Parshat Veyeishev: Nature's Lights

Shabbat Shalom dear friends. I feels wonderful to be back after my recent Covid infection and I would like to take this opportunity to thank you most sincerely on behalf of Stephnie, Benjamin and myself for your thoughtful messages and support during this challenging time for our family. I can't express how touched we were.

This has not been an easy week for the rest of the world either.

On Sunday, a Hamas terrorist in Jerusalem dressed up as a Charedi man, shot dead a young man, Eli Kay, zl who also happened to be the grandson of Rabbi Shlomo and Lynndy Levin of South Hampstead Shul and the nephew of Rabbis Eli and Baruch Levin, the latter being the Rabbi of Brondesbury Park.  By all accounts, Eli was a very special individual whose love of the land of Israel knew no bounds.  He had been a lone soldier who recently emigrated from South Africa and was on his way to the Kotel, where he was a guide.  He was carrying his tefillin when he was gunned down in cold blood.

On that very same day, a car deliberately rammed into numerous people who were participating in a Christmas Parade in Waukesha, Wisconsin. Six people have been killed and many children, injured.

Two days later, in Bulgaria, a bus crashed and caught fire killing at least forty-six people of which twelve were children. The passengers had been returning from a trip to Istanbul. Then on Wednesday, twenty-seven people drowned in The Channel. The week before Chanukah this year has indeed been truly horrific.

How does one internalise the bloodshed in the context with the joyous festival of lights that we are about to celebrate? Events take place that are beyond our comprehension and we, the bystanders, are left numb by their occurrence. There are very troubling questions and no answers.

As we light the first candle tomorrow night, the initial date of Chanukah this year won't have missed my attention, for the 25th Kislev happens to be exactly eight months to the day since my dearest mother left us. As I watch the flame engulf the wick, my mind will try to make sense of the events of the last week and of those that took place within our family over the last eight months. For me, trying to come to terms with loss has taken the form of considering the best way to honour my mother's memory.

A few weeks ago, a very special event took place, and I would like to share what happened with you.

As you may be aware, my parents were refugees from the Holocaust. The organisation that I used to work for, and that they and I belong to, is the AJR - the Association of Jewish Refugees.

This year is the AJR’s 80th anniversary and to mark the auspicious occasion, they decided to run a wonderful campaign. This consists of their planting eighty oak trees throughout the British Isles which are dedicated to both living and deceased members. I decided to take up their offer to plant both a tree in my mother's memory and a time capsule which contained, amongst other items, a memoir that she wrote shortly before she passed away. The time capsule was buried next to the tree in Canon's Park which lies between Edgware and Stanmore.

Sadly, the ceremony took place whilst I was in isolation and so my eldest daughter, Hadassah represented the family.  My mother's tree was planted along with two others.

The lovely staff at the AJR kindly contacted me over What's App so that I was able to view the ceremony and was extraordinarily proud to see my daughter, a third-generation refugee, read a short speech that I had written, and then help with the planting.

My mother loved nature and in venerating her name through the planting of a tree that will Gd willing grow and survive for many decades, this was my modest way of bringing some light to our darkness.

And that is really what Chanukah is all about. In these darkest of times, when we are so mired in tragedy after tragedy, the candles that we will light tomorrow and then for the next seven days might help to remind us that despite everything that is taking place, one small flame can light up a very dark room.

It cannot bring back Eli or the people who died in Wisonsin, the victims of the bus crash or the refugees who lost their lives in the Channel any more than it can return my mother to the bosom of her family, but it can remind us that life does go on.  Life has to continue.

In the pitch black darkness of these late November and early December nights, these lights can make a difference to our lives, even if this only serves to remind us of how Chanukah, the festival of lights came about miraculously after so many tragedies in our long and troubled Jewish history.

If planting a new tree or lighting a wick helps in any way to heal the pain of loss, then we have truly honoured the person and people who have left us. May their memories be a blessing to their families and loved ones and may Chanukah enable us to commence the long road into a brighter future.

Wishing you and your loved ones a happy, healthy and peaceful Chanukah.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Toldot: Our Children’s Children

"We are doing this not for ourselves but for our children and our children’s children, and those who will follow in their footsteps."

Queen Elizabeth II - Speech to the COP26 Conference, 1st November 2021. 

This week's Parsha has a very special place in my heart as it is my Bar Mitzvah sedra.  My Hebrew birthday was two days ago on 29th Mar-Cheshvan, which also happens that be the same date in October in the Gregorian calendar on which my parents were married…as I explained last week.

In addition to its special personal status, I have always considered Toldot to be one of the seminal parshiot in the Torah as it describes in vivid detail the 'succession plan' of our Patriarchs following the death of Avraham at the end of last week's reading.

In considering this, the name of the Parsha, ‘Toldot’ as a word is difficult to translate and although I have researched a number of different versions, the one that I was taught and that I have always understood is the term: ‘Generations’.  The Sforno expounds on the word and states that this is describing Yitzchak's biography and he comments in tandem with Rashi who explains that the word refers not only to Avraham and Yitzchak but also to the birth of the twins in this Parsha, namely, as per my understanding, the next generation.

On the face of it, one might be inclined to think that the focus of the Parsha rests on the birth and troubled relationship between the twins Jacob and Esau (Yaakov and Esau).  However, if you look a little deeper, it becomes apparent that in fact, it is their father Isaac (Yitzchak) upon whom Toldot's spotlight squarely falls.

Yitzchak is the quiet and contemplative Patriarch caught between the charismatic chalutz (pioneer) that was his father Avraham and the future progenitor of the twelve tribes, Yaakov whose life is troubled by challenge after challenge, as we shall soon be relating.  Yitzchak, of whom the Torah tells us precious little, is the man of the moment and one gets the feeling that he would rather not have been thus cast.

We know that Yitzchak was a very loved child, but from the outset, he was mocked by his half-brother, Ishmael, and then almost slaughtered by his father.  In this week's Parsha, we read how he had to re-dig his father's wells of water that had been stopped by the Philistines, and to cap it all off, he then picked the wrong son to dote on!  This resulted in the ruse that his younger child had to employ, as his elderly father was afflicted by blindness.  Yitzchak almost forfeited his duty to continue the sterling work undertaken by his father, through giving the blessing to the wrong child!  Thank Gd for the good sense that his wife Rebecca (Rivka) had in averting the disaster that would have resulted had Eisav received the blessing reserved for the firstborn instead of his more erstwhile brother, Yaakov.

The common denominator in all the above is not only the inexorable link between the three Patriarchs through biology but also the responsibility that lies on Yitzchak's shoulders to pass the baton on from his father's generation to his sons'. As we read this week, it is a heavy and ultimately necessary burden to undertake, especially if one’s character traits are analogous to the person I have described above.

From the outset, Yitzchak realized that he had a duty to transfer the Mesorah, the Tradition that had been gifted to him by his father - the man who brought monotheism into the known world.  The person who, although he preceded the giving of the Torah by hundreds of years, promoted a value system that was as alien to his environment as idol-worship is to ours.

Having been raised by no less a couple than Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak was acutely aware of how crucial his role was and, by extension, the powers he possessed to pass that tradition on to the next generation.

A great deal of thought, opinion and rhetoric has been spent over the last few weeks describing our generation's role in preserving this planet for ‘our children, our children's children and those who will follow in their footsteps'.  I am conscious that I have a responsibility to continue the mesorah that was handed down to me by my parents and grandparents.  This ostensibly means that as a parent and teacher, I have a mission to share my deep and abiding love of the Torah with those who will one day become tomorrow's Jewish parents, leaders and perhaps teachers.  It has not escaped my attention that our Prime Minister, Boris Johnson is three years older than me and Israel's PM, Naftali Bennett is four years younger.  We three are examples of those in our generation who chose to dedicate our lives to making a difference for others, although I have no political ambitions whatsoever!

In the week that many of the world's leaders chose to descend on Glasgow to discuss ways in which their respective countries could protect the planet for the next generations, our Torah provides a striking parallel when describing the blessings that Yitzchak gave to Yaakov:

Genesis 27: (26) Then his father Isaac said to him, “Come close, if you please and kiss me, my son”; (27) so he drew close and he kissed him.  And he smelled the fragrance of his clothes and he blessed him, saying, “Ah, the fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of the fields that Hashem has blessed.  (28) “And May Gd give you of the dew of heavens and the fatness of the earth and abundant grain and wine.

בראשית כ״ז: (כו) וַיֹּ֥אמֶר אֵלָ֖יו יִצְחָ֣ק אָבִ֑יו גְּשָׁה־נָּ֥א וּשְׁקָה־לִּ֖י בְּנִֽי׃ (כז) וַיִּגַּשׁ֙ וַיִּשַּׁק־ל֔וֹ וַיָּ֛רַח אֶת־רֵ֥יחַ בְּגָדָ֖יו וַֽיְבָרְכֵ֑הוּ וַיֹּ֗אמֶר רְאֵה֙ רֵ֣יחַ בְּנִ֔י כְּרֵ֣יחַ שָׂדֶ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר בֵּרְכ֖וֹ ה'׃ (כח) וְיִֽתֶּן־לְךָ֙ הָאֱלֹקִ֔ים מִטַּל֙ הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וּמִשְׁמַנֵּ֖י הָאָ֑רֶץ וְרֹ֥ב דָּגָ֖ן וְתִירֹֽשׁ׃

Yitzchak's blessing to Yaakov revolved around the gifts that Gd would provide to his son through the natural order inherent in the operation of a healthy climate.  How can crops grow in a drought or the other extreme, flooding?  How can the earth give of its 'fatness' if the delicate balance upon which the earth can operate is so damaged?

We, this generation, can only transmit our tradition if we respect the environment in which we live.  From the outset, Gd created the heaven and the earth and Adam's only job was to take care of his surroundings.  He forfeited his gift in eating of the fruit and it was not too long before Gd responded to man's evil behaviour by sending The Flood.

The difference between those days and ours is that, if we continue abusing the planet in the way we have, it will not be Gd who will punish our descendants – it will be us, by our negligence.

Just like our patriarch, we must make the right choice when it comes to the actions we take for our children and future descendants.  That he did so through having been tricked by Yaakov should not deter us from 'doing the right thing'.

As Hillel writes in Pirkei Avot 1.14

'If not now then when?'

Our generation owe it to the next to respond to the question imminently.

Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov.

Parshat Chayei Sarah: Love Story

 

If I were to ask you to provide a definition of the Torah, how would you describe it?

You could say that, on a superficial level, it was a history book.  Perhaps you might think of it as a guide to Jewish law and ritual.  A third idea might point to it being a manual of morality (or the lack of it, as described so vividly in last week’s Parsha when focussing on the men of Sodom).  But could you ever consider it to have elements of being a love story?

I’m not necessarily referring to the relationship between our nation and Gd, although there is a deep bond that runs throughout the five books, even if it is sometimes difficult to comprehend why some events took place and whether these could be considered as pertaining to the kind of loving interaction that we can readily understand.

But, looking at this week’s Parsha, I can come to no other conclusion other than its key ingredients can be summarised in one single word:

Love.

Chayei Sarah, literally ‘the life of Sarah’ is a Parsha that is unique in the Torah.

Its structure is bookended by the deaths and burials of our first Matriarch and Patriarch, Sarah and Avraham/Abraham respectively.  Its middle section is a tender and moving description of a dedicated servant’s journey to find a wife for his master’s son.  These elements blend to detail the loving relationships between human beings.

When Rivka/Rebecca is introduced to Yitzchak/Isaac, we are told that she became his wife and that not only did he love her, but she also comforted him after the sudden death of his mother.  This is indeed true love.

Our Parsha takes us on a journey through life, and the love that accompanies it, from youth to old age.  Mills and Boon eat your heart out!

When I think of couples whose love grew throughout their married life, my memories turn to my own parents.

They should have celebrated their 60^th wedding anniversary on 29^th October, had my mother not passed away earlier this year.  Like Yitzchak and Rivka, theirs was an initial relationship that was separated by long distances.  In their case, my father is Yitzchak and my mother was Rosette (although her mother’s middle name was Rivka as is that of my youngest daughter, Shira).

Antwerp to New York may be further in distance than Be’er Lachai Roi to Aram Naharayim but in both cases two individuals came together and created a new life together.

It wasn’t easy.  My mother’s father was in ill-health and my father’s mother had also been very unwell.  The war had taken its toll on both in different ways and their children, who became refugees in childhood, bore the scars of the war that had ended only 15 years before their initial meeting in 1960.

They were married at the Machzike Adath shul in the Ooestenstraat in Antwerp by Rabbi Kreiswirth, the renowned Chief Rabbi of the community, and they promptly set about arranging to travel to New York to settle in Manhatten near my paternal grandparents.  My mother, raised in the close-knit community of Antwerp didn’t feel at home in the gigantic sprawl that is New York City and after two years, convinced my father to leave and settle in Golders Green in order to be near to my uncle and other members of our family.

So, in 1963, my prenatal roots were established in the United Kingdom.

Life was not easy for my parents at first, but their friendship and growing love kept them together through some very trying times.  Their journey from Antwerp, through New York to London, as the archetypal wandering Jews brought its challenges but at the same time, many rewards, not least a wonderful circle of close friends.  And in their golden years, before Covid struck, they lived a highly fulfilling life in their second home on Limes Avenue, otherwise known as the ‘Sobell Centre’.

My mother’s life was bookended by the outset of war when she was three and Covid when she was in her early 80s.  She refused to let it defeat her and would have done anything to be able to reach their special anniversary, but it was not to be.  My father, in his own special way, continued the journey they had started together and now resides in the home adjacent to the centre.  It is as though he is now ending their journey, albeit on his own.

Life leads us in strange and unpredictable ways, and we don’t know how long it will take for us to reach our destination.  The story of Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivka in this week’s Parsha lets us know that, even with the passing of a loved person like Sarah, life has to go on.

Rashi tells us that during Sarah’s lifetime, a light burned in their tent from one Shabbat to the next; the dough she made was blessed and a cloud hung over the tent.  All three disappeared when she died and all three reappeared when Rivka entered the same tent.  Love can ignite even the most extinguished traces of human relationships.

You may similarly notice that in the Hebrew in Verse 2 of Chapter 23, the ‘kaf’ in the word ‘velivkotah’ – and Avraham wept for Sarah is small.  This is the same in the Torah.  Avraham wept privately for his life’s partner, who had been there by his side through so much, but he knew that there had to be a limit to his mourning.  In sending his servant, Eliezer, to seek a wife for their son, he was indicating that life had to carry on, despite everything.  It is a message that has not been lost on me in the last six months.  For I too, am continuing, as is my father.

Although we may not be able to celebrate my parent’s Diamond Anniversary, this doesn’t mean that we can’t remember and value their partnership together.  Through thick and thin theirs, like our Patriarchs and Matriarchs, was indeed a love story and my very being is its witness.

So, after all, The Torah is a book of love and it is in this spirit that although they may no longer be physically together, the anniversary of their marriage is something to cherish and remember.

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Lech Lecha: Who is G-d?

 Faith is not certainty.  Faith is the courage to live with uncertainty.  (Rabbi Sacks ztl)

A few weeks ago, it was a lovely balmy afternoon and we were having a family lunch in our Sukkah.  I was explaining to Olivia, who has just turned four and Alexander, who will be two next month, that the reason we sit in the Sukkah is to remind us of the booths that Gd told us to inhabit when our ancestors were wandering around the desert.

She turned to me and asked: "Daud, who is Gd?"

I looked worriedly at Grandma Stephnie, hoping to elicit a suitable response, but she stared back, also not quite knowing what to say.  We both paused, took a breath and we both tried to give an explanation about what Gd is and what he does, but to be honest, nobody was any wiser at the end of our respective explanations.  She hadn't asked the 'what' question - that would have been easier - she'd asked the 'who' one!

What struck us about the question, which not only demonstrates how uber-smart she is (and we already know that), was about how difficult it was to answer.  After all, who is Gd?

Olivia, bless her, is not the first person to ponder as to the identity of the Almighty.  Her question goes way back to another child of a similar age who lived along the banks of the Tigris three millennia ago.

Fragments of a Midrash, Kitei Bereshit Rabbah, that was found in the Cairo Geniza tells us that when Avram Avinu was born, a star rose in the east and swallowed four stars in the four corners of heaven.  The evil King Nimrod was told by his wizards that Terach was the father to a son from whom a people would emerge, that would inherit this world and the world to come.  Nimrod wanted Terach to hand over the boy to him so that he could be killed.  Terach responded by hiding Avram in a cave for three years.

"When Avram was three years old, he left the cave and observing the world, wondered in his heart: ‘who had created heaven and earth and me’?  All that day, he prayed to the sun.  In the evening, the sun set in the west and the moon rose in the east.  Upon seeing the moon and the stars around it, he said, “This one must have created heaven and earth and me - these stars must be the moon's princes and courtiers.”  So, all night long he stood in prayer to the moon.  In the morning, the moon sank in the west and the sun rose in the east.  Then he said, “There is no might in either of these.  There must be a higher Lord over them - to Him I will pray, and before Him I will prostrate myself.”

(Quoted from "The Book of Legends: Sefer Ha-Agaddah: Legends from the Talmud and Midrash edited by Hayim Nachman Bialik and Yehoshua Hana Ravnitzky - 1992 edition, Shocken Books Inc.)

I have heard this story quoted to me in different iterations since I was a child and although it presents an answer to the question of 'Who is master of the Universe?', does it really try to explain ‘who’ Gd is…and can a child of three really figure that out, even someone as brilliant as Avram undoubtably was?

The Rambam/Maimonides is similarly sceptical and presents a different viewpoint in the Mishneh Torah's Laws of Idolatry:

Mishneh Torah, Foreign Worship and Customs of the Nations 1:3

As soon as this giant was weaned, he commenced to busy his mind, in his infancy he commenced to think by day and by night, and would encounter this enigma: How is it possible that this planet should continuously be in motion and have no leader—and who, indeed, causes it to revolve, it being impossible that it should revolve [by] itself?  Moreover, he neither had a teacher nor one to impart thought to him, for he was sunk in Ur of the Chaldeans among the foolish worshippers of stars, and his father, and his mother, like all the people, worshipped stars, and he, although following them in their worship, busies his heart and reflects until he attains the path of truth, and, by his correct thinking, he understood when he finally saw the line of righteousness.

He knew that there is One God; He leads the planet; He created everything; and in all that is there is no god save He.  He knew that the whole world was in error, and that the thing which caused them to err was, that their worshipping the stars and the images brought about the loss of the truth from their consciousness.  And, when Abraham was forty years old, he recognized his Creator.

After he came to this comprehension and knowledge, he started to confute the sons of Ur of the Chaldeans, and to organize disputations with them, cautioning them, saying: “This is not the true path that you are following”, and he destroyed the images, and commenced preaching to the people warning them that it is not right to worship any save the God of the universe, and unto Him alone it is right to bow down, to offer sacrifices, and compound offerings, so that the creatures of the future shall recognize Him.

The Rambam's sensible approach to this quandary seems valid.  He recognises that Avram started his journey at the tender age of three and spent the next four decades formulating his ideas and following different paths of belief, including idol worship, until he reached the age when the answer to his quest made sense.  In trying to understand who Gd was, he himself had to appreciate who he was.  It was in facing life's challenges that he was able to recognise his own place in society and in doing so, where he could fit within Gd's universe.

A few weeks ago, we read how Gd consulted with the angels to create Adam and proceeded to do so 'in His own image'.

Genesis 1:27 And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.

בראשית א׳:כ״ז וַיִּבְרָ֨א אֱלֹקִ֤ים ׀ אֶת־הָֽאָדָם֙ בְּצַלְמ֔וֹ בְּצֶ֥לֶם אֱלֹקִ֖ים בָּרָ֣א אֹת֑וֹ זָכָ֥ר וּנְקֵבָ֖ה בָּרָ֥א אֹתָֽם׃

 

I don't think Olivia would understand the answer to her question right now and perhaps, she may need many years to work it out herself but perhaps, if we learn to know who ‘we’ are, we will have a better understanding of who ‘Gd’ is.  We have Godliness in ourselves if we choose to follow His example.  The kindness he bestowed on us by creating the world, populating it with beautiful vistas, extraordinary wild-life and ultimately His role in our own formation is simply remarkable.

We have, should we wish to exercise it, the power to change others' lives and this points to our role in emulating Gd.  By being the best people we can aspire to be, we become closer to Him and understand Him as best as we can.  That is not to say that we can hope to comprehend why He does the things He does because that is clearly beyond our limited intellect.  But even if we listen to our conscience and do the best that we can, we can perhaps receive a glimpse of Who Gd is.

And this brings us closer to understanding Rabbi Sacks' insight.

Faith - our belief in a Higher Being is not a proof of the certainty that this being exists.  It is, however, our acceptance that, even though we can only attempt to understand who He is, what He does and why He does it, we still need the courage to hold onto that belief, through the vicissitudes of life.  Both in the highest personal peaks that we conquer and into the deepest troughs that we sometimes find ourselves.  If we want to understand who Gd is, a good place to start is by having the desire to try to find out by looking deep within ourselves and asking who we are.  Little Olivia asked a superb question.  I hope that I have gone some way to trying to answer it.  Perhaps she will discover the answer herself one day and explain it to her three-year-old granddaughter when the question comes up again in the future.

As our late and much-lamented leader wrote:

Faith is not certainty.  Faith is the courage to live with uncertainty

Bonne Courage Olivia!

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshat Noach: Water Water Everywhere...

 Who was the first businessman in the Bible?

Noah.  He floated the company when the world went into liquidation!

 

What kind of lighting did Noah have in the ark?

Floodlighting!

These jokes typify the fondness that we have towards the story of the flood and Noah's rescue via his ark.  Ask a child to tell you a Biblical story and I would guess that you'll probably hear the same tale and how the animals went in 'two by two' (except if they were kosher and then it was 'seven by seven' but let's put that to one side).  Fisher Price even sells a 'Noah's Ark' toy ('Little People Noah's Ark with Bonus Animals')!

The motif of someone saving others has been repeated time and time again, most notably in recent times with the novel "The Zookeeper's Wife" and its subsequent film adaptation.  It is story that truly captures our imaginations again and again and again. 

But have you ever stopped to ask yourself the question as to why Gd might have chosen the ingredient that we cannot survive without as the tool to destroy humanity?  Wouldn't a few earthquakes, volcanoes or a meteorite have achieved the same result?  If He could save Noah through the use of a boat, surely, there may have been another way to rescue him in the event of such natural disasters? 

Why through water and why did He ask Noah to build the ark before telling him that He would destroy the world through a flood?

I will return to the first question shortly.

The second question brings us back to our original quandary, why use water?

The Keli Yakar (Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz d. 1619) a renowned Torah commentator who was also the Chief Rabbi of Prague suggests some fascinating reasons that Gd may have chosen our beloved H₂O to wipe out almost all of humanity.  Their common theme focuses on the erosion of boundaries.

Before the Torah was given and the Sanhedrin was able to enact its penalties, the punishment for the serious sins that corrupted the fabric of society was strangulation.  Gd's Divine Justice in punishing the perpetrators was through a type of strangulation, namely drowning.

The three crimes that brought about such a punishment were:

1)    Relations with a married woman

2)    Theft and deception

3)    Idol Worship (Avodah Zarah)

In the first case, the boundaries of what constituted a family were eroded.  To the point that not only did such an act destroy the sanctity of marriage, but any children borne from an illicit relationship may not have been aware of their patrilineal lineage.

In the second, theft destroys the boundaries of a person's belief in living in a secure environment where there is no trust, there is nary a steady relationship.  Anyone who has been burgled will understand the trauma it entails and the feelings one has of an invasion of privacy.

Thirdly, idol worship destroys the relationship that a human being has with the Almighty.  It is as though the boundary that encircles this special interaction has been erased, removing a person's ability to focus on the idea of the Single Gd.

The Dor Hamabul, the immoral generation of the flood, were guilty of all three acts and, as result, according to the Keli Yakar, they were punished by Gd's version of strangulation.  Just as they erased the boundaries that maintain a strong, moral society, so too did Gd punish them midah keneged midah - measure by measure. 

Water knows no boundaries, as witnessed by the impact it has had on our lives in recent years.  Who has not recoiled in horror at the scenes we witness of flooding, even if this is not on a biblical scale.

Which brings us back to the question as to why Gd told Noah to build the ark in the first place.

Rashi informs us that this was the case because He knew that it would take Noah a very long time to accomplish this and so, in the process, he might be able to convince his mocking spectators to repent before the inevitable deluge would be upon them.  That it took 120 years underscores Gd's desire to delay executing His plan.

In His Divine mercy, despite their actions, Gd gave this generation every chance to avoid a watery grave.  It is a salutary lesson to us that sometimes, although people may behave in a manner that we find abhorrent, no-one is precluded from the opportunity to change their ways and aim to reach a higher moral plane (albeit in a far less serious manner than the behaviour exhibited by the Dor Hamabul).  Sometimes, we need to take a step back and wait for that change to happen before condemning a person. 

This is not always easy to do, but in giving them time, we also help ourselves understand that change happens gradually and if Gd can wait the 120 years it took for Noah to build his ark, we can give a fellow human being at least the same amount of time in days or even months to prove themselves. 

Although this aspect may not be as famous as that wooden boat, it is a salutary lesson for us all to learn

Shabbat Shalom

https://www.fisher-price.com/en-us/product/little-people-noahs-ark-bmm06#:~:text=Noah%20built%20himself%20a%20floating%20zoo%20with%20lots,of%20the%20Ark%20easily%20removes%20for%20play%20inside.

 

Parshat Bereshit: Back to Our Roots

 

This is dedicated to our friend Galen – Gavriel Mordechai ben Pesach Chaim zl

The dismantled Sukkah has been stored away in the shed (or will be - as soon as it stops raining!)

The drama of the 'Days of Awe' is fading into the distance and even the Simchat Torah dancing has taken on the status of the 'Last Hurrah' of a month of festivals.

Soon the days will be drawing in and it will seem as though the brightness of the long summer will be perfectly mirrored by the darkness of an interminable winter.

Even our Torah reflects this change of mood.

A few days ago, we read about the last day of Moses' life and how he blessed the Nation of Israel as they prepared to enter the Promised Land.  One can only imagine the unbelievable sight of the throng of millions of men, women and children encamped on the banks of the Jordan River.

And here we are, less than a week later, rewinding the timeline by nearly three thousand years to the time when there wasn't a single human being alive.

In fact, there was nothing.

The tumult of the former, eclipsed by the silence of the latter.

 

Genesis 1:1-2

"In the beginning of Gd's creating the heavens the earth, when the earth was astonishingly empty, with darkness upon the face of the deep, and the Divine Presence hovered upon the surface of the waters"

Until...

Genesis 1:3

God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.

By the end of 1970, two of the world's most famous partnerships had reached their apex.

In the UK, The Beatles were unmatched by any other group in terms of the quality of their musicianship, influence and impact on society.  The rapturous acclaim garnered by the release the Abbey Road album in the midst of the previous summer may have been somewhat tarnished by the disappointment engendered through the flawed Let it Be project. Paul McCartney's decision to leave the group was greeted by a sense of shock and deep distress by their millions of fans. 

And similarly so, across the Atlantic Ocean, where Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, riding high on the tails of their greatest hit record ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ decided, albeit less publicly, to part their ways.  This was going to be a 'Hazy Shade of Winter' for many, many people.

Both Pauls were very keen to mark their newly found independence by releasing their first solo records eponymously.  'McCartney' and 'Paul Simon' were very different musical offerings to those delivered under their previous incarnations.  Almost pared to the bone, the former was a rustic, mostly acoustic affair produced in-house at a studio on his Scottish farm.  The latter, although co-produced with Roy Halee (the same man who had been responsible for Simon and Garfunkel's output) was much more folksy though similarly quieter in tone than its illustrious predecessor.  Compare the production of songs like 'The Boxer' and 'Keep the Customer Satisfied' with 'Armistice Day' and 'Peace Like a River' and you will know what I mean.  In interviews over the years, both men explained how they had deliberately moved away from the sophisticated production that can be heard on 'Sgt.  Pepper' or 'Bookends' respectively.  Both Pauls were deliberately returning to their roots and starting again on a new path in their musical journeys.  It would take a while until they felt confident enough to reach the point where they could release classics like 'Band on The Run' or 'Graceland'.

One of the most famous Rashi commentaries can be found in the first verse of today's Parsha.  He asks why the Torah started with a description of the Creation.  Surely, it would have made more sense to begin with the first commandment given to the nascent Israelites:

"This month shall be unto you the first of the months” (Exodus 12.2)

He answers that the reason it doesn't do this, is so that Gd could give an account of the work of [His] Creation), in order that He might give them the heritage of the nations.  For should the peoples of the world say to Israel, “You are robbers, because you took by force the lands of the seven nations of Canaan”, Israel may reply to them, “All the earth belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He; He created it and gave it to whom He pleased.  When He willed, He gave it to them, and when He willed, He took it from them and gave it to us”

Gd describes the Creation in our Divine Book because every story has to have a beginning and an explanation of its purpose.  No-one can achieve greatness by releasing masterpieces like 'Abbey Road' or 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' as their initial album.  You have to build up to a crescendo by starting small. 

He describes the process of creating a world that didn't exist and which came into existence bit by bit, from darkness to light, from endless waters to skies and seas; from the formation of one single human being to his female soulmate, to their eventual descendants on the cusp of entering the Land of Canaan.

After the lavish productions that constituted Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Shmini Atzeret / Simchat Torah, we need the opportunity to return to our roots.  To remind ourselves of how it all began and of how we too came into being.  Before we were rabbis and accountants, lawyers and schoolteachers, estate agents and bankers, plumbers and electricians, farmers and even Prime Ministers, we were also seeds waiting to grow.  In our beginnings, we also lived in darkness and did so until we experienced the light of the world outside the womb.

Bereishit teaches us that we don't have to be world-class musicians to remind ourselves that once a year, it does us a great deal of good to find pleasure in the simple gifts of life.  As the 14th century quote states, 'Mighty oaks - from little acorns grow' and returning to our roots is the surest way to plant the metaphorical seeds that we hope will bring us a successful new year.

Enjoy your journey through 5782!

Shabbat Shalom.

 

 

Parshat Ki Tavo: Sticks and Stones

 

Lovingly dedicated to the memory of our friend, mother & grandmother

Sherril - Sarah bat Chaim Eliezer, aleha hashalom

 

When I was growing up my knowledge of our collective history consisted of the Bible stories I had learned in school through studying the Torah.  When I write 'Bible', as far as I was concerned, this only consisted of the Torah as we didn't look much at the other two books of the Old Testament.  Yes, I knew about David and Goliath and of course was aware of other historical events connected to our calendar, such as the Books of Ruth and Esther and the destruction of the Temples, but to be truthful, the many books that were included in Neviim (Prophets) and Ketuvim (writings) were a mystery to me. 

 

I understand why Jewish schools don't (or in my case, didn't) teach Tenach.  Many of the episodes are distinctly unsuitable for a young audience.  You can therefore imagine my surprise as I slowly delved into these tomes and expanded my knowledge.  Moses died in the very last chapter of the Torah, but that didn't mean that the people who he brought out of Egypt 'stayed put' by the banks of the Jordan River.  The Book of Joshua immediately takes up the story of our nation upon the death of Moses…literally! It is the Haftorah of the last Parsha which we read on Simchat Torah.  It would be wrong to consider it a sequel to the Torah, but it does continue the narrative started in the last two books of our Divine gift.

 

A case in point can be found in this week's Parsha:

Deuteronomy 27: 1-5

Moses and the elders of Israel gave the following instructions to the people: Keep the entire mandate that I am prescribing to you today.  On the day that you cross the Jordan into the land that Gd your Lord is giving you, you must erect large stones and plaster them with lime.  When you then cross over, you shall write on them all of this Torah.  In this manner you shall come to the land that Gd your Lord is giving you, the land flowing with milk and honey that Gd, Lord of your fathers, promised you.  When you cross the Jordan, you shall set up these stones that I am now describing to you on Mount Ebal, and you shall plaster them with lime. There, you shall then build an altar to Gd, your Lord.  It will be a stone altar and you shall not lift up any iron to it.

 

The Torah continues by listing the curses and blessings that would be shouted out by the Levites to the Tribes, six of whom were on Mount Ebal (the curses) and the other six on Mount Gerizim (the blessings) but there are different interpretations as to the exact manner in which this was carried out.

 

Sure enough, we read the following in the Book of Joshua:

Joshua 8: 30-32

Then Joshua built an altar to the Lord, Gd of Israel, on Mount Ebal, as Moses, the servant of the Lord, had commanded the Children of Israel, as is written in the book of the law of Moses, an altar of whole stones upon which no man had lifted up any iron.  They offered on it burnt offerings to the Lord and brought sacrificed peace offerings.  And he wrote there upon the stones, a copy of the law of Moses which he wrote in the presence of the Children of Israel

You may be surprised to know that it is possible that this altar still exists on the very site described in both the Parsha and the Book of Joshua!

 The late Israeli archaeologist Adam Zertal (who died in 2015) and his team excavated a number of sites in the Mount Ebal area of Israel in the early 1980s.  They unearthed a number of 'foot-shaped' structures known as 'Sandalim' and 'Gilgalim'.  This altar, which was built on the bedrock was divided into two strata, both dated to the first Iron Age.  They found the remains of charred animal bones inside the depression in the middle of the structure.  The monumental alter, which was traced to a later level measured 23 by 30 feet and was 10 foot tall with a 23-foot-long ramp leading up to it.  The altar contained a large number of burnt bones and pottery, again dating back to the first Iron Age.

 Zertal claimed that the altar was cultish in nature and controversially added that it was indeed Joshua's edifice as described above.  There was a great deal of opposition to this view amongst his peers and the debate still rages as to its exact status.  There does seem to be general agreement that this was an early Israelite cultish site and the jury is still out on whether it was indeed Joshua's altar.

In February of this year, the Palestinian Authority destroyed part of the outer wall to use the stones as gravel for a road they were building below the structure.  This brings to mind the desecration of historical Jewish sites, such as the Temple Mount in order to change and amend the narrative linking Jewish presence in the Land of Israel over three millennia.  One does not need to look too far back to find people trying to deny our legitimacy, both in recent or ancient history, as witnessed by the recent and worrying growth in Holocaust denial.  As King Solomon famously wrote in Kohelet/Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun."

Last week, a friend invited me to join him on a visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum.  He is a member and had obtained a ticket for the current ‘Epic Iran’ exhibition and very kindly invited me to come along as his guest.

I have a particular interest in this topic as I was fortune enough to visit the Shah’s Iran as a child and have always held a deep and abiding interest in the country and its history.  It also doesn't hurt that the Book of Esther is one of my favourite Biblical texts.

The exhibition, which is open until 12th September, is promoted on the museum's website using the following text:

‘Exploring 5,000 years of art, design and culture, Epic Iran shines a light on one of the greatest historic civilisations, its journey into the 21st century and its monumental artistic achievements, which remain unknown to many.’

Most of the exhibits are on loan from a private collector as well as from institutions such as the Ashmolean in Oxford and the British Museum.  It is well worth visiting and we both enjoyed our time there.

That is, except for one glaring omission - the complete absence of the 'J' word.

Walking around the various exhibits, you would be forgiven for wondering if there had ever been a Jewish presence in the country that is now called Iran. 

That there was a significant and influential Jewish community dating back to the Babylonian exile was completely excised from the narrative. 

Not a single reference.

When displaying maps of the countries which encompassed the Archemid Empire (as per the Book of Esther), Judea was notably absent.  It was as though we had never set foot in the country despite incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, not least the presence of ancient shrines, such as the tombs of Mordechai and Esther and numerous synagogues.

It was obvious from placards detailing the country's recent history (from the early 20th Century) that the curators had a particular message to share with visitors and there could have been an element of fear involved in their decision to preclude our people from their depiction of history.  Perhaps, one day, when the country hopefully returns to its former glory, the title of the exhibition will truly reflect its content.

'Epic Iran' is sadly a misnomer when the Persian Empire which prided itself on its inclusiveness is so woefully represented in the heart of London.

The Parsha of Ki Tavo contains the Tochacha - the warning to our people about what would happen should they choose to take a different path to that detailed in the Torah.  History has demonstrated that this was not an idle threat but a very real portent of what was to come.  That we now have a Jewish State to return to, where Joshua's altar may or may not be situated is a testament to our survival against so many foes.  In a similar vein, whether or not an exhibition on Iran misrepresents its history by ignoring us does not change the facts on the ground.

Returning to my original theme, when the Rabbis canonised the Bible and chose the return to Zion and rebuilding of the Temple as a cut-off point, I suspect that they knew the story of the Jewish people would be ongoing.  This, despite the sometimes dire consequences brought on by the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.

For that is what we do.  Beyond cultish altars and Persian Cylinders, we survive and flourish, because sticks and stones have broken some of our bones but the many names our foes have chosen to call us (or even worse, ignore us) - don't really hurt us.

 

Am Yisrael Chai and Shabbat Shalom.