וְיֵעָשׂוּ כֻלָּם אֲגֻדָּה אֶחָת לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹנְךָ בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם
וְיֵעָשׂוּ כֻלָּם אֲגֻדָּה אֶחָת לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹנְךָ בְּלֵבָב שָׁלֵם
As we move from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, this week we read Parashat Ha’azinu, Moses’ farewell song. There are many fruitful portions of the parashah upon which to focus, but my attention immediately gravitates to the phrase וַיִּשְׁמַן יְשֻׁרוּן וַיִּבְעָט (“and Yeshurun grew fat and kicked”; Deut. 32:15).
“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” -Inaugural Address of Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt (March 4, 1933)
A couple weeks ago, I had the privilege of talking with someone interested in converting to Judaism. Since the pandemic, I have noticed an uptick in people interested in converting with me. In the conversation, I asked them more about themselves, their story, and their interest in casting their lot with the Jewish people. And although I’ve heard several answers now to this question of “Why do you want to convert?”, I had never heard this one before.
I recently visited the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and managed to have timed my visit to be able to view the exhibit “Hear Me Now: The Black Potters of Old Edgefield, South Carolina”. It was beautiful, and it was painful. Beautiful, because the pottery was subtly exquisite. Painful, because each piece was made by an enslaved human being, subjected to horrors we cannot begin to imagine. In the South in the mid-1800s, the phrase “buy local” had a whole different connotation. “Buy local” meant support the slave industry with your economic decisions. Don’t buy from the North – goods made by free people. The paradoxical mix of beauty and pain found in the Old Edgefield pottery is not so uncommon. We find it frequently in the Torah. The beauty is in the fact that the words are part of our ancient and sacred tradition. The pain is in what those words say.
When I officiate at a wedding, I typically encourage the parents to bestow blessings upon their children. In addition to the Priestly Blessing, often the parents read a blessing in English that I provide to them, including the lines: “When you speak with your beloved, may you always know the joy of companionship. When you see each other, may your eyes be filled with wonder at the miracle of your love. When you disagree, may you always think of compromise.” I began to be curious about the etymology of the word “compromise,” noting that it has the word “promise” in it, and I wondered if it originally meant something like “promise together.” I looked it up and discovered that the original meaning of the word “compromise” is a promise that is made by two disputants, at the same time, that they will abide by the decision of someone else who is acting as the arbiter of their dispute.
It’s been said that one person’s religion is another person’s superstition. So when in this week’s parasha, Re’eh, the Israelites are told to build an altar on one of the Canaanite mountains upon their entrance into the Promised Land, but not before they are told to “utterly destroy” [Deut. 12.2] the altars that are already there, well—why am I not surprised? Both the Israelites and the Canaanites have a long relationship with mountains. And often they’re the same mountains! But the Canaanites were there first. Sacred ancient Israelite shrines were often conveniently located on the same hilltops as former (and sometimes destroyed) ancient Canaanite shrines. So, which religion is legit and which is simply superstition?
This week’s Shabbat bears a special name, "Shabbat Nahamu” – the Shabbat of Comfort. Shabbat Nahamu comes on the heels of the saddest day on the Jewish calendar -- Tisha b’Av. This is the day on which both Temples were destroyed. Moreover, other catastrophes fell on this date – the day Bar Kokhba (the leader of the revolt against the Romans) was killed in 133 C.E., the day in 1290 when the Jews were expelled from England, the day in 1492 when the Jews were forced to convert or flee Spain. And, in 1914, the day on which World War I, and the horrors to follow, began. Tisha b’Av, the Rabbis say, is a day set aside for sorrows. And not only our national sorrows, but our personal ones as well. It makes you wonder why we don’t just curl up in a ball and stay under the covers every Tisha b’Av. But we don’t hide from our sadness; we re-live it. We sit on the ground, fast, recite Kinot (dirges) and read Eikha (Lamentations). We mourn. We embrace our sorrow. For it, too, is part of life.
There’s a lot in our tradition that is difficult to accept.
One of the concepts that seems especially not to square with our lived experience is the theology of Divine reward and punishment. It’s hard to reconcile for me, for many in the Jewish community, and for many of the students I work with. The haftarah that we’ll read on this Shabbat Hazon sums it up well:
אִם־ תֹּאב֖וּ וּשְׁמַעְתֶּ֑ם ט֥וּב הָאָ֖רֶץ תֹּאכֵֽלוּ׃
וְאִם ־תְּמָאֲנ֖וּ וּמְרִיתֶ֑ם חֶ֣רֶב תְּאֻכְּל֔וּ כִּ֛י פִּ֥י יְ-הֹוָ֖ה דִּבֵּֽר
If you are willing and obey, you will eat the best of the land.
But if you refuse and disobey, you will be devoured by the sword, for the mouth of G-d spoke. (Isaiah 1:19-20)
This is just not true. It’s hard to imagine, frankly, that it was ever true. But in the decades after the Holocaust, it seems especially impossible to believe. Worse, it’s offensive. Because the argument for it to be true would be that Read More >
Click HERE for an audio recording of this D’var Torah
A D’var Torah for Parashat Ha’azinu
By Rabbi Matthew Goldstone
Our parasha this week begins with calling heaven and earth as witnesses (see Deut. 31:28) as Moses sings his final song to the people. The natural imagery continues as Moses compares his words to rain and dew, and refers to God as the Rock (צור). This past week many of us have had rains on our mind as Hurricane Ian ravaged portions of Florida. Within the biblical theology of our parasha, such natural disasters are understood as an expression of divine displeasure at our sinful actions (e.g., Deut. 32:18-24). For many modern inheritors of the Hebrew Bible, however, such a theology no longer resonates and can even be offensive – particularly when employed as a weapon by religious extremists. So what meaning can we draw from our parasha’s conception Read More >
Click HERE for an audio recording of this D’var Torah
A D’var Torah for Parashat Vayeilekh
By Rabbi Matthew Goldstone
This past week thousands of Jews gathered in person and online to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. We now find ourselves in the midst of עשרת ימי תשובה, the 10 days of repentance leading up to Yom Kippur. Yet, even during this week between the Yamim Noraim we continue with our regular Torah reading cycle. This week of Shabbat Shuvah we read the short parashah of Vayeilekh in which Moses announces to the Israelites that he has reached 120 years of age and will no longer lead the Israelites forward.
At this time in our Jewish calendar of sacred gatherings, I would like to explore three instances in our parashah in which all of the Israelites gather together. At the very outset of the portion, Moses speaks to “all of Israel” and encourages them to be strong and resolute (חזקו ואמצו; Read More >
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