Monday, March 18, 2013

Tzav


Leviticus 6:1–8:36 - Shabbat HaGadol

Ears, Thumbs, And Toes

The ceremony installing the priests teaches the importance of consecrating the entire body for sacred service.

Traditionally, the Book of Vayikra (Leviticus) was known as Torat Kohanim, "the Teachings of the Priests." Its contents are directed to people who would be ministering in the Temple in Jerusalem, and its topics pertain to priestly sacrifice, ritual and purity.

Yet, our tradition also holds that the eternal task of the Jewish People is to mold ourselves into a nation of priests, a holy people.

In doing so, the standards that apply to a 'kohen' (priest) in the Beit Ha-Mikdash (the Temple) are essential tools for elevating our own spiritual and ritual status as well. The same guidance that the Torah provided the '' at his task can ennoble and uplift the serious Jew of today as well.

In seeking to fulfill our divine mission, we turn to the very book that trained God's servants in antiquity as well. At the outset of our commitment to become a nation of priests, we can look with special benefit to the ordination of the 'kohanim' (priests) into their sacred service.

An Elaborate Ceremony
That installation took place amidst elaborate ceremony. The 'kohanim' washed themselves to become ritually pure, and then donned special clothing to demarcate themselves for their activity in the Temple. Anointed with a special oil, the 'kohanim' sacrificed a sin offering to atone for their own shortcomings and errors before attempting to intercede for the atonement of the people.

After sacrificing the ram of burnt offering, Moses took some blood from the ram of ordination, and "put it on the ridge of Aaron's right ear, and on the thumb of his right hand, and on the big toe of his right foot." He then repeated that same ritual for each of Aaron's sons. Finally, the remains of the animal were boiled and consumed by the newly-ordained 'kohanim.'

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Monday, March 11, 2013

Vayikra


Leviticus 1:1−5:26

The Value Of Animal Sacrifices


The institution of animal sacrifice allows us to confront our deepest subconscious urges and needs.


By Rabbi Bradley Artson
Sefer Vayikra, the Book of Leviticus, is at the center of the Torah, not only spatially, but also spiritually.

More than any other single book, Vayikra sets the tone and establishes the central themes of biblical and rabbinic Judaism throughout the ages.

Establishing a Sacred Community
The central focus of Vayikra is on establishing a sacred community--"a nation of priests" whose daily deeds perfect the world under God's rule. By establishing an ideal community, Vayikra recognizes that deeds speak far more eloquently than words, that living in a holy community can provide a sense of God's presence far more pervasive than more ethereal approaches. So far, so good.

Few modern Jews would have any problem, at least in theory, with those general remarks. Our problem starts when we examine how Vayikra defines the detailed practices of a sacred community. What kind of deeds and activities create the core of Vayikra's vision?

At the center of this central book lies a preoccupation with animal and vegetative sacrifice, which is far from the world view of most contemporary Jews (and most contemporary Americans, for that matter).

When we think of religious devotion, we tend to picture silent meditation, appreciation of nature, perhaps even a commitment to ethical living. But the connection between killing animals and serving the Lord escapes us completely.

To understand our own sacred heritage as Jews, to appreciate the religious perspective that emerges from the Torah, the Talmud, and most later Jewish writings, we must come to an understanding of the centrality of Temple ritual and of sacrifice.

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Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Vayakhel-Pekudei


Exodus 35:1–40:38 & 12:1–20 - Shabbat haChodesh

A home for God among us

And everyone who excelled in ability and everyone whose spirit moved him came, bringing to the Lord his offering for the work of the Tent of Meeting and for all its service and for the sacral vestments. Men and women, all whose hearts moved them, all who would make an elevation offering of gold to the Lord, came bringing brooches, earrings, rings, and pendants — gold objects of all kinds. And everyone who had in his possession blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen, goats' hair, tanned ram skins, and dolphin skins, brought them; everyone who would make gifts of silver or copper brought them as gifts for the Lord; and everyone who had in his possession acacia wood for any work of the service brought that. And all the skilled women spun with their own hands, and brought what they had spun, in blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and in fine linen...
What I love about this passage, this rich and detailed description of a construction project I can hardly imagine, is how grassroots it sounds. This isn't some decreed-from-above, top-down, serfs-laboring kind of process; this is everyone with a talent bringing that talent to bear on the work at hand. This is everyone in the community donating what they've got, whether it's gold or fine linen or soft leather. This is a veritable barn-raising, folks. Except that in a traditional barn-raising, the community comes together to build a structure for one of its members; here in our story, the community comes together to build a structure which will be inhabited not by any individual or family, but by the presence of God.

As a contemporary feminist reader of this text, I find much to savor in this passage. Here, women's contributions are valued and honored alongside the contributions of men. And, notably, women contribute in at least two different ways. Both women and men make elevation offerings of gold to God, and women are specifically commended for their skilled weaving-work. In other words, women contribute to the building of the mishkan both on a fiscal level, and on a creative level. They give physical items of value, as well as the spiritually-valuable work of their hands and hearts.

People bring every kind of beautiful thing they had. Cloth and leather, polished wood and precious stones. On a metaphorical level, I imagine, people bring every kind of temperament and creative skill to the process. Those who are even-keeled bring their serenity; those who are hot-headed bring their fire. Woodworkers and weavers, careful introverts and spontaneous extroverts, bring what they have, and who they are, to this work -- work which, the text notes, is fueled by the entire community, each person giving as she or he feels called.

In this week's part of our story, the Israelites take every opportunity to be generous, and that generosity transforms them. The craftsmen Bezalel and Oholiab, and "every skilled person whom God had endowed with skill," together undertake the project of building a suitable home for God's presence. They take, from Moses, all of the gifts the Israelites brought, in order to fashion them into the mishkan. But then, we read:

Monday, February 25, 2013

Ki Tissa


Ki Tissa, Exodus 30:11-34:35
Shabbat Parah 

Tzedakah And Jewish Education

Our communal responsibility to ensure the immortality of the Jewish people depends on our commitment to supporting Jewish education.

Jewish education forms the backbone of our communities.

We assure the community of vitality and endurance through the Hebrew studies of our children, the outreach programs for those considering conversion, and the continuing education programs for other seeking adults. And those programs need our support.

Consider today's Torah portion. God instructs Moses to take a census of the Jewish People in order for each Jew to pay a half-shekel tax to maintain the central communal institution of Jewish learning--the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The Mishkan, a Jewish school!?! Absolutely, since it was there that the entire Jewish community gathered to learn the word of God. And that first school was supported by all. The Torah records:

"Everyone who is entered in the records, from the age of twenty years up, shall give the Lord's offering: the rich shall not pay more and the poor shall not pay less than half a shekel when giving the Lord's offering..." (Exodus 30:14).

So vital was the necessity of everybody contributing to tzedakah (funds for public assistance, literally "justice") that, in the words of Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra (12th-century Spain), the contribution "atones for a soul." According to the Talmud, "Tzedakah is as important as all the other commandments put together."

And precisely because of the centrality of giving--because it is only through supporting the community that we achieve a collective immortality--that this Torah verse imposes an unexpected obligation on the poor. For this verse insists that the poor cannot give less than a half-shekel. According to Maimonides, "even a poor person who lives entirely on tzedakah must also give tzedakah."

Monday, February 18, 2013

Tetzaveh-Shabbat Zachor


Tetzaveh, Exodus 27:20 – 30:10
Shabbat Zachor 

  

Clothes Make The Person

The emphasis on the priestly clothes teaches us the importance of bringing honor and splendor to God and the commandments.

 Overview

We continue with the theme that defines most of the rest of the Book of Exodus: the construction and institution of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that was the place of worship for the Israelites and the House of God among the people during the years of wandering in the wilderness.

Parashat Tetzaveh specifically focuses on the Kohanim, the Priests who perform the rituals and sacrifices on behalf of the people.

Great detailed descriptions are given of the complex ritual garments of the Kohen Gadol (the High Priest--regally resplendent in gold and adornments of precious stones. Details are also given for the seven-day period of sacrifices and rituals required to consecrate the priests for service. The parashah ends with a short description of the golden altar upon which incense was offered and how it too is to be consecrated.
In Focus

Make holy garments for Aaron your brother, for dignity and splendor. (Exodus 28:2)

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Monday, February 11, 2013

Terumah

Exodus 25:1−27:19

The Menorah: Let Your Light Shine

The menorah teaches that each of us has a unique gift to contribute to the world.

Everyone knows that the principal symbol of Judaism is the six-pointed Star of David.

But did you know that the Magen David only became a Jewish symbol in the Middle Ages? Despite its prominence on the flag of Israel and kiddush cups, the Magen David is a rather late representative of Judaism and the Jewish People. For most of our history, and certainly in antiquity, the preeminent symbol of the Jewish religion was the Menorah, the seven-branched candlestick which was found first in the Tabernacle of Moses, and later in the Temple of King Solomon in Jerusalem.

First Mention of Menorah
That menorah is mentioned for the first time in today's Torah reading, when God tells Moses to "make a lampstand of pure gold...its base and its shaft, its cups, calyxes, and petals shall be of one piece. Six branches shall issue from its sides." In reading the description of the Menorah, the confusion is overwhelming--the details are so complex that it is easy to despair of ever visualizing it correctly.

That same confusion must have overwhelmed Moses as well. An ancient midrash, recorded in the Talmud as well, states that "three things presented difficulties to Moses, until the Holy Blessed One showed Moses with His finger:...[one was] the menorah, as it is written, 'and this was the work of the menorah.’" According to another ancient tradition, not God but the angel Gabriel drew a picture so that Moses could see the image that God was portraying in words.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Mishpatim

Here Comes The Judge

Parashat Mishpatim teaches us that our society cannot function without laws, judges, and courts of justice

Mishpatim, Exodus 21:1-24:18, Shabbat Sh’kalim 

At its deepest core, America prides itself on the rule of law--the insistence that no individual, however wealthy, influential, popular or powerful, is superior to the rules which govern human conduct. Above any individual--even the President of the United States--is a body of laws that translate general principles into legal guidelines for harmonious living.

The Case in America That priority was not always the case in America. The West, with its frontier ethic, the South with its racial hatred, and the Northeast with its violence against labor unions often acted against this general commitment to the rule of law. As great a president as Andrew Jackson was, when told of a decision of the Supreme Court that he opposed, responded, "They've made their decision, now let them get their own troops to enforce it!"

In our own age as well, we are accustomed to various presidents claiming immunity from various laws because of their high office. For all the times that Americans don't live up to the principle of law, that ideal still remains a potent force for justice and equality in our society.

That principle allowed the Reverend Martin Luther King to fight the powerful status quo of the South and of Chicago. It allowed student protesters to publicize unpopular views, and it allowed the women's movement and the environmentalists to be able to oppose injustice in our courts. The principle that the law is supreme is a direct inheritance from our biblical heritage.

The Torah is a Law Book The Torah itself is, in part, a book of law, presenting the Jewish conviction that the will of God is translated into action through law. By using the metaphor of law to frame Jewish religious obligations, our tradition lifts goodness beyond the flimsy level of preference or mood, establishing the hatred of evil and the pursuit of righteousness as a mandate at all times and places.

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