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The age old question has always been; what is our purpose here on earth? Could the answer be found in the very first Torah portion?
At the beginning of Bereishit’s second story of creation, there is a sense in which the world is waiting for humans to be created. The world lies barren 'because the Eternal God had not sent rain upon the earth and there was no human to till the soil' (Genesis 2:5). The idea that there is no point to a complete creation without humans to nurture the land gives human beings a great deal of purpose, accompanied by a great deal of responsibility.
Humanity is effectively the key which unlocks creation. This idea stands in stark contrast to the first creation story, which has a fully functioning world before man and woman are created. We are the final act of creation, and the world appears to be fully functional with or without us.
Yet in the second story of creation, not only are we humans important for the functioning of the earth, but we are also literally a part of it: 'the Eternal God formed man from the dust of the earth' (Genesis 2:7). The very name for the first man, Adam, comes from the Hebrew word adamah, which means earth. We come from the earth, and our presence on the earth enables it to flourish.
Though God ‘planted a garden’ (Genesis 2:8), we were the ones created to till its soil. There is a sacred partnership that exists between us and God from the very beginning of creation. It is not just our bodies that were made in the image of God, but the purpose of those bodies as well – we were created to be God’s partners here on earth, to complete the divine act of creation.
According to the Talmud, this partnership is renewed each and every week when we recite the Vayechulu (Genesis 2:1-3). Words in prayer are obviously important, but we must ask ourselves: what are we doing to fulfil our part of the partnership?
Each one of us should ask whether our presence on earth serves to help with the completion of God's creation – Tikkun Olam (repairing the world); or whether our presence is the reason the world needs to be repaired?
In the Talmud, this very subject is debated by Hillel and Shammai, who conclude that it would have been better if we were not created. One need only pick up a newspaper to read about the ways in which we are harming God’s creation rather than tending to it, damaging our environment rather than caring for it, and destroying nature rather than nurturing it.
As we once again return to the story of creation in Bereishit, we have an opportunity to reconnect with our original purpose here on earth. In a week, the Hebrew month of Cheshvan begins, which has been reclaimed as Jewish Social Action Month. With an entire month devoted to social action and Tikkun Olam, there is no better time than now to act upon our obligation, and reclaim the honour of truly being God’s partner in the ongoing work of creation. So we can no longer ask; what our purpose is, but rather if we are fulfilling it?
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Blogging Elul - Judaism, a religion of preparation
The month of Elul has now begun, and with it the countdown towards Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. One of the striking features of Judaism is the way in which preparation forms an important part of our calendar and general religious observance.
In most religions the call to prayer marks the beginning of the formal service. The muezzin ascends the minaret and sings the words of the adhan calling Muslims to the Mosque for the service to begin; and the bells ring out to mark the beginning of Church services. However, in Judaism the Barechu – which is our call to prayer, appears in the midst of the service. In our morning service, the prior sections of birkat hashachar – the morning blessings and pesukei dezimra – the passages of song, prepare us for the formal call to prayer, when we rise to enter into God’s presence. And according to the Mishnah (Berachot 5:1) The pious men (hasidim harishonim) of old used to wait an hour before praying in order that they might concentrate their thoughts upon their Father in Heaven.
The 49 days of the Omer, which we begin counting on the second night of Pesach, are a way of preparing ourselves for the festival of Shavuot and the giving of Torah. Our ancestors in the wilderness did not immediately reach Mount Sinai for God’s revelation, and our calendar recreates this with the Omer, as we count towards the festival of Shavuot. We move from the physical freedom, which we acquired at Pesach, to the spiritual freedom, which we acquire with Torah on Shavuot. Each night we recite the blessing for the Omer and we count, so as to consciously mark the move and transition from Pesach to Shavuot.
And before we come to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we have the month of Elul. All too often when we have jobs which need to be done we wait until the last minute to do them. In the lead up to Yom Kippur our jobs are teshuva – repentance, tefilla – prayer and tzedakkah – charity (deeds of righteousness), all of which avert the evil decree. Rather than waiting until Yom Kippur we have the ten days from Rosh Hashanah, and the thirty days of Elul to begin work on these tasks. Each day of Elul we sound the shofar, which calls us to attention and reminds us that Yom Teruah - the day of the Shofar (another name for Rosh Hashanah) is approaching and that we should begin preparing for the High Holy Days today.
With all of this preparation it is interesting to note that Pesach, is the only Torah festival with no obvious lead up (even for Sukkot we begin our work immediately at the end of Yom Kippur, putting the first nail into our Sukkah). Perhaps this element of the calendar is a reminder that our ancestors were forced to leave Egypt in such a rush that there was not even time for the bread to rise. And so our calendar includes no obvious time for preparation.
Through Elul our calendar is urging us to do what we can today to prepare for our High Holy Day festivals, and to not wait until tomorrow. Before we know it Rosh Hashanah will be upon us, and rather than the marathon of Elul, we will have the sprint of the Ten Days of Repentance (and eventually just the 25 hours of Yom Kippur). As Hillel used to say: “If not now, when?”
In most religions the call to prayer marks the beginning of the formal service. The muezzin ascends the minaret and sings the words of the adhan calling Muslims to the Mosque for the service to begin; and the bells ring out to mark the beginning of Church services. However, in Judaism the Barechu – which is our call to prayer, appears in the midst of the service. In our morning service, the prior sections of birkat hashachar – the morning blessings and pesukei dezimra – the passages of song, prepare us for the formal call to prayer, when we rise to enter into God’s presence. And according to the Mishnah (Berachot 5:1) The pious men (hasidim harishonim) of old used to wait an hour before praying in order that they might concentrate their thoughts upon their Father in Heaven.
The 49 days of the Omer, which we begin counting on the second night of Pesach, are a way of preparing ourselves for the festival of Shavuot and the giving of Torah. Our ancestors in the wilderness did not immediately reach Mount Sinai for God’s revelation, and our calendar recreates this with the Omer, as we count towards the festival of Shavuot. We move from the physical freedom, which we acquired at Pesach, to the spiritual freedom, which we acquire with Torah on Shavuot. Each night we recite the blessing for the Omer and we count, so as to consciously mark the move and transition from Pesach to Shavuot.
And before we come to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we have the month of Elul. All too often when we have jobs which need to be done we wait until the last minute to do them. In the lead up to Yom Kippur our jobs are teshuva – repentance, tefilla – prayer and tzedakkah – charity (deeds of righteousness), all of which avert the evil decree. Rather than waiting until Yom Kippur we have the ten days from Rosh Hashanah, and the thirty days of Elul to begin work on these tasks. Each day of Elul we sound the shofar, which calls us to attention and reminds us that Yom Teruah - the day of the Shofar (another name for Rosh Hashanah) is approaching and that we should begin preparing for the High Holy Days today.
With all of this preparation it is interesting to note that Pesach, is the only Torah festival with no obvious lead up (even for Sukkot we begin our work immediately at the end of Yom Kippur, putting the first nail into our Sukkah). Perhaps this element of the calendar is a reminder that our ancestors were forced to leave Egypt in such a rush that there was not even time for the bread to rise. And so our calendar includes no obvious time for preparation.
Through Elul our calendar is urging us to do what we can today to prepare for our High Holy Day festivals, and to not wait until tomorrow. Before we know it Rosh Hashanah will be upon us, and rather than the marathon of Elul, we will have the sprint of the Ten Days of Repentance (and eventually just the 25 hours of Yom Kippur). As Hillel used to say: “If not now, when?”
Monday, August 15, 2011
Two Minutes of Torah: Vaetchanan (Deuteronomy 5:1-24) - It's our Covenant
While I have no specific memory of the event, I love the idea that, together with all Jews of every generation, I stood at Mount Sinai when God gave us the Ten Commandments. We were also all witness to God’s revelation; and by reclaiming the Sinai experience as our own we include ourselves in the community who actually accepted God’s laws and commandments.
One may consider that this midrashic idea began in this week’s Torah portion. Standing on the banks of the Jordan, about to enter the Holy Land, Devarim is essentially Moses’ farewell address to the people, and a history lesson recounting the previous forty years. And this week he recalls the Sinai experience, although here he speaks of a place called Horeb (a subject for another Dvar Torah).
Having gathered the Israelites together Moses declares: ‘Adonai made a covenant with us at Horeb. It was not with our parents that Adonai made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today’ (Deuteronomy 5:2-3). At first glance this may seem reasonable enough, and it provides an appropriate preamble for the recollection of the Ten Commandments. The only problem is that there is a potential factual inaccuracy.
The Israelites stood at Sinai (Horeb) and God did speak to us there; however (aside from the later midrash) it was not the same community which now stood on the banks of the Jordan. After the spies gave their false account of the Promised Land, God decreed that ‘they shall not see the land which I swore to their ancestors’ (Numbers 14:23) – Moses even recalled this event in last week’s Torah portion (Deuteronomy 1:35). The community about to enter Israel was the next generation; at most they were children when God revealed Godself at Sinai. They were certainly not the generation who publicly declared: ‘Naaseh venishmah – we will do and we will listen’ (Exodus 24:7).
Despite this, Moses explicitly makes it clear that the covenant was not made with that previous generation, but that it was a covenant ‘with us, the living’. On the one hand this was a statement to the people about to enter the Land of Israel; they too stood at Sinai and made the covenant with God. But it was also an eternal statement which could be read by each generation anew. And today, as we read Vaetchanan, we hear Moses’ words that the covenant was made ‘with us, the living’. We therefore also stood at Sinai, as the midrash suggests, witnessing God’s revelation firsthand. Despite no actual memory of the event, we remember that we too were signatories to the covenant with God.
This week’s Torah portion appears to begin midway through a story as Moses continues ‘I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying “…Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan…’ (Deuteronomy 3:23-25). The portion division reminds us, as we read Vaetchanan, that Moses will not be joining us in the Promised Land. Despite leading us from slavery to freedom, Moses will not lead us indefinitely. We must be prepared to take ownership of our destiny and our covenant with God. We possess this ability because, even if we don’t remember it, we stood at Sinai, and the covenant was not made with our ancestors, but it was made with us. Knowing this we can journey together into the Promised Land.
One may consider that this midrashic idea began in this week’s Torah portion. Standing on the banks of the Jordan, about to enter the Holy Land, Devarim is essentially Moses’ farewell address to the people, and a history lesson recounting the previous forty years. And this week he recalls the Sinai experience, although here he speaks of a place called Horeb (a subject for another Dvar Torah).
Having gathered the Israelites together Moses declares: ‘Adonai made a covenant with us at Horeb. It was not with our parents that Adonai made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today’ (Deuteronomy 5:2-3). At first glance this may seem reasonable enough, and it provides an appropriate preamble for the recollection of the Ten Commandments. The only problem is that there is a potential factual inaccuracy.
The Israelites stood at Sinai (Horeb) and God did speak to us there; however (aside from the later midrash) it was not the same community which now stood on the banks of the Jordan. After the spies gave their false account of the Promised Land, God decreed that ‘they shall not see the land which I swore to their ancestors’ (Numbers 14:23) – Moses even recalled this event in last week’s Torah portion (Deuteronomy 1:35). The community about to enter Israel was the next generation; at most they were children when God revealed Godself at Sinai. They were certainly not the generation who publicly declared: ‘Naaseh venishmah – we will do and we will listen’ (Exodus 24:7).
Despite this, Moses explicitly makes it clear that the covenant was not made with that previous generation, but that it was a covenant ‘with us, the living’. On the one hand this was a statement to the people about to enter the Land of Israel; they too stood at Sinai and made the covenant with God. But it was also an eternal statement which could be read by each generation anew. And today, as we read Vaetchanan, we hear Moses’ words that the covenant was made ‘with us, the living’. We therefore also stood at Sinai, as the midrash suggests, witnessing God’s revelation firsthand. Despite no actual memory of the event, we remember that we too were signatories to the covenant with God.
This week’s Torah portion appears to begin midway through a story as Moses continues ‘I pleaded with Adonai at that time, saying “…Let me, I pray, cross over and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan…’ (Deuteronomy 3:23-25). The portion division reminds us, as we read Vaetchanan, that Moses will not be joining us in the Promised Land. Despite leading us from slavery to freedom, Moses will not lead us indefinitely. We must be prepared to take ownership of our destiny and our covenant with God. We possess this ability because, even if we don’t remember it, we stood at Sinai, and the covenant was not made with our ancestors, but it was made with us. Knowing this we can journey together into the Promised Land.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Two Minutes of Torah: Korach (Numbers 17:6-26) - The Wilderness in 2011
In the midst of a year it is hard to tell exactly how it will be remembered in the future. And while 2011 has brought many big new stories, it is likely that this year will be remembered for the protests and revolutions which spread across the Middle East. This year has already seen the overthrow of Tunisian President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali and Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, while in Yemen, Syria and Libya, dictators cling to power amidst continued protest and revolution. Across these countries, the people were united in their calls for a democratisation of their political system and the introduction of free and fair elections, alongside a variety of other reforms.
It is therefore interesting to read this week’s Torah portion of Korach against the backdrop of this news story. The man for whom the parasha is named is traditionally considered to be one of the Torah’s real bad guys. The Rabbis taught in the Talmud that from the time when God created the world, God knew that Korach was going to be trouble, and on the eve of that first Shabbat, following the six days God had spent creating the world, as one of the final ten things to be created, God create the mouth of the earth to swallow up Korach (Pesachim 54a). God knew in advance that this man was going to be trouble, and prepared an appropriate punishment for him at the very beginning.
There is something tragic about Korach. When we read about his challenge to Moses, it is hard to see what he did that was so wrong. He challenged Moses and Aaron, saying to them: ‘You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Eternal is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Eternal’s congregation?’ (Num 16:3). In our modern context, we could almost read Korach’s challenge as a call for a democratisation of the Israelite political order, he might well have been one of the people taking to the streets in 2011.
However, we might wonder what Moses and Aaron had done to warrant a challenge from Korach and his followers. While Korach’s call may sound reminiscent of the calls on the Arab streets this year, it is clear that Moses and Aaron cannot be compared to the Middle Eastern dictators. In fact during this episode one could argue that Moses and Aaron demonstrate once again why they were so well suited to lead the Jewish people.
Twice in this Torah portion God calls on Moses and Aaron to remove themselves from the community so ‘that I may annihilate them in an instant’ (Num. 16:21 and 17:10). The first time as the community stood behind Korach at the Tent of Meeting, waiting to see whom God would choose. And the second time after Korach and his followers had been swallowed up by the earth (and destroyed by fire), when the Israelites complained that Moses and Aaron had brought death upon the community.
With all that the Israelites had done to try and test Moses since he assumed the leadership of the community, one might have forgiven him, had he simply stepped to one side and allowed God to destroy the people. We could have understood if these two final incidents were the proverbial straws which broke the camel’s back, and led Moses to finally despair of his charges.
Instead the response of Moses and Aaron is the same on both occasions: ‘And they fell on their faces’ (Num. 16:22 and 17:10). Even when facing a potential mutiny, they did not resort to violence, and instead protected the people from God’s potentially devastating decree. They risked their own lives, opposing God and defending the people.
Moses and Aaron were worthy leaders because they defended their people, even when the people were in the process of challenging their authority to lead. And as God unleashed a plague on this rebellious group, ‘Moses said to Aaron, Take a censer, and put fire in it from the altar, and put on incense, and go quickly to the congregation, and make an atonement for them; for anger has come out from the Lord; the plague has begun’ (Num. 17:11). It is hard to imagine the dictators of 2011 protecting their people in the midst of their protest, or not seeking retribution in its aftermath.
Moses and Aaron did not deserve the challenge which Korach brought. They defended the people, setting aside their own personal interests, to make sure that the people were protected and saved when threatened by God. They may not have been democratically elected by a majority of the Israelite population, but they provided a leadership which prioritised the people’s needs above their own. And in the way they behaved, they provided a model of leadership which people across the world can appreciate.
It is therefore interesting to read this week’s Torah portion of Korach against the backdrop of this news story. The man for whom the parasha is named is traditionally considered to be one of the Torah’s real bad guys. The Rabbis taught in the Talmud that from the time when God created the world, God knew that Korach was going to be trouble, and on the eve of that first Shabbat, following the six days God had spent creating the world, as one of the final ten things to be created, God create the mouth of the earth to swallow up Korach (Pesachim 54a). God knew in advance that this man was going to be trouble, and prepared an appropriate punishment for him at the very beginning.
There is something tragic about Korach. When we read about his challenge to Moses, it is hard to see what he did that was so wrong. He challenged Moses and Aaron, saying to them: ‘You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Eternal is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Eternal’s congregation?’ (Num 16:3). In our modern context, we could almost read Korach’s challenge as a call for a democratisation of the Israelite political order, he might well have been one of the people taking to the streets in 2011.
However, we might wonder what Moses and Aaron had done to warrant a challenge from Korach and his followers. While Korach’s call may sound reminiscent of the calls on the Arab streets this year, it is clear that Moses and Aaron cannot be compared to the Middle Eastern dictators. In fact during this episode one could argue that Moses and Aaron demonstrate once again why they were so well suited to lead the Jewish people.
Twice in this Torah portion God calls on Moses and Aaron to remove themselves from the community so ‘that I may annihilate them in an instant’ (Num. 16:21 and 17:10). The first time as the community stood behind Korach at the Tent of Meeting, waiting to see whom God would choose. And the second time after Korach and his followers had been swallowed up by the earth (and destroyed by fire), when the Israelites complained that Moses and Aaron had brought death upon the community.
With all that the Israelites had done to try and test Moses since he assumed the leadership of the community, one might have forgiven him, had he simply stepped to one side and allowed God to destroy the people. We could have understood if these two final incidents were the proverbial straws which broke the camel’s back, and led Moses to finally despair of his charges.
Instead the response of Moses and Aaron is the same on both occasions: ‘And they fell on their faces’ (Num. 16:22 and 17:10). Even when facing a potential mutiny, they did not resort to violence, and instead protected the people from God’s potentially devastating decree. They risked their own lives, opposing God and defending the people.
Moses and Aaron were worthy leaders because they defended their people, even when the people were in the process of challenging their authority to lead. And as God unleashed a plague on this rebellious group, ‘Moses said to Aaron, Take a censer, and put fire in it from the altar, and put on incense, and go quickly to the congregation, and make an atonement for them; for anger has come out from the Lord; the plague has begun’ (Num. 17:11). It is hard to imagine the dictators of 2011 protecting their people in the midst of their protest, or not seeking retribution in its aftermath.
Moses and Aaron did not deserve the challenge which Korach brought. They defended the people, setting aside their own personal interests, to make sure that the people were protected and saved when threatened by God. They may not have been democratically elected by a majority of the Israelite population, but they provided a leadership which prioritised the people’s needs above their own. And in the way they behaved, they provided a model of leadership which people across the world can appreciate.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Two Minutes of Torah: Shelach Lecha (Numbers 14:1-19) - Fear of the Unknown and Faith
From 1993 until 2007 a significant part of every summer revolved around RSY-Netzer and the programme of events they offered (Shemesh, Israel Tour and Kayitz-Netzer). I was a chanich (participant), a madrich (leader), a rosh (head of camp), and then I spent several more years filling any role which was needed. It therefore might come as something of a surprise that I threw something of a fit the night before my first RSY-Netzer experience. I had said previously that I wanted to go on summer camp, but as it became real I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of spending two weeks away from home with a group of strangers.
It wasn’t the summer camp specifically; it was more about a fear of doing something new. I’m one of those people who doesn’t like change, isn’t keen on surprises, and would quite happily stay at home (or at least within a 5 mile radius) most of the time. In my family my sister is the adventurous one, travelling all over the world and searching out new experiences; while I am much happier going to places I already know.
I can therefore sympathise with the Israelites in this week’s Torah portion, who were petrified about the prospect of advancing on the Land of Israel. After the spies gave their account of the land: ‘the whole community broke into loud cries, and the people wept that night’ (Numbers 14:1). They were so frightened by the prospect of the inhabitants of the land that ‘they said to one another, ‘Let us head back for Egypt’ (Numbers 14:4).
The ten spies gave an account of the land which terrified the people, warning them of the ‘giants’ living there, and the futility of any attempt to conquer the land. However, with or without the spies report, it is likely that the people would still have been fearful of this unknown land and the mysterious inhabitants within it. They were so frightened that they preferred the certainty of slavery in Egypt, rather than the mystery of the land promised by God.
It was only Joshua and Caleb, who stood up before the people and offered an alternative report: ‘The land we traversed and scouted is an exceedingly good land. If pleased with us, Adonai will bring us into that land’ (Numbers 14:7-8). They were not concerned about the inhabitants of the land, they had faith that God would deliver them into the land, which had been promised to them.
When people step into the unknown it is important to remember that God is with us wherever we travel. With a little faith in God, Caleb and Joshua were confident that the people would be able to conquer the unknown land, and at the same time conquer their fear of the unknown.
This community was unable to overcome their fear and so they were never able to enter the Promised Land, dying in the wilderness. They serve as a cautionary tale for all of us. With a little bit of faith in God the unknown can become a little less scary, and we can reach our own Promised Land.
It wasn’t the summer camp specifically; it was more about a fear of doing something new. I’m one of those people who doesn’t like change, isn’t keen on surprises, and would quite happily stay at home (or at least within a 5 mile radius) most of the time. In my family my sister is the adventurous one, travelling all over the world and searching out new experiences; while I am much happier going to places I already know.
I can therefore sympathise with the Israelites in this week’s Torah portion, who were petrified about the prospect of advancing on the Land of Israel. After the spies gave their account of the land: ‘the whole community broke into loud cries, and the people wept that night’ (Numbers 14:1). They were so frightened by the prospect of the inhabitants of the land that ‘they said to one another, ‘Let us head back for Egypt’ (Numbers 14:4).
The ten spies gave an account of the land which terrified the people, warning them of the ‘giants’ living there, and the futility of any attempt to conquer the land. However, with or without the spies report, it is likely that the people would still have been fearful of this unknown land and the mysterious inhabitants within it. They were so frightened that they preferred the certainty of slavery in Egypt, rather than the mystery of the land promised by God.
It was only Joshua and Caleb, who stood up before the people and offered an alternative report: ‘The land we traversed and scouted is an exceedingly good land. If pleased with us, Adonai will bring us into that land’ (Numbers 14:7-8). They were not concerned about the inhabitants of the land, they had faith that God would deliver them into the land, which had been promised to them.
When people step into the unknown it is important to remember that God is with us wherever we travel. With a little faith in God, Caleb and Joshua were confident that the people would be able to conquer the unknown land, and at the same time conquer their fear of the unknown.
This community was unable to overcome their fear and so they were never able to enter the Promised Land, dying in the wilderness. They serve as a cautionary tale for all of us. With a little bit of faith in God the unknown can become a little less scary, and we can reach our own Promised Land.
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