Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Naso: Qualities that Shine

This year, I had the pleasure of teaching a course in the high school entitled "Facing History," a national curriculum on Holocaust Education that teaches students how we can use learning as a means to increase justice in the world. I opened our class with a reading by Haim Ginott, a gifted psychologist who was once a prisoner in a concentration camp. He writes:

Dear Teacher, 

I am a survivor of a concentration camp.  My eyes saw what no man should witness: Gas chambers built by learned engineers.  Children poisoned by educated physicians.  Infants killed by trained nurses.  Women and babies shot and burned by high school and college graduates.   So I am suspicious of education.  My request is: Help your students become human.  Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths, educated Eichmanns.   Reading, writing, and arithmetic are important only if they serve to make our children more human. 

(Haim Ginott, Teacher and Child). 

In this passage, Ginott raises the distributing truth that while we assume that education is a value of paramount importance, we know of too many examples where education also enables people to commit horrific acts of violence. As a result, Ginott challenges each teacher to see learning as a process of increasing good in the world, so that we might engage each child in a unique way, while also maximizing the potential for good that can come when a person acquires knowledge, a vision that is echoed in this week's parasha.

Parshat Naso contains one of the most famous liturgical passages in the Torah, the priestly blessing, which we now recite either in synagogue as a part of Birkat Kohanim, or on Friday evenings when we bless our children. The passage from the Torah states:

"And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Speak unto Aaron and unto his sons, saying, 'You shall bless the children of Israel, saying to them: 'May the Lord bless you, and keep you; May the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto You; May the Lord life up His countenance upon You, and give You peace...'" (Bemidbar 6:22-27).   

The blessing is beautiful, yet vague, and we turn to our rabbinic commentators to understand how each line of the blessing achieves a specific divine objective. For this week's Dvar Torah, I thought I wanted one commentary on the first line of this blessing, and how it relates to Ginott's message.

To examine the first line of the blessing, which asks that God bless and keep the people Israel, we return to the commentary of Rabbi Naftali Tzi Yehuda Berlin, otherwise known as the Netziv, in his Torah commentary, Ha-Emek Davar. This commentary notes that the first line of the blessing is connected to God's desire to wish a unique kind of success for each member of the Israelite nation:

"May the Lord bless you"- "This implies the blessing appropriate to each person; to the student of Torah success in his studies; the businessman- in his business, etc." (Ha-Emek Davar on Bemidbar 6:23).

The Netziv is forced to explain why how "May the Lord bless you" might apply to each individual Israelite, since God commands the priests to bless everyone in the preceding verse. In response, this commentary notes that the priestly blessing should begin by blessing each person in a manner unique to their needs. The commentary then goes on to explain the meaning of the second half of the verse:

"And keep you"- "A blessing requires guardianship so that it should not, God forbid, be turned to a wrong purpose.  The Torah scholar requires guardianship to save him from pride and bringing the name of the Lord into disrepute, and the like.   The businessman requires guardianship against his wealth becoming a stumbling block to him as in the case of Korah and Naboth, and in its literal sense, against theft and loss" (Ha-Emek Davar on Bemidbar 6:23). 

According to the Netziv, while the first half of this line establishes that God's grace will be uniquely reflected in each person, the second half of the verse promises that God will help a person use their best qualities only to increase good in the world, and not to allow that those qualities to stain that's person's name. For example, while God would want someone blessed with high intelligence to maximize their intellectual potential, God would not want that person's intelligence to be a source of arrogance for that person, for when a person's intelligence becomes a source of arrogance, intelligence itself becomes de-valued, since people associate the value with the worst qualities of humanity.  As a result, when our parasha states, "May the Lord bless you and keep you," our commentators see this blessing as a dual-promise. First, God will help each of shine in a way that is unique to us. Second, God will help us use our qualities in the right way, maximizing the good inherent in each of best qualities so that we might make a positive impact the world.

In Rabbi Solomon Bruer's Hokhmo U'Mussar, he writes that every quality, no matter how seemingly positive, has the potential for good and bad:

“Generally, one divides between good and bad inclinations, good and bad qualities. Actually, such a division does not exist. We have often had the occasion to point out that there is not a single human inclination which is bad and therefore objectionable in itself, as little as there is a single inclination which is good and therefore wholesome in itself. It all depends on the proper usage of these inclinations” (Rabbi Solomon Bruer, Hokhmo U'Mussar, Parshat Toledot).

In this commentary, we see the echoes of Ginott's reading and the commentary of the Netziv on Parshat Naso. Any quality can become a person's greatest asset, or greatest liability, depending on how that quality is used in our everyday engagement with the world. However, in Parshat Naso, God promises to the play the role of educator, helping each Israelite cultivate their unique strengths in a way that brings blessing into the world, a challenge that we all face with our children, and in our community. May we cause our children's best qualities to shine through, letting them be a source of blessing to themselves and one another.

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Bemidbar: Our Great Beit Midrash

One of the most famous quotes from former Chancellor Gerson Cohen z''ll of the Jewish Theological Seminary was that, "No Jewish community has ever thrived without a great Beit Midrash at its center."   Every time I hear this quote, I remind myself than when Cohen uses the term "Beit Midrash," he is not referring to a physical space where one can study, but rather that a place exists where the community can engage in deep, meaningful Jewish Torah for the purpose of allowing their community to thrive.    While it is possible for an individual Jew to engage in valuable Torah on their own, ultimately the creation of a critical mass that learns Torah is greater than what any individual can accomplish alone, a lesson that our rabbinic commentators teach us when we examine Parshat Bemidbar.

Our parasha opens with God commanding Moses to take a census of the Israelite nation prior to the nation marching together from the wilderness of Sinai to the land of Canaan.  The parasha states:

"The Lord spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert, in the Tent of Meeting on the first day of the second month, in the second year after the Exodus from Egypt, saying: "Take a census of the entire congregation of Israel, by families following their fathers' houses; a head count of every male according to the number of their names"" (Bemidbar 1:1-2).   

While most biblical scholars view the census in Parshat Bemidbar as a head-count of those will be able to serve in the Israelite army, a strand of rabbinic commentaries assert that this census is taken because of the relationship between God and the Israelites.   Although his commentary looks at our parasha contextually, Rashi points out that the taking the census might have ulterior divine movies.   He writes:

"The Lord spoke... in the Sinai Desert... on the first of the month": Because they were dear to Him, He counted them often. When they left Egypt, He counted them (Exod. 12:37); when [many] fell because [of the sin] of the golden calf, He counted them to know the number of the survivors (Exod. 32:28); when He came to cause His Divine Presence to rest among them, He counted them. On the first of Nissan, the Mishkan was erected, and on the first of Iyar, He counted them (Rashi on Bemidbar 1:1).

While Rashi points out that God counted the Israelites at several different points in the Torah, making the census in Parshat Bemidbar only one several throughout the Israelites' journey, Rashi's opening that God counted the Israelites frequently because "they were dear to Him" raises the possibility that God commanded this census for a deeper purpose than mere military conscription.   

In a modern commentary, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch argues that the census in Parshat Bemidbar attempts to elevate the entire congregation of Israel by means of counting each of them, for counting each person ensures that every person knows that they count.   He writes:

"When instructing Moses our Teacher to count the children of Israel, the Divine words were carefully chosen to avoid misinterpretation of the symbolism of the desert.   "Elevate the heads of the entire congregation of Israel."   Every individual should be aware that he is capable of being elevated and can reach the greatest heights.    In the last Parasha of Vayikra, we learn of the mitzvah of taking off every tenth cattle and designating it as holy.  However, when it comes to counting the children of Israel, we must know that every individual is sacred" (Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, Torah Gems: Bamidbar, page 7).   

HIrsch's commentary emphasizes the communal aspect of the census, for making note of how many people are in the community is a subtle reminder to the community of each's person value.    While previous and future censuses might be limited to specific groups within the Israelite nation, this all-encompassing census provides an opportunity to draw attention to the sum of all the nation's parts.   

However, in taking a spiritual and even mystical approach, the Sefat Emet argues that the taking of the census is not for the purpose of counting individual people, but for recognizing the whole of the Israelite nation is infinitely greater than the sum of its parts, and this infinite whole should draw us to the study of Torah.    He writes:

"The Torah that lies before us is the garb of Torah.  It is by means of study that we arouse the force that lies within it.  That is the real power of Israel: to awaken the root of Torah...the Midrash refers to this counting of the children as being "like the scribe's count."  Just as the Torah has words and letters that are subject to counting but its root is high above, beyond all count, so, too, are the souls of Israel countable in this world, while in their root they are beyond all number.   Thus the holy books say that the 600,000 Jews [who came out of Egypt] are parallel to the 600,000 letters in the Torah" (Sefat Emet Bemidbar 4:6).

In other words, the Sefat Emet argues that lest we think that census someone implies that each Israelite is a mere number to be included in an inexorable list of names, one must recognize that each member of the Israelites is endowed with the ultimate sanctity given to the Jewish people.    Furthermore, because the Torah is a book consisting of words and  letters whose ultimate whole is greater than the sum of its parts, one must emphasize the way in which Torah study makes the Jewish people as individuals feel a part of something greater.

Next week, our Upper School be preparing for the holiday of Shavuot with two special events.   First, students in our tenth and eleventh grade bible classes, under the direction of Mrs. Becky Friedman and Ms. Esther DuBow, will be teaching students from grades six through nine about Jewish texts regarding Torah study, Torah values, and Shavuot.  Second, after all the students study together, we will come together to welcome a new Sefer Torah into our community, dedicated by the Zarabi Family.   In each case, our Torah study and Torah education provide powerful educational moments if and only if the individuals in our community come together and engage in the communal celebration and learning that makes our community greater than any individual.   May each of us always feel counted in our learning at Schechter, our community's great Beit Midrash, drawing together one another so that we might make Torah a part of each of us.

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Behar-Behukotai: For Our Own Good

Martin Seligman and Christopher Peterson write in Character Strengths and Virtues: A Handbook and Classification about the value of positive and negative feedback and developing humility in one's sense of self, and the capacity to grow and change.  They write:

"Secure attachment provides a sense of security that can serve as a buffer against the effects of negative feedback. A sense of security by itself should be insufficient to foster humility, however, because a highly secure person might become arrogant if not given realistic feedback. In order to become humble, it seems crucial that a child learn that both positive feedback and negative feedback are worth considering. Such lessons could come from parental modeling of humility, or they might come from humbling feedback. Reality-based feedback from a parent or teacher about one’s strengths and weaknesses would probably be especially useful, particularly if conveyed in an atmosphere of caring and respect" (Martin Seligman and Christopher Petersen, Character Strengths and Virtues: A Handbook and Classification, Kindle Edition).   

Seligman and Peterson's emphasis on the value of learning how to receive positive and negative feedback reminds us that, when worded properly, nothing is more valuable to a person's development than a well-delivered piece of rebuke.   However, the challenge for the giver of rebuke is to understand how to critique an individual aspect of a person's behavior, while also reaffirming the importance of the relationship itself, a model we see in this week's parasha of Behar-Behukotai. 
 
In our parasha, while God makes clear that ignoring the mitzvot will result in harsh punishments, God also makes clear that punishment for ignoring the commandments does not change God's feelings towards the Israelites.  The parasha states:

"And yet for all that, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not despise them, nor will I abhor them, to destroy them utterly, and to break My covenant with them, for I am the Lord their God" (Vayikra 26:44).

While one may be comforted to read that God will not abandon the Israelites when they sin, our rabbinic commentators ask the question as to why God would simultaneously promise punishment and reassure loyalty, and what we can learn from God's decision.

In general, our rabbinic commentators argue that although God may find it necessary to punish the Israelites, punishment for individual or collective failures does not abrogate the covenant between God and the Jewish people.   Rashi writes in his commentary that the above verse provides God's reassurance that even if punishment is warranted, punishment does not requiring a severance of the entire relationship:

"And yet for all that- but even though I shall execute on them this punishment which I have mentioned, when they shall be in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them to make an end of them and to make void.  My covenant which has been with them" (Rashi on Vayikra 26:44). 

According to Rashi, if God did not provide the reassurance in verse 44, one might think that any punishment brought by God would also result in God's abandonment of the covenant.   However, Rashi argues that the Torah includes this verse so that one will know that covenant remains even if punishment is required.

Taking a different interpretive approach, Abraham Ibn Ezra argues that verse 44 not only reassures the Israelites that the covenant will not be broken, but also provides an explanation as to how God's punishment is actually a fulfillment of the covenant itself.   Ibn Ezra states:

"I will not reject them or spurn them so as to destroy them"- I intend only to discipline them until their heart humbles itself..."Annulling My covenant with them"- For I swore to keep My covenant with them.  Even if they have broken, I will not do so, "for I the Lord am their God" (Ibn Ezra on Vayikra 26:44).

According to Ibn Ezra, God's covenant does not exist solely for the purpose of obedience to God's will, as that would assume that God wants us to follow the mitzvot only for the sake of following them.  Instead, the covenant exists so that God might form a relationship with the Israelites that results in their improvement as human beings.   As such, when God brings punishment upon the Israelites, the punishment is for brought to improve the behavior and moral compass of the Israelites, so that the Israelites might be become better partners in the covenant.  Therefore, Ibn Ezra's commentary takes the position that God reassures the Israelites in verse 44 because God wants the Israelites to know that the punishment is brought to strengthen the covenant, rather than weaken it.   

Finally, Rabbi Hayyim ibn Attar, the "Or Ha-Hayyim," argues that verse 44 provides God's opportunity to remind the Israelites the he is loyal to them because of the covenant, and punishment for individual acts will not result in God's abandonment of the Israelites, or flirtation with other nations.   The Or Ha-Hayyim states:

"In the covenant God promised the children of Israel who were going out to Egypt that He would not change them for another nation.  This promise is repeated here- "For I am the Lord your God"- and not of another nation.   This was stated also at Mount Sinai- "You shall be My own treasure from among all peoples"" (Or Ha-Hayyim on Vayikra 26:44).   

The Or Ha-Hayyim's commentary emphasizes that God's promises to the Israelites are eternal, for the covenant at Mount Sinai marked the beginning of a lifelong relationship, rather than a temporal one.  If and when the Israelites are punished, God wants them to understand that their relationship will remain for the long-haul, and that they have nothing to fear.

When I read this week's parasha, I am reminded of God's unique ability in the Torah to simultaneously affirm the need to rebuke the Israelites, yet all reassure them that the covenant remains for eternity.    In this sense, we can learn a great deal about education in our parasha, because a forming a lifelong educational relationship requires that teachers and learners have the comfort with one another to offer criticism while still understanding that the relationship will endure.   May we challenge ourselves to use our parasha a paradigm of offering feedback and remaining loyal to one another, for it is these two values that ultimately strengthen learning communities in every generation.   

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Emor: God's Harvest

On April 22nd, communities around the world celebrated Earth Day, a holiday created to remind us of our obligation to be mindful stewards of our planet. In an article entitled "Tending to Our Cosmic Oasis," former Chancellor of JTS Ismar Schorsch writes that Judaism obligates us to reject the notion that all our material possessions are permanent, but rather that anything we own or posses is ultimately due to God's grace. Schorsch writes:

"...Judaism pulsates with reverence for God’s handiwork. Man may embody the highest form of consciousness in the universe, but hardly merits the limitless power of an absolute monarch. His unique ability to unravel the secrets of nature does not make him the equal of its creator...Judaism is a religious tapestry designed to sharpen our eye for the divine, in nature as well as in history, and thus is laced with universal motifs relevant to our contemporary crisis" (Ismar Schorsch, "Tending to Our Cosmic Oasis," The Melton Journal: Issues and Themes in Jewish Education, Vol. 24 (Spring 1991), 3).

Chancellor Schorsch cautions anyone from assuming that our ability to have possessions means that we are permanent owners of anything, for all things in this world are subject to God's will, and anyone blessed with plenty must use their good fortune to bring divine sanctity into this world, an idea expressed in Parshat Emor's depiction of the mitzvah of the omer.

Parshat Emor describes God's command to the Israelites that, prior to eating any food that is produced in the harvest season, the Israelites should bring an omer of their harvest to the Kohanim for a sacrifice. The parasha states:

"And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Speak to the children of Israel and say to them: When you come to the Land which I am giving you, and you reap its harvest, you shall bring it to the kohen an omer of the beginning of your harvest. And he shall wave the omer before the Lord so that it will be acceptable for you; the kohen shall unblemished lamb in its first year as a burnt offering to the Lord..." (Vayikra 23:9-12).

As is often the case in Sefer Vayikra, our rabbis were curious as to meaning behind the mitzvah of the omer, and how providing this portion of our harvest to God achieves certain larger aims in terms of the relationship between God and the Israelites. Beginning with our rabbinic midrashim, the bringing of an omer is considered intimately connected to something about the divine-human relationship. The midrash states:

"Do not take the precept of the omer lightly, for it was by merit of this commandment Abraham was privileged to inherit the Land of Canaan...as it is stated, "And I will give You, and to your seed after you, the Land..." (Genesis 17:8) on condition that you shall keep My covenant (17:9). What is meant by covenant? The precept of the omer" (Midrash Vayikra Rabbah 28:6).

The above midrash argues that something about the omer relates to the covenant between God and Abraham, as their covenant remains a paradigm through all of Jewish history. However, the midrash is opaque in terms of how exactly collecting the omer specifically reminds one of the covenental relationship.

Two later commentaries on the Torah offer a similar theme about the true meaning of the omer, and how bringing an omer to the kohanim makes a profound statement about the nature of our material possessions and our relationship with God. First, the Akedat Yitzhak, a super-commentary on Rashi by Rabbi Isaac ben Moses Arama, argues that collecting an omer of the first fruits acknowledges the covenant by forcing the individual to recognize that their harvest, no matter how bountiful, does not belong to them, but ultimately belongs to God:

“The declaration “When you come to the land which I give to you” collocates with the Divine promise, “For the Lord your God brings you into a good land...a land of wheat and barley...a land in which you shall eat bread without scarceness....when you have eaten are replete, then you shall bless the Lord your God...Beware that you forget not the Lord your God.”  The land was to be given to the people of Israel as a means to an end, as a necessary tool to achieve the ultimate goal and satisfaction (i.e. the appropriation of the Torah).  The omer of the first fruits reflects this idea.   Hence the prohibition to eat from the new produce before the offering up of the omer.   The priest is to wave it before the Lord in order that the offering of the people may be accepted and their awareness deepened that all this is at our disposal- not for its own sake, as fools are wont to think, but to enable us to serve God” (Akedat Yitzhak on Vayikra 23).   

According to the Akedat Yitzhak, lest one believe that a bountiful harvest is indicative of a person's own intrinsic worth, the mitzvah of the omer exists to remind each Israelite that any bounty from that harvest exists not for material wealth for its own sake, but to serve God. By extension, each time one sanctifies a piece of their harvest to God, they are not only acknowledging God's sanctity in the short-term, but making a statement about humanity's responsibility to obey God in the long-term.

Second, Rabbi Moses Alshikh, a sixteenth-century Torah commentator, writes that the omer not only reminds the Israelites that they are not responsible for indefinite material gains, but also that they are not responsible for their inheritance of the land of Israel. Alshikh states:

"Lest we succumb to pride, God has commanded us to offer up the earliest product of the Israelite harvest presenting the priest one omer as a token of our gratitude, of our acknowledgment that God is the Creator of the Land and all it produces...When you come to the Land implies no conquest but the acquisition of a legacy. This may foster the illusion that the Land belongs to Israel permanently and unconditionally, to be inherited by their children to be tilled and cultivated, and to reap the fruits of their sweat and toil" (Moses Alshikh on Vayikra 23:10).

According to Alshikh, we should not limit our understanding of the omer's significance to only the harvesting of the land, but of Israel's inheritance of the land itself. God will provide the Israelites a beautiful land with which to reap successful harvest, yet the harvests and the land itself are both depend on our willingness to accept God's Torah, and live our lives in intimate connection to the Divine.

Whether we are thinking about humanity's relationship to the environment, or how we teach our children to value people and community more than things, the above commentaries about the omer teach us what it means to maintain humility about who really "owns" our possessions, and take notice of the ways that we can allow God's presence to overcome the temptations of materialism. All of us, at any stage of life, can become convinced that we are the masters of our destiny and possessions, yet ultimately our parasha provides us a model by which we can take a step back, and give something ourselves as a means of acknowledging that God's role in providing us a bounty through which we can harvest all the goodness in our lives.

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Aharei Mot-Kedoshim: Marshmallows and Holiness

If I had to choose a single scientific experiment that significantly impacts my work as a Jewish educator, I would choose the famous Stanford Marshmallow Experiment . This experiment consisted of a group of young children who were left alone in a room with a piece of their favorite candy, and were told that they could either eat the single piece of candy now, or wait fifteen minutes and receive an entire bag of that type of candy. Ultimately, after observing the students for the next several decades, the researchers found that the students who were able to delay gratification for fifteen minutes demonstrated higher achievement in a number of areas than those who chose not to wait and ate the single piece of candy.  

As a Jewish educator, I look at this experiment and remember that we oftentimes fail to teach our children that delayed gratification is a Jewish value, and the basic practice of practicing restraint in certain areas of our lives benefits us spiritually, inter-personally, professionally, and even materially. Believe it or not, this idea can be found in Parshat Aharei Mot-Kedoshim when we closely examine how our rabbis interpret the famous verse where God says, "You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am Holy" (Vayikra 19:2).  

One of our earliest midrashim on this verse establishes the idea that holiness represents an ability to separate one's own behavior from the behavior of others. The Sifra states:

"You shall be holy"- you shall set yourselves apart. "For I, the Lord your God, am holy"- meaning that if you make yourselves holy, I shall credit you as if you had sanctified Me, but if you do not make yourselves holy, I shall view as if you have not sanctified me" (Sifra Kedoshim 1:1).  

This midrash argues that sanctifying oneself is inherently connected to sanctifying God, and our later commentators will be tasked with understanding what are the specific actions that define our capacity to attain that sanctity.

However, when our Medieval Commentators examine this verse, a famous debate takes place in the commentaries of Rashi and Ramban as to whether or not this verse should be read narrowly or broadly. Rashi writes:

"“You shall be holy”: abstain from forbidden relations and from sin.  The concept of holiness always accompanies the laws of sexual relations..." (Rashi on Vayikra 19:2).

Rashi's commentary asserts that the statement "You shall be holy" must be connected to the forthcoming prohibitions of illicit sexual relationships, since the broad principle would most likely apply to the specific prohibitions that the Torah ultimately lists. If we read the verse from our parasha narrowly, we can see the appeal in Rashi's interpretation, as it limits the principle of "You shall be holy" to that which immediately follows it.

However, when the Ramban examines the same verse, he argues that Rashi construes the verse too narrowly, and ignores the broadly principle that is explicated through this entire passage. The Ramban states the following:

"In my opinion, this "purity," is not, as Rashi holds, confined to the laws of sexual relations, but rather that associated throughout the Talmud with the pious, called Perushim (abstemious, saintly). This is so because the Torah forbids certain relations and foods, permits intercourse with one's wife and the consumption of meat and wine...Therefore, after outlining absolute prohibitions, we are given a general command of restraint from things that are permitted" (Ramban on Vayikra 19:2).

According to the Ramban, while Rashi is correct to relate the principle of "You shall be holy" to sexual relationships, Rashi ignores the fact that similar language in used in other places where holiness is connected to the importance of restraining one's behavior. Instead, the Ramban argues that we should see the principle of "You shall be holy" as introducing us to limitations placed upon for a specific act that, under other circumstances, we are permitted to perform. For example, while the Torah limits specific sexual relationships, the Torah also states that it is a mitzvah to procreate. Similarly, while the Torah describes examples when a person can or should limit or abstain from consuming alcohol, such as in the case of the nazir, the Torah does not completely prohibit alcohol consumption. In each case, the Ramban argues that the Torah is attempting to explain how placing limitations upon ourselves is an essential element towards pursuing a pathway of holiness.

In the modern commentary, Chancellor Ismar Schorsch argues that the statement "You shall be holy" expresses Judaism's promotion of self-denial as an act of spirituality. He writes:

“....holiness in Judaism begins with self-denial.  The basic thrust of the Torah is to limit our freedom of action.  In Jewish law the proverbial 613 commandments break down into 365 proscriptions and only 248 prescriptions.   The ideal is not to be governed by our impulse, nor to try out everything that we are capable of doing.   Dissipation is a danger to both health and truth.  Judaism is our Walden Pond where simplicity is the key to mastering life; less is more, and “a man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to let alone” (Henry David Thoreau)” (Ismar Schorsch, “Aharei-Mot Kedoshim: What is Holiness?”, Canon Without Closure: Torah Commentaries, 420).

One cannot read Schorsch's commentary without seeing the echoes of Ramban's interpretation, for Chancellor Schorsch is notes that we choose not to do says a great deal about our capacity for divine connection. In each case, our rabbis articulate that the Torah aims to use prohibited acts as a means of attaining sanctity by emphasizing the value of teaching restraint, delayed gratification and impulse control.

At every stage of life, we are faced with opportunities to act impulsively, or to show restraint. Whether we are tempted to say something inappropriate to or about a friend or colleague, decide whether to have a salad or a slice of pizza for lunch, or spend our money or place it in the bank, all of us spend our lives living through moments when restraint is a value that pays short-term and long-term dividends. Fittingly, our rabbis understand the principle "You shall be holy" as imploring us to embrace restraint as a Jewish value, and may we teach that principle to children, students, and members of our community.

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Tazria/Metzora: Tza’raat, Fast and Slow

Last year, I read Daniel Kahneman’s magnificant book Thinking, Fast and Slow, which provided a window into ways our mind makes judgments that are “fast,” quick and intuitive, verses judgments that are “slow,” or deliberative and holistic.   According to Kahneman, there are major consequences for teaching people to be more slow to judgment in how they make decisions.  He writes:

“We would all like to have a warning bell that rings loudly whenever we are about to make a serious error, but no such bell is available, and cognitive illusions are generally more difficult to recognize than perceptual illusions.   The voice of reason may be much fainter than the loud and clear voice of an erroneous intuition, and questioning your intuitions is unpleasant when you face the stress of a big decision.   More doubt is the last thing you want when you are in trouble.   The upshot is that it is much easier to identify a minefield when you observe others wandering into it than when you are about to do so.    Observers are less cognitively busy and more open to information” (Thinking, Fast and Slow, 417).   

Kahneman’s theory is that one ultimately makes better, more thoughtful judgments when they think “slow,” yet thinking slow requires that we have the discipline to stop and judge our perceptions for a second time, an idea that is reflected in this week’s parasha of Tazria-Metzora.

The general consensus of our rabbinic commentators is that while we cannot ignore the literal ways in which tza’raat affects the Israelite community, the actual effect of tza’raat is meant to be a decidedly spiritual one.   In his commentary on the Mishnah, Moses Maimonides writes that tza’raat is a supernatural phenomenon:

“Tza’raat was meant as a warning and chastisement, for we are obviously not dealing here with natural illnesses, since garments and houses are inanimate.   This is rather a wondrous supernatural phenomenon...whatever happens to the garments and houses is, like the plague affecting the human being, called tza’raat figuratively...and the tza’raat becomes clean when its color turns white again--and this is the most important message and purpose, because of the spiritual nature of the entire subject of tza’raat” (Maimonides, Commentary to Mishnah Negaim 12:5).   

If we accept Maimonides’ contention that we should look at tza’raat as a spiritual, rather than literal, affliction, it would also make sense for us to see the lessons that we can take this parasha as spiritual, rather than literal.   Below, I will share how our rabbinic interpret one particular aspect of the procedure for determining tza’raat in Parshat Tazria/Metzora, and how making a distinction between the literal and spiritual can teach us something essential about the value of thinking “slow” in our relationships with one another.

When our parasha describes how a Kohen should determine whether or not a person is afflicted with tza’raat, the Torah includes a curious repetition concerning the procedure how the Kohens should check for tza’raat:

“The Kohen shall examine the affection in the skin of his body: if hair in the affected patch has turned white and the affection appears to be deeper than the skin of his body, it is a leprous affection; when the Kohen sees it, he shall pronounce him impure” (Vayikra 13:3).

When examining this passage, our rabbis note that our verse states two times that the Kohen “looks” at the garments in order to determine tza’raat.  In response, our rabbis determine that the multiple uses of the word “look” provides us a window in the spiritual message of this mitzvah.

Commenting upon a later which references the need for a Kohen to look and determine whether or not a person is afflicted with tza’raat, Rashi asserts that there exists different reasons why a Kohen might “look” for tza’raat in different situations.  He writes:

“And on the day” (13:14)” What does Scripture teach? It comes to teach that there is a day when you may see it and there is a day when you may not see it. Hence our rabbis said, “A bridegroom is granted [exemption from examination] all the seven days of celebration for himself and his garments and his house; and similarly on a festival one is granted exemption all the days of the festival” (Rashi on Vayikra 13:14).

This commentary, which alludes to rabbinic teachings that can be found in the Babylonian Talmud in Moed Kattan 7b and Bechorot 34b, implies that there exists instances where it is clear that one must declare a person to be impure, yet there are also instances where circumstances would require one not to declare someone impure, even if they might be impure according to only the letter of the law.

Regarding our verse specifically, the Meshekh Hokhmah, the Torah commentary of Rabbi Meir Simha Ha-Kohen of Dvinsk, takes a spiritual approach and writes that the repetition of “seeing” refers to two different modes of looking, each of which reflects a certain aspect of interpersonal engagement.  He writes:

“Why the redundancy? One can say that the verse refers to two different aspects. In the first, the Kohen shall examine the affection. This involves the physical act of looking, where the Kohen checks to see if there are signs of tzara’at. The second aspect, though, refers to another type of “looking.” Thus we are told, for example, that if the person is a bridegroom in the first seven days of his marriage or if a person comes to the Kohen in the middle of a festival, the Kohen does not judge the person to have tzara’at until that week or that festival has ended, so as not to disturb his joy. Thus, the Kohen must “look” at various external factors as well, for the ways of the Torah are ways of pleasantness. (Meshekh Hokhma, Rabbi Meir Simha Hakohen of Dvinsk, 1843-1926, Latvia).

In this commentary, the looking commanded of the Kohen refers to both the external physical indications of tza’raat, as well as the contextual factors surrounding that person’s life at that moment.   By implication, the Meshekh Hokhma argues that it would be possible for a Kohen to observe the external, physical characteristics of tza’raat, yet still not pronounce that person impure, if the external factors do not warrant such a ruling.   This reading of the text from Vayikra provides a powerful example of how a Jewish religious authority might think “slow” before they make a ruling with important implications.

By emphasizing the various ways in which a Kohen must “look” at a person afflicted with tza’raat, our parasha is teaching us something essential about what it means to make judgments about other people.   In our parasha, it would be easy to assume that the Kohen should simply take a quick look at a person, and make a cut-and-dry decision as to whether or not they are afflicted with tza’raat, yet, in reality, our parasha demands that the Kohen take the slow approach to pronouncing affliction.  Similarly, in our relationships with one another, most us make snap judgments that affect our entire attitude towards other people when we meet them, taking the “fast” approach, when, in reality, we must be “slow” to look at another person, trying to understand the entire person before we judge them.   By extension, as we raise our children to become caring, kind human beings, we must embrace the challenge of helping them look slowly at other people, see the whole person, and use that as a means to find the good them.    May we embrace our parasha’s call for us to make evaluations based on everything we see, and not just from a snapshot of what think we see.

Shabbat Shalom!

Divrei Rav Josh- Parshat Shemini: A New Ritual, A New Name

One of my favorite novels is The Fifth Mountain by Paulo Coehlo, which is a modern retelling of the story of Elijah the prophet, where the prophet is forced to deal with the tragedy to being alone and beginning anew when no one else understands him.  At the climactic point in the novel, the main character challenges a group of villagers to see how they might tell a new story about themselves in the wake of destruction:

“Tragedies do happen.  We can discover the reason, blame others, imagine how different our lives would be had they not occurred.  But none of that is important: they did occur, and so from there onward we must aside that fear that they awoke in us and begin to rebuild.   Each of you will give yourselves a new name, beginning at this very moment.   This will be the sacred name that brings together in a single word all that you have dreamed of fighting for” (Paulo Coehlo, The Fifth Mountain, 212-213).

This passage imagines what it would be like to the past behind us, and walk into a new future with a new name, and a new purpose, a vision recognized our rabbis understanding of the opening of Parshat Shemini.   

When I read the weekly parasha, I oftentimes find myself trying to understand how an individual event or command fits into the entire narrative of the Torah, specifically how what a statement to one character at a particular time means in light of what happened previously in that character’s life.   Parshat Shemini opens with a description of God instructions to Moses and Aaron as to how one should begin preparing the mishkan for divine service.  The parasha states the following:

“And Moses said: 'This is the thing which God commanded that you should do; that the glory of God may appear unto you.'  And Moses said unto Aaron: 'Draw near unto the altar, and offer thy sin-offering, and the burnt-offering, and make atonement for yourself, and for the people; and present the offering of the people, and make atonement for them; as God commanded.'  So Aaron drew near to the altar, and slew the calf of the sin-offering, which was for himself” (Vayikra 9:6-8).

For our rabbinic commentators, the completion of and service in the mishkan is related to the aftermath to the building of the Golden Calf.    While the building of the Golden Calf represented an instance where the Israelite community came together for a profane purpose, the mishkan represented an opportunity for the community to come together for a sanctified purpose.  Aviva Zornberg summarizes the nature of this transition in her book The Particulars of Rapture:

“...in the midrashic versions of the Golden Calf episode a pockmarked future history of infidelity and intransigence has left its traces.   The essential question, then, is of the possibility of teshuva, of change.  If “love of authority” is the underlying perplexity of human experience, is an authentic relation to the other at all conceivable?”  (Aviva Zornberg, The Particulars of Rapture: Reflections on Exodus, 413).   

According to Zornberg, once the Israelites prove able to construct the mishkan and offer divine service in it, they will have demonstrated their capacity for change, a powerful example of a how person or community’s individual mistakes need not prevent them from transformative growth.

For our rabbinic commentators, no person benefited from the transformative change of building the mishkan than Aaron, who was intimately involved in the construction of the Golden Calf, yet who was also tasked with leading the people in priestly rituals and the sacrificial rites.   One midrash points out that the service in the mishkan tested the Israelites by intentionally reminding Aaron of all the acts performed when constructing the Golden Calf:

“When the Israelites made the Golden Calf, God told Moses, “Now leave Me alone...and I will destroy them.”  Moses said to God: “Test them [the Israelites] to see whether they will make the Mishkan.”  What did the Torah say regarding the failure at the Golden Calf?   “Remove the gold rings.”  And what the Israelites brings?  Rings.  And when they made the Mishkan, they made the same contribution.  And that is what is written, “All who were generous of spirit brought nose-rings and earrings, rings and bracelets”- the Israelites sinned by means of earrings, and so God would be satisfied by means of earrings” (Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 48:5).   

In this midrash, everything that the Israelites were asked to donate and bring for the construction of the mishkan were items previously used in the construction of the Golden Calf, a type of measure-for-measure decision on the part God that linked these two events in the minds of the Israelites and Aaron, in particular.

However, when our commentators analyze Parshat Shemini, they note that Aaron’s memory of the Golden Calf impedes his enthusiasm for the divine service is about commence in the mishkan during this parasha.  As a result, Moshe offers Aaron words of encouraged described in the following midrash:

“And Moses and Aaron came to the Tent of Meeting”- when Aaron saw that all the sacrifices had already been offered and all the actions had already been performed, but the Divine Presence was not descending to Israel, Aaron stood and was troubled.  He said, “I know that God is angry with me; it is because of me that the Divine Presence has not come down to Israel.   This is what my brother Moses did to me- I went out and was embarrassed, because the Divine Presence did not descend to Israel!”  Moses immediately entered with him, and they asked for Divine mercy, and the Divine Presence descended to Israel.  Therefore, it is written, “Moses and Aaron came to the Tent of Meeting” (Sifra, Parshat Shemini).   

This midrash takes a psychological approach, and invites us to empathize with Aaron’s hesitation to begin his priestly service, given the guilt he felt over the construction of the Golden Calf, and how Moses’ statement to Aaron attempted to renew Aaron’s focus and passion for divine service.    Therefore, if we are to see as the construction of the mishkan as an opportunity for the Israelites to atone for the sin of the Golden Calf, we must also see the Aaron’s service as an opportunity for him to no longer be remember as the man who constructed the Golden Calf, but the man who inaugurated divine service, a man with a “new name.”   

Similar to my Dvar Torah last year, I remained fascinated by the way in which our rabbis’ understanding of Parshat Shemini teaches us something powerful about our capacity for change, and what it means to walk into new opportunities that allow us to close less flattering chapters of our lives, and write news one of hope and opportunity.   When a student makes a mistake, they imagine that this mistake will define them forever, yet if education is a process of our growth, our task is to help students see how they move beyond their mistakes, write new chapters in their lives, and move forward.   May we embrace this task, and like Moses, walk with our students and children down pathways of growth, change, and possibility.   

Shabbat Shalom!