, but we should have our eyes open to the miracle which we have witnessed.
This is a miracle in which humanity and God played their part together, as the perfect partners. The miners prayed together. Out of the depths they called out to God, and God answered. Ricardo Villaroel, described how the experience of being in the mine renewed his faith in God, he said: ‘I never used to pray, here I learned to pray. I got closer to God.’ Another miner, Jimmy Sanchez, wrote in a letter prior to his rescue: ‘There are actually 34 of us, because God has never left us down here.’ We should see God’s face in the background of this miraculous story, but we should also see the shining beacon which can be humanity.
This was a moment which united the world, across the globe people gathered together to watch and listen to news of the miraculous rescue of the Chilean miners. All too often our news is a depressing drumbeat of negative stories and gloomy incidents. We read about the rise in unemployment and a shaky economy, we see pictures of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, we watch as floods and tsunamis rob people of their homes, and we witness the destructive force of man.
But this time we got to watch a good news story, we got to watch a story about rescue and relief, rather than death and destruction.
And we watched it along with the rest of the world. On Thursday morning there was really only one story. Here in Britain, the Daily Telegraph ran with the headline: ‘The Miracle of San Jose’, according to the Dutch newspaper Volkskrant: ‘Hardly anyone had ever heard of the San Jose mine beforehand but now it's the centre of the world’. The South China Morning Post proclaimed: ‘Prayers, Tears and Jubilation’, and according to Germany’s Die Welt, ‘Nearly a billion people followed the rescue by internet, on the radio or the television’.
In a way that was worthy of the worldwide attention, the meticulously planned rescue was a truly international effort. A U.S. company supplied the drilling technology that broke through to the miners. NASA donated a high-calorie liquid diet. An Austrian company made the capsule's winch-and-pulley system. And there were numerous offers of help from every corner of the globe.
Why were we in London so concerned with the plight of 33 miners over 7,000 miles away on the other side of the world?
I think that all of us have grown tired and disillusioned with our regular diet of bad news and depressing storylines. The rescue of the Chilean miners allowed us to gain a glimpse of something else. It allowed us to watch a good news story, one which brought us tears of joy, and not sadness. It was a story in which we could take pride in our human achievements, rather than recoiling at human failure and frailty.
We recognised the value of each life, and in the faces of those miners we saw our own fathers, brothers, cousins, nephews, friends and relatives. We recognised the common humanity which we all share. Our eyes were opened to the spark of God present within all of us.
For a moment the world was not divided by colour, creed, race or religion, we were united by our common humanity.
Last week in our Torah we read the story of Noah, and we read about the rainbow which God placed in the sky as a sign of God’s covenant with all of humanity. After the flood and the apocalyptic destruction of virtually the entire world, God placed a rainbow in the sky as a sign that God will never destroy the world again, and as a symbol of the covenant between God and all of humanity – not just one religion or another – but with each and every one of us.
The rainbow brings together seven different colours, creating a whole, which is significantly more spectacular and beautiful than the sum of its parts. It is representative of the different elements which make up the human race. We come in all shapes, sizes, colours, creeds, religions and races. Each group possesses an individual beauty, but it is together that humanity is truly spectacular and awe inspiring.
The rainbow was the symbol for a united humanity in the Torah, and this week 33 miners became our modern sign that this dream is still possible.
This week we watched 33 miners emerge from darkness into light, and as a world we waited together, we watched together and we celebrated together. The rescue was a miracle, but so too was the way in which we gained a glimpse into the potential we have to come together, putting aside petty divisions and disagreements to share in the successes and accomplishments of the whole human race.
On this desolate patch of Chilean desert, in a place called Camp Hope, we were given a clear message: Human life is precious and we must all be united in saving and preserving it. This week as we saw the world united, we gained a glimpse of the messianic age. It is now our task to take the experiences of this past week forward and to build a world in which we are united not just in the face of adversity, but in the faces of each other.
This week we witnessed one of those events.
From the early hours of Wednesday morning, through into Thursday, the world was united. Across the globe, in every continent and every country, we were captivated by a single story. We were transfixed by a single miraculous event.
We watched the inspiring rescue of 33 Chilean miners from an underground prison, which had threatened their lives and their sanity. We watched as a capsule was sent down into the depths of the earth, and we bore witness to the rebirth of each one of the 33 miners as they emerged out of the darkness and into the light.
For a period of just over twenty-four hours no matter where you were in the world, we were all on the same side; we were all hoping and praying for the same outcome, we were united in anticipation.
There was nervous trepidation at first, as we watched the capsule descend and rise; uncertain as to whether it would be able to fulfill its heroic mission. Then, as the capsule bore fruit, rescuing those first few miners, the mood changed to one of anticipation, would this story really have a happy ending? And as the number of miners on the surface grew, the atmosphere became one of charged excitement. Watching the embrace between Chile’s President and the thirty-third man out, Luis Urzua, was a moment of joy, relief, excitement, celebration and gratitude all rolled into one.
Each one of us will have one image or picture which will stay with us from those miraculous 24 hours. I will remember the sight of the daughter of Richard Villarroel Goody, the twenty-eighth miner out. She stood holding her Chilean flag, barely able to contain her excitement at seeing her father again after over two months. As his harness was removed you could hear her calling out, and then we watched as father and daughter embraced, holding onto each other with an intensity we probably can never fully understand.
The topographer, Maria Valdes, whose careful work back in August was crucial in locating the miners, and discovering that they were still alive, said yesterday that the rescue was 75% engineering and 25% miracle. None of us who watched the rescue could fail to acknowledge the miraculous dimension to the proceedings in Chile. The miners were in isolation, without confirmation of life or death for 17 days, and they survived underground for 69 days. It was a miracle they survived, it was a miracle they were found, and it was a miracle that all 33 were rescued alive. Human ingenuity and engineering played its part, but we should have our eyes open to the miracle which we have witnessed.
This is a miracle in which humanity and God played their part together, as the perfect partners. The miners prayed together. Out of the depths they called out to God, and God answered. Ricardo Villaroel, described how the experience of being in the mine renewed his faith in God, he said: ‘I never used to pray, here I learned to pray. I got closer to God.’ Another miner, Jimmy Sanchez, wrote in a letter prior to his rescue: ‘There are actually 34 of us, because God has never left us down here.’ We should see God’s face in the background of this miraculous story, but we should also see the shining beacon which can be humanity.
This was a moment which united the world, across the globe people gathered together to watch and listen to news of the miraculous rescue of the Chilean miners. All too often our news is a depressing drumbeat of negative stories and gloomy incidents. We read about the rise in unemployment and a shaky economy, we see pictures of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, we watch as floods and tsunamis rob people of their homes, and we witness the destructive force of man.
But this time we got to watch a good news story, we got to watch a story about rescue and relief, rather than death and destruction.
And we watched it along with the rest of the world. On Thursday morning there was really only one story. Here in Britain, the Daily Telegraph ran with the headline: ‘The Miracle of San Jose’, according to the Dutch newspaper Volkskrant: ‘Hardly anyone had ever heard of the San Jose mine beforehand but now it's the centre of the world’. The South China Morning Post proclaimed: ‘Prayers, Tears and Jubilation’, and according to Germany’s Die Welt, ‘Nearly a billion people followed the rescue by internet, on the radio or the television’.
In a way that was worthy of the worldwide attention, the meticulously planned rescue was a truly international effort. A U.S. company supplied the drilling technology that broke through to the miners. NASA donated a high-calorie liquid diet. An Austrian company made the capsule's winch-and-pulley system. And there were numerous offers of help from every corner of the globe.
Why were we in London so concerned with the plight of 33 miners over 7,000 miles away on the other side of the world?
I think that all of us have grown tired and disillusioned with our regular diet of bad news and depressing storylines. The rescue of the Chilean miners allowed us to gain a glimpse of something else. It allowed us to watch a good news story, one which brought us tears of joy, and not sadness. It was a story in which we could take pride in our human achievements, rather than recoiling at human failure and frailty.
We recognised the value of each life, and in the faces of those miners we saw our own fathers, brothers, cousins, nephews, friends and relatives. We recognised the common humanity which we all share. Our eyes were opened to the spark of God present within all of us.
For a moment the world was not divided by colour, creed, race or religion, we were united by our common humanity.
Last week in our Torah we read the story of Noah, and we read about the rainbow which God placed in the sky as a sign of God’s covenant with all of humanity. After the flood and the apocalyptic destruction of virtually the entire world, God placed a rainbow in the sky as a sign that God will never destroy the world again, and as a symbol of the covenant between God and all of humanity – not just one religion or another – but with each and every one of us.
The rainbow brings together seven different colours, creating a whole, which is significantly more spectacular and beautiful than the sum of its parts. It is representative of the different elements which make up the human race. We come in all shapes, sizes, colours, creeds, religions and races. Each group possesses an individual beauty, but it is together that humanity is truly spectacular and awe inspiring.
The rainbow was the symbol for a united humanity in the Torah, and this week 33 miners became our modern sign that this dream is still possible.
This week we watched 33 miners emerge from darkness into light, and as a world we waited together, we watched together and we celebrated together. The rescue was a miracle, but so too was the way in which we gained a glimpse into the potential we have to come together, putting aside petty divisions and disagreements to share in the successes and accomplishments of the whole human race.
On this desolate patch of Chilean desert, in a place called Camp Hope, we were given a clear message: Human life is precious and we must all be united in saving and preserving it. This week as we saw the world united, we gained a glimpse of the messianic age. It is now our task to take the experiences of this past week forward and to build a world in which we are united not just in the face of adversity, but in the faces of each other.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Two Minutes of Torah: Lech Lecha (Genesis 15:1-21) - Where do babies come from?
“Where do babies come from?”
According to popular culture, parents live in perpetual fear of their children asking this question. It seems likely that the unease over giving an adequate answer was part of the reason why parents in Victorian England would tell their children: “the stork delivers them.” I guess if you’re not going to tell them the truth, it’s as believable as anything else. The image of the stork delivering babies is very prominent in popular culture; I am especially fond of the stork who delivered the baby elephant, Dumbo, to his mother in the famous Disney film.
However, despite our unease, we all know that it takes a man and a woman to make a baby. And ultimately parents need to have a frank conversation with their children, teaching them the truth about where babies come from. This knowledge makes Sarai’s absence from Genesis 15 very striking, as God and Abram discuss his lack of an heir.
When the Torah first introduced us to Abram and Sarai we were told ‘Sarai was barren, she had no children’ (Genesis 11:30). This fact has therefore been in the background throughout Abram’s story. When God said to Abram: ‘unto your seed will I give this land’ (Genesis 12:7) we were that there was no child to inherit the promise. Similarly, when God promised ‘and I will make your seed as the dust of the earth’ (Genesis 13:16) we know there is no seed. Only in Genesis 15 does Abram finally raise the issue of childlessness with God; ‘”My Lord Adonai, what will you give me, seeing I am childless and the steward of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” And Abram said: “behold to me you have given no seed”’ (Genesis 15:2-3).
There is no mention of Sarai or her barrenness in this discussion. Abram specifically does not say: “we are childless” or “to us you have given no seed.” He ignores the fact that Sarai also had no children to love, care for and nurture. It is as though God, not the stork, will deliver a baby to Abram, with no need for Sarai to be involved.
The promise which Abram receives therefore speaks only to him. When God declares: ‘none but your very own issue shall be your heir’ (Genesis 15:4) Sarai is not mentioned; she is given no similar pledge that she will become a mother. It is little surprise that following this deal, struck between God and Abram, Sarai comes and offers Abram her maidservant Hagar (Genesis 16:1-3), so that there will be the chance for Abram to have an heir.
One cannot begin to imagine how Sarai must have felt; unable to provide Abram with a son, she invites another woman to share her husband’s bed so that he may have an heir. After the encounter between God and Abram it is little surprise that our Patriarch voices no opposition and simply ‘listened to the voice of Sarai’ (Genesis 16:2). The stork will not bring them a child, instead Hagar will provide Abram with the heir he has yearned for, his firstborn son Ishmael.
Abram neglected to consider the feelings of his wife Sarai, as he pursued his dream of having a son. The repercussions of this act come later in the narrative, when Sarah (by this time her name has changed) gives birth to her son Isaac, and very soon after demands that Abraham (his name was also changed) expel his firstborn son Ishmael and Hagar, the mother of his firstborn (Genesis 21). Sarah does not worry about Abraham’s feelings, and the relationship between father and son is irreparably broken – the next time they are mentioned together is when Ishmael, together with Isaac, bury their father (Genesis 25:9).
According to popular culture, parents live in perpetual fear of their children asking this question. It seems likely that the unease over giving an adequate answer was part of the reason why parents in Victorian England would tell their children: “the stork delivers them.” I guess if you’re not going to tell them the truth, it’s as believable as anything else. The image of the stork delivering babies is very prominent in popular culture; I am especially fond of the stork who delivered the baby elephant, Dumbo, to his mother in the famous Disney film.
However, despite our unease, we all know that it takes a man and a woman to make a baby. And ultimately parents need to have a frank conversation with their children, teaching them the truth about where babies come from. This knowledge makes Sarai’s absence from Genesis 15 very striking, as God and Abram discuss his lack of an heir.
When the Torah first introduced us to Abram and Sarai we were told ‘Sarai was barren, she had no children’ (Genesis 11:30). This fact has therefore been in the background throughout Abram’s story. When God said to Abram: ‘unto your seed will I give this land’ (Genesis 12:7) we were that there was no child to inherit the promise. Similarly, when God promised ‘and I will make your seed as the dust of the earth’ (Genesis 13:16) we know there is no seed. Only in Genesis 15 does Abram finally raise the issue of childlessness with God; ‘”My Lord Adonai, what will you give me, seeing I am childless and the steward of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” And Abram said: “behold to me you have given no seed”’ (Genesis 15:2-3).
There is no mention of Sarai or her barrenness in this discussion. Abram specifically does not say: “we are childless” or “to us you have given no seed.” He ignores the fact that Sarai also had no children to love, care for and nurture. It is as though God, not the stork, will deliver a baby to Abram, with no need for Sarai to be involved.
The promise which Abram receives therefore speaks only to him. When God declares: ‘none but your very own issue shall be your heir’ (Genesis 15:4) Sarai is not mentioned; she is given no similar pledge that she will become a mother. It is little surprise that following this deal, struck between God and Abram, Sarai comes and offers Abram her maidservant Hagar (Genesis 16:1-3), so that there will be the chance for Abram to have an heir.
One cannot begin to imagine how Sarai must have felt; unable to provide Abram with a son, she invites another woman to share her husband’s bed so that he may have an heir. After the encounter between God and Abram it is little surprise that our Patriarch voices no opposition and simply ‘listened to the voice of Sarai’ (Genesis 16:2). The stork will not bring them a child, instead Hagar will provide Abram with the heir he has yearned for, his firstborn son Ishmael.
Abram neglected to consider the feelings of his wife Sarai, as he pursued his dream of having a son. The repercussions of this act come later in the narrative, when Sarah (by this time her name has changed) gives birth to her son Isaac, and very soon after demands that Abraham (his name was also changed) expel his firstborn son Ishmael and Hagar, the mother of his firstborn (Genesis 21). Sarah does not worry about Abraham’s feelings, and the relationship between father and son is irreparably broken – the next time they are mentioned together is when Ishmael, together with Isaac, bury their father (Genesis 25:9).
Saturday, October 9, 2010
My Sermon - 9th October - Be Fruitful and Multiply
“Coincidence is the word we use when we can’t see the levers and pulleys.” These are the words of the author Emma Bull, and I am really keen on this idea. As a person of faith I agree with Albert Einstein that coincidence is Gods way of remaining anonymous. We may see the connection of events as accidental, but really there is something behind the apparent random occurrences. I am not sure if it was God or the editors of various news media, but Monday threw up a wonderful coincidence, which was just too good to ignore.
Those of us who were watching, or listening, to the news on Monday could not have missed the lead story across the networks, as cuts to child benefit became the day’s major headline. On the second day of the Conservative Party conference, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, announced that families with one parent who is a high rate tax payer, would no longer receive child benefit. The press grew very animated as they reported and discussed the rights and wrongs of this new policy. I am not about to offer a political perspective, I was just fascinated by the story which followed, and as I’ve been married for less than 2 years, there is time before I need to offer my personal opinion.
On the same day, the second item on most news broadcasts involved Professor Robert Edwards and his receipt of the Nobel Prize for Medicine. Professor Edwards was honoured for his work researching and developing IVF treatment to help people who have struggled with fertility to have a child. According to the reports there are over four million people in the world today, born as a result of his pioneering work and the successes achieved by Professor Robert Edwards.
If this was not coincidence enough, our Torah reading today began with the verse: “And God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them “Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.”’ This command was first given to the animals, then to Adam and Eve, and now it is shared with Noah and his family. The creator of In Vitro Fertilisation, who has helped millions to be fruitful and multiply, has been honoured as we read about this command in the Torah, while raising those children has become more expensive for some. A coincidence indeed!
In the Torah, at no place when we are told to be fruitful and multiply are we told what to do with the children once we have given birth to them. In the context of the story of Noah it seems that simply having lots of children will fulfil the obligation – the earth will be replenished. We may have hoped for more guidance about what to do once a baby is born. What are our responsibilities once we have children? How should we raise our children? And what responsibilities do we have to other people’s children?
In the Talmud, which unfortunately only concerns itself with the man and his son, we are told: ‘Our Rabbis taught: The father is obligated in respect of his son, to circumcise him, to redeem him (if he is a firstborn), to teach him Torah, to take a wife for him, and to teach him a craft. Some add to this list that he must teach him to swim too.’ The list is indicative of the Rabbinic understanding of what a child requires from their parents, and about how they must be raised.
It is first of all clear that a religious identity is crucial, and while the text only mentions circumcision, one can assume that this is symbolic of parents sharing their religious heritage with their children. The next parental responsibility is education, specifically in this context the education of Torah. I like to think that the Torah provides us with a moral and ethical code by which we should live our lives, and so in this way, the Rabbinic instruction is about raising children to be responsible, positive, valuable members of society.
Having raised a good Jewish boy, it is then in Jewish parents eyes, or dare I say Jewish mothers eyes, the time to find him a partner, a Jewish partner of course. And according to the Talmud it is clear that this is the parents responsibility as well. I am not sure how keen children are on their parents acting as match maker, but it is almost inbuilt into our Jewish DNA, we try to match-make the whole time, be it for family members, friends, or even people we hardly know. As a community we take this responsibility very seriously – in our modern context, I wonder how many parents pay for their children’s J-Date registration, so that they can surf the internet looking for a Jewish partner.
The education does not stop there, and the child must be taught a craft, or a trade, so that in turn they can become self-sufficient and ultimately financially independent of their parents. All of these obligations would appear to be very logical and important for helping children to grow up. And then the text adds an additional opinion, which supplements the list with the need to teach a child to swim. Maybe this is about giving children the tools to protect themselves from potentially dangerous situations. Or maybe it reminds us that we must also have fun with our children, and not everything needs to be serious with a specific purpose.
But what if there are no parents to fulfil these obligations? At this point according to the Talmud the responsibility falls upon the entire community. When there are no parents we all share a responsibility in raising the children, and I would suggest even when there are parents we still share that responsibility as members of the same community and society.
Whatever a person might think about the rights or wrongs of the recently announced policy, which will cut child benefit; the existence of child benefit makes a statement about society and the way we relate to other people’s children. Child benefit is a statement by the government that we are all invested in the raising of children. We all have a responsibility to contribute to help families raise their children. And one can assume that ultimately we, society, will all benefit from raising the next generation in an appropriate way.
The famous African quote suggests that it takes a village to raise a child.
Child benefit is one way that the village can help to raise a child, but I would suggest we need to be much more hands on in helping each other to raise the next generation. Our society has become individualised and privatised in almost every sphere, and parenting is no exception. While I am not denying that parents bear the primary responsibility for raising their own children, each one of us also has a responsibility and obligation. As a community we have a responsibility not just for our own children, but for the children of this community.
Eleven hours after Moses Goodrich was born in January 2009, his mother died. His grieving father Robbie did not know how he would raise his son, and he was especially concerned that he would be unable to fulfil his wife’s wish of having her son breastfed. He ordered $500 of frozen breast milk as he prepared to care for his newborn son. The next day a friend called and offered to breastfeed Moses, within weeks there were 25 women who had taken responsibility for raising and feeding Moses. He did not have a mother to raise him, but he had a community.
People come together in times of need to help with the responsibilities of raising children. We need to come together at all times to help each other to be the most accomplished parents we can be, and to raise children who are caring, educated, know right from wrong, and who will, themselves, make a contribution to community and to society.
One way that we, as a community, already do this is by investing in our Religion School to provide our children with a good Jewish education. The Synagogue has prioritised our children’s education and has invested to make sure that they are taught Torah by wonderful teachers in a great environment.
But Torah education is just one of the responsibilities the Talmud lays out for parents and their children. We also need to provide them with a connection to their religious heritage – we need to bring them into the synagogue and encourage them to be a part of our prayer community. We have reintroduced the monthly Birthday Kiddush to celebrate the children, but we actually need to welcome them every week. Occasionally this might mean accepting a little bit of noise from our youngest children, but this seems like a small price to pay for fulfilling our religious responsibility towards them.
In this week’s Torah portion we are told to be fruitful and multiply. The important work of Professor Robert Edwards, which was honoured this week, helped to make this a possibility for millions of people. And in the same week the financial support for raising children was reduced. We need to fill that financial gap with our hard work, our involvement and our action. We all share the responsibility of raising our children – we don’t have villages to raise a child, but we have synagogues, and in this community we don’t need to just bless our children with our words, we can also bless them with our actions. And the impact of our actions will be heard further and louder than our words ever could be.
Those of us who were watching, or listening, to the news on Monday could not have missed the lead story across the networks, as cuts to child benefit became the day’s major headline. On the second day of the Conservative Party conference, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, announced that families with one parent who is a high rate tax payer, would no longer receive child benefit. The press grew very animated as they reported and discussed the rights and wrongs of this new policy. I am not about to offer a political perspective, I was just fascinated by the story which followed, and as I’ve been married for less than 2 years, there is time before I need to offer my personal opinion.
On the same day, the second item on most news broadcasts involved Professor Robert Edwards and his receipt of the Nobel Prize for Medicine. Professor Edwards was honoured for his work researching and developing IVF treatment to help people who have struggled with fertility to have a child. According to the reports there are over four million people in the world today, born as a result of his pioneering work and the successes achieved by Professor Robert Edwards.
If this was not coincidence enough, our Torah reading today began with the verse: “And God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them “Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.”’ This command was first given to the animals, then to Adam and Eve, and now it is shared with Noah and his family. The creator of In Vitro Fertilisation, who has helped millions to be fruitful and multiply, has been honoured as we read about this command in the Torah, while raising those children has become more expensive for some. A coincidence indeed!
In the Torah, at no place when we are told to be fruitful and multiply are we told what to do with the children once we have given birth to them. In the context of the story of Noah it seems that simply having lots of children will fulfil the obligation – the earth will be replenished. We may have hoped for more guidance about what to do once a baby is born. What are our responsibilities once we have children? How should we raise our children? And what responsibilities do we have to other people’s children?
In the Talmud, which unfortunately only concerns itself with the man and his son, we are told: ‘Our Rabbis taught: The father is obligated in respect of his son, to circumcise him, to redeem him (if he is a firstborn), to teach him Torah, to take a wife for him, and to teach him a craft. Some add to this list that he must teach him to swim too.’ The list is indicative of the Rabbinic understanding of what a child requires from their parents, and about how they must be raised.
It is first of all clear that a religious identity is crucial, and while the text only mentions circumcision, one can assume that this is symbolic of parents sharing their religious heritage with their children. The next parental responsibility is education, specifically in this context the education of Torah. I like to think that the Torah provides us with a moral and ethical code by which we should live our lives, and so in this way, the Rabbinic instruction is about raising children to be responsible, positive, valuable members of society.
Having raised a good Jewish boy, it is then in Jewish parents eyes, or dare I say Jewish mothers eyes, the time to find him a partner, a Jewish partner of course. And according to the Talmud it is clear that this is the parents responsibility as well. I am not sure how keen children are on their parents acting as match maker, but it is almost inbuilt into our Jewish DNA, we try to match-make the whole time, be it for family members, friends, or even people we hardly know. As a community we take this responsibility very seriously – in our modern context, I wonder how many parents pay for their children’s J-Date registration, so that they can surf the internet looking for a Jewish partner.
The education does not stop there, and the child must be taught a craft, or a trade, so that in turn they can become self-sufficient and ultimately financially independent of their parents. All of these obligations would appear to be very logical and important for helping children to grow up. And then the text adds an additional opinion, which supplements the list with the need to teach a child to swim. Maybe this is about giving children the tools to protect themselves from potentially dangerous situations. Or maybe it reminds us that we must also have fun with our children, and not everything needs to be serious with a specific purpose.
But what if there are no parents to fulfil these obligations? At this point according to the Talmud the responsibility falls upon the entire community. When there are no parents we all share a responsibility in raising the children, and I would suggest even when there are parents we still share that responsibility as members of the same community and society.
Whatever a person might think about the rights or wrongs of the recently announced policy, which will cut child benefit; the existence of child benefit makes a statement about society and the way we relate to other people’s children. Child benefit is a statement by the government that we are all invested in the raising of children. We all have a responsibility to contribute to help families raise their children. And one can assume that ultimately we, society, will all benefit from raising the next generation in an appropriate way.
The famous African quote suggests that it takes a village to raise a child.
Child benefit is one way that the village can help to raise a child, but I would suggest we need to be much more hands on in helping each other to raise the next generation. Our society has become individualised and privatised in almost every sphere, and parenting is no exception. While I am not denying that parents bear the primary responsibility for raising their own children, each one of us also has a responsibility and obligation. As a community we have a responsibility not just for our own children, but for the children of this community.
Eleven hours after Moses Goodrich was born in January 2009, his mother died. His grieving father Robbie did not know how he would raise his son, and he was especially concerned that he would be unable to fulfil his wife’s wish of having her son breastfed. He ordered $500 of frozen breast milk as he prepared to care for his newborn son. The next day a friend called and offered to breastfeed Moses, within weeks there were 25 women who had taken responsibility for raising and feeding Moses. He did not have a mother to raise him, but he had a community.
People come together in times of need to help with the responsibilities of raising children. We need to come together at all times to help each other to be the most accomplished parents we can be, and to raise children who are caring, educated, know right from wrong, and who will, themselves, make a contribution to community and to society.
One way that we, as a community, already do this is by investing in our Religion School to provide our children with a good Jewish education. The Synagogue has prioritised our children’s education and has invested to make sure that they are taught Torah by wonderful teachers in a great environment.
But Torah education is just one of the responsibilities the Talmud lays out for parents and their children. We also need to provide them with a connection to their religious heritage – we need to bring them into the synagogue and encourage them to be a part of our prayer community. We have reintroduced the monthly Birthday Kiddush to celebrate the children, but we actually need to welcome them every week. Occasionally this might mean accepting a little bit of noise from our youngest children, but this seems like a small price to pay for fulfilling our religious responsibility towards them.
In this week’s Torah portion we are told to be fruitful and multiply. The important work of Professor Robert Edwards, which was honoured this week, helped to make this a possibility for millions of people. And in the same week the financial support for raising children was reduced. We need to fill that financial gap with our hard work, our involvement and our action. We all share the responsibility of raising our children – we don’t have villages to raise a child, but we have synagogues, and in this community we don’t need to just bless our children with our words, we can also bless them with our actions. And the impact of our actions will be heard further and louder than our words ever could be.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Two Minutes of Torah: Noach (Genesis 9:1-17) - The Many Colours of the Rainbow
I do not remember many specific lessons from my primary school experience, but the mnemonic devices we were taught have stuck with me. For the four directions of the compass I always recall ‘Never Eat Soggy Wheetabix’ and ‘Naughty Elephants Squirt Water’. And for the colours of the rainbow I have never forgotten: ‘Richard Of York Gained Battles In Vain’, or my teacher Mrs Rose’s own creation: ‘Run Over Your Grandma Because It’s Violent’ (it’s a little peculiar, but it clearly worked as a memory tool).
The mnemonic device is useful for learning the order of the colours of the rainbow, but knowing the colours and actually seeing a rainbow is something completely different. Over the weekend while listening to the Ryder Cup coverage on the Radio, the golf reporting was temporarily interrupted as the presenter tried to describe the beautiful rainbow he was witnessing at Celtic Manor. He was so moved by this vision of nature that he actually suggested a poet would be best equipped to describe it.
The first recorded rainbow is the one shown to Noach by God as a symbol of their covenant: ‘I set my rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between me and the earth’ (Genesis 9:13). There was something redemptive about that first rainbow and all it represented. The flood, which Noach experienced, was a cataclysmic event, which brought the earth to the brink of destruction. Noach, his family, and the animals from the ark, were the surviving remnant of a destroyed planet.
Having saved Noach and his family, God enters into a new covenant with humanity. This includes the prohibition against eating live flesh (Genesis 9:4), the law against shedding another person’s blood (Genesis 9:6) and the instruction to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 9:7). The rainbow is a reminder of the covenant which god entered into with Noach, not just for us, but also for God, who will see the rainbow: ‘And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh’ (Genesis 9:15).
We often focus on the covenant between God and Abraham (mentioned from Genesis 15:18), as this is our particular birthright as Jews. We often forget that there was first a covenant with all of humanity, and no particular group or religion. In Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5 we are told that the entire world was created from Adam so that no person would say my father was greater than yours. Just in case there was any doubt, the story of Noach provides the same function, so that we are all descended from Adam and Eve, through the line of Noach.
The Torah makes a wonderful statement about God’s relationship with all of humanity by asserting a universal covenant before focussing on a specific one. God is in a relationship with all human beings, not one or other specific religious or ethnic group. And the rainbow is the perfect symbol to represent that covenant.
The rainbow brings together seven different colours, creating a whole, which is significantly more spectacular and beautiful than the sum of its parts. It is representative of the different elements which make up the human race. We come in all shapes, sizes, colours, creeds, religions and races. Each group possesses an individual beauty, but it is together that humanity is truly spectacular and awe inspiring.
I know that whenever I see a rainbow I am frozen in my tracks, stopping to admire the beauty of God’s creation. We don’t get to see them everyday, and the weather conditions have to be just right to create one; but there are few things in nature as beautiful as the rainbow, and there are few things in the world as beautiful as humanity coming together in love and unity.
The mnemonic device is useful for learning the order of the colours of the rainbow, but knowing the colours and actually seeing a rainbow is something completely different. Over the weekend while listening to the Ryder Cup coverage on the Radio, the golf reporting was temporarily interrupted as the presenter tried to describe the beautiful rainbow he was witnessing at Celtic Manor. He was so moved by this vision of nature that he actually suggested a poet would be best equipped to describe it.
The first recorded rainbow is the one shown to Noach by God as a symbol of their covenant: ‘I set my rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between me and the earth’ (Genesis 9:13). There was something redemptive about that first rainbow and all it represented. The flood, which Noach experienced, was a cataclysmic event, which brought the earth to the brink of destruction. Noach, his family, and the animals from the ark, were the surviving remnant of a destroyed planet.
Having saved Noach and his family, God enters into a new covenant with humanity. This includes the prohibition against eating live flesh (Genesis 9:4), the law against shedding another person’s blood (Genesis 9:6) and the instruction to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 9:7). The rainbow is a reminder of the covenant which god entered into with Noach, not just for us, but also for God, who will see the rainbow: ‘And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh’ (Genesis 9:15).
We often focus on the covenant between God and Abraham (mentioned from Genesis 15:18), as this is our particular birthright as Jews. We often forget that there was first a covenant with all of humanity, and no particular group or religion. In Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5 we are told that the entire world was created from Adam so that no person would say my father was greater than yours. Just in case there was any doubt, the story of Noach provides the same function, so that we are all descended from Adam and Eve, through the line of Noach.
The Torah makes a wonderful statement about God’s relationship with all of humanity by asserting a universal covenant before focussing on a specific one. God is in a relationship with all human beings, not one or other specific religious or ethnic group. And the rainbow is the perfect symbol to represent that covenant.
The rainbow brings together seven different colours, creating a whole, which is significantly more spectacular and beautiful than the sum of its parts. It is representative of the different elements which make up the human race. We come in all shapes, sizes, colours, creeds, religions and races. Each group possesses an individual beauty, but it is together that humanity is truly spectacular and awe inspiring.
I know that whenever I see a rainbow I am frozen in my tracks, stopping to admire the beauty of God’s creation. We don’t get to see them everyday, and the weather conditions have to be just right to create one; but there are few things in nature as beautiful as the rainbow, and there are few things in the world as beautiful as humanity coming together in love and unity.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Two Minutes of Torah: Bereishit (Genesis 3:1-21) - Don't Get Your Fingers Burnt
In one episode of the television comedy ‘Samantha Who’, the title character says: ‘You know that thing about touching the plate after the waiter tells you its hot, the most exciting time is that moment right before you touch it; after that, you're just an idiot sitting in a restaurant with a burnt finger.’ I am that idiot! If the waiter or waitress tells me the plate is hot, then I feel like I have to touch it, just to check. When the plate is sizzling I can usually resist, but at all other times, without thinking, I extend my finger just to confirm exactly how hot the plate really is.
God is a little bit like the waiter when God places Adam in the Garden of Eden and offers him an extensive menu of food, which he is able to enjoy ‘Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat’ (Genesis 2:16). There is one exception; in the midst of the garden was the forbidden tree: ‘of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall not eat of it; for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die’ (Genesis 2:17). It is not clear if death is a direct, inescapable consequence of eating from the tree, or a punishment which will be delivered by God. However, one can imagine that this ‘special’ tree in the midst of the garden was a subject of fascination and temptation.
It is into this context that the serpent began to cause trouble. We should remember that God spoke to Adam, and not to Eve, so rather deviously it is Eve that the serpent approaches to tempt with the tree in the midst of the garden. Eve does at least know of a commandment relating to the tree: ‘It is only about fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that God said: “You shall not eat of it or touch it, lest you die”’ (Genesis 3:3). In Eve’s mind the fruit of the tree cannot be eaten, but it also must not be touched – an addition to God’s original prohibition. The fascination with the tree had grown from what was originally intended.
The serpent seizes the opening and challenges Eve: ‘You are not going to die, but God knows that as soon as you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like divine beings who know good and bad’ (Genesis 3:4). We all know the rest of the story as Eve ate from the tree, and then offered it to Adam. Together they both realised that they were naked – as the serpent had said the tree opened their eyes, giving them newfound insights and awareness.
However, the relationship between God and Adam and Eve was irreparably changed. There is a sense of outrage in the words which God spoke; God appears shocked that the humans would disregard the commandment he had given them. And among the consequences Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but not before ‘God made garments of skins for Adam and his wife’ (Genesis 3:20). The relationship was changed, but it was not broken.
In many ways this foundational story in our text is a story of maturation and growth. Adam and Eve begin as children in the Garden of Eden with everything provided for them; this is not the life which was intended for them. By eating the fruit they make a choice; they choose to disregard an instruction from God and act independently. The action is their own and the consequences are their responsibility, but so too is the independence. In eating the fruit Adam and Eve assert their independence in the same way that a teenager does in relationship to his or her parents.
For me the ‘hot’ plate set before me is an irresistible temptation. I wonder if when God was placing the tree in the midst of the garden God knew that it would be an almost irresistible temptation. Perhaps God knew that at some point Adam and Eve would challenge God’s authority and eat from that tree. Maybe that was all God’s plan, for at that moment God would know that Adam and Eve were ready to be freed from Eden, and given the independence to look after themselves, and be sent out into the big wide world. God was still saddened that his creations had ‘grown up’ and were ready for a new, different relationship; but God also knew that the time had come for them to stand on their own two feet and leave the nest.
God is a little bit like the waiter when God places Adam in the Garden of Eden and offers him an extensive menu of food, which he is able to enjoy ‘Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat’ (Genesis 2:16). There is one exception; in the midst of the garden was the forbidden tree: ‘of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall not eat of it; for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die’ (Genesis 2:17). It is not clear if death is a direct, inescapable consequence of eating from the tree, or a punishment which will be delivered by God. However, one can imagine that this ‘special’ tree in the midst of the garden was a subject of fascination and temptation.
It is into this context that the serpent began to cause trouble. We should remember that God spoke to Adam, and not to Eve, so rather deviously it is Eve that the serpent approaches to tempt with the tree in the midst of the garden. Eve does at least know of a commandment relating to the tree: ‘It is only about fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that God said: “You shall not eat of it or touch it, lest you die”’ (Genesis 3:3). In Eve’s mind the fruit of the tree cannot be eaten, but it also must not be touched – an addition to God’s original prohibition. The fascination with the tree had grown from what was originally intended.
The serpent seizes the opening and challenges Eve: ‘You are not going to die, but God knows that as soon as you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like divine beings who know good and bad’ (Genesis 3:4). We all know the rest of the story as Eve ate from the tree, and then offered it to Adam. Together they both realised that they were naked – as the serpent had said the tree opened their eyes, giving them newfound insights and awareness.
However, the relationship between God and Adam and Eve was irreparably changed. There is a sense of outrage in the words which God spoke; God appears shocked that the humans would disregard the commandment he had given them. And among the consequences Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but not before ‘God made garments of skins for Adam and his wife’ (Genesis 3:20). The relationship was changed, but it was not broken.
In many ways this foundational story in our text is a story of maturation and growth. Adam and Eve begin as children in the Garden of Eden with everything provided for them; this is not the life which was intended for them. By eating the fruit they make a choice; they choose to disregard an instruction from God and act independently. The action is their own and the consequences are their responsibility, but so too is the independence. In eating the fruit Adam and Eve assert their independence in the same way that a teenager does in relationship to his or her parents.
For me the ‘hot’ plate set before me is an irresistible temptation. I wonder if when God was placing the tree in the midst of the garden God knew that it would be an almost irresistible temptation. Perhaps God knew that at some point Adam and Eve would challenge God’s authority and eat from that tree. Maybe that was all God’s plan, for at that moment God would know that Adam and Eve were ready to be freed from Eden, and given the independence to look after themselves, and be sent out into the big wide world. God was still saddened that his creations had ‘grown up’ and were ready for a new, different relationship; but God also knew that the time had come for them to stand on their own two feet and leave the nest.
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