When we think of the term “zealous”, it doesn’t always have a positive connotation. Often it can mean pursuit of one goal at the expense of everything else. However, what if the cause for which one is zealous is serving G-d? After all, one of the terms used by Chabad Shlichim to describe themselves is צבאות ה, the army of G-d. G-d also refers to Himself as קנא, an impassioned or zealous G-d, so being zealous is an act of imitatio Dei.

One of the zealots for G-d is mentioned at the beginning of this morning’s Torah portion as well as at the start of every ברית מילה, or bris. “Pinhas the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the Kohen has turned back My wrath from the Israelites by displaying among them his passion for Me so that I did not wipe out the Israelites in my passion. Say therefore ‘I grant him My pact of friendship. It shall be for him and his descendants after him a pact of priesthood for all time, because he took impassioned action for his G-d, thus making expiation for the Israelites.’”[1] Why is it this act that ensures that Aaron’s line will remain Kohanim forever? A Kohen as a servant of G-d is responsible for maintaining the dignity of our holy sites. It is therefore no surprise that the Kohanim are the most zealous in defending our G-d when He is disgraced by idolatry and inappropriate relations. Similarly, it was a family of Kohanim, the Maccabees, who stood up for G-d and Judaism through defeat of the Syrian Greeks. By beginning each Brit Milah with these words from our tradition, we are imploring each Jewish boy to continuing this fight for G-d, even when those around him are disregarding our Torah and our traditions.

In both our parsha and the story of Hanukkah, those who fought for G-d emerged victorious, perhaps because of their passion to perpetuate G-d’s will in the face of others. The Sicari, a group of Jewish zealots who began the Great Revolt against Rome, also had noble intentions. As Josephus chronicles in his book The Jewish War, they revolted after Roman governor Florus stole great amounts of silver from the Temple in Jerusalem. The Sicari were at first greatly successful, defeating the Roman garrison in Jerusalem as well as the governor of Syria, Cestius Gallus. Unfortunately, their success could not continue forever, as the Romans poured more and more troops into Judea. Jews engaged in mass suicide, the most famous of which was Masada after the destruction of the Temple. The Sicari had pure motives, but whereas Pinchas acquired everlasting priesthood for his descendants, their action led to the destruction of the Temple and the exile of Jews from the lands of Judea.

The lesson we learn from Pinchas is that some things are so wrong, going against the core of what we believe, that we MUST take action against them. Fornicating in front of the Holy of Holies was one of these actions that needed to be responded to immediately in that moment. On one hand, we do not want to be zealous about every issue because then we become known as engaging in histrionics and are not taken seriously. On the other hand, we do not want to be zealous for nothing because that means we have no boundaries, that anything goes for us. What we need to do is find times when we take up the torch, as Pinhas did, to show that there are absolutes and lines which we cannot cross. At the same time, we want to look ahead to the end outcome of what we are doing. We do not want to be so zealous that we begin a revolt that we have no chance of winning, like the Sicari did against the Roman Empire.

As we engage in these three weeks of communal mourning, let us think about what we are so passionate for that we would put our lives on the line versus where we are dissatisfied but could live with the status quo rather than undertaking an act of zealotry. It is often difficult to determine this boundary in our daily living; I find it easier to go with the flow, yet at the same time I recognize the dangers in doing so and the importance of taking principled stances. Let us work together on this to ensure that what we stand for makes sense for us and for our community.

We have an example today of one who has stood up for what he believes in, choosing to affirm his beliefs in Judaism and deciding of his own free will to join the Jewish people. Dave-your growth in Jewish observance, your analytic thinking in how to incorporate more aspects of Judaism into your life and your excitement about embracing our faith is some of what we are celebrating today. It has not always been easy for you. First I mentioned to you about needing to talk to your parents and letting them know that you were choosing to embrace Judaism. Then I told you about hatafat dam brit, the three rabbis you would be standing before at the Beit Din and your need to immerse in a mikveh. The way we are supposed to refuse a convert is to say to them “Do you know that Israel in this time is oppressed and afflicted, and trouble comes to them?!”[2] but I felt that telling you about hatafat dam might function as enough of a deterrent. You thought about this and decided it was the path you wanted to follow.

We studied Jewish history, a topic that you love, as well as the Siddur, Kashrut, Shabbat, life cycle events, Tzedakah and the Jewish holidays as they occurred. You also learned how to read Hebrew and now have your own Siddur to continue practicing reading as well as to bring to shul at Syracuse. Nofar attended most of the classes with you, which I loved because it enabled her to continue her Jewish learning and to see where you were at in Hebrew and help you in between lessons. You have gone through all of the steps and are now a Jew, able to count in the minyan, receive an aliyah (as you did for the first time today) while wearing a tallit and to more fully observe Shabbat (which you started doing this month by no longer doing Saturday tutoring). In your example you have truly shown that you are zealous for G-d in all the right ways.

As a measure of our admiration for your accomplishments, it is my pleasure to present to you on behalf of the congregation a mezuzah with a kosher scroll inside for you to affix at your new home in Syracuse. Please also say the bracha for affixing a mezuzah before you do so. I am also pleased to give you a gift, Simon Schama’s The Story of the Jews: Finding the Words 1000 BCE-1492 CE. This has also been made into a 5 part PBS series but I thought you’d appreciate reading the book first. Mazal Tov to Dave, Nofar and the entire family on reaching this joyous day! In order to crystallize the excitement that each of us feels, please turn to Page 841 and continue with me responsively.

[1] Numbers 25:11-13

[2] Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah Laws of Converts Chapter 148 Paragraph 2

One of our core beliefs about God is the three “O’s”: Omniscience, Omnipresence and Omnipotence. A challenge with viewing G-d in these ways occurs when we encounter certain sections of the Torah. For example, after Bilam encounters Balak’s men, G-d appears before him and asks מי האנשים האלה עמך, “Who are these men with you?”[1] If G-d is omniscient and knows who the men are, why would He need to ask Bilam?

Ibn Ezra indicates that the question is used to begin a conversation, like when G-d asks Cain אי הבל אחיך, “where is Abel your brother?”[2] G-d was seeing how Bilam would respond to the inquiry. Rashi comments that Bilam’s arrogance stems from a belief that “there are times when not everything is revealed to Him. His knowledge is not always the same. I shall therefore find a time when I will be able to curse Israel, and He will not know.”[3] Rabbenu Bahya continues along that line of thinking, asserting that G-d is purposely asking a misleading question, desiring for Bilam to err in thinking there are things unknown to Him. He would therefore trip Bilam up, leading to him to think G-d was not omniscient when in fact He is.[4]

My favorite interpretation, as is often the case, is by Rabbi Ephraim of Lunshitz from his book Kli Yakar. He views this inquiry not as a question but rather a rhetorical statement to show G-d’s disgust with Bilam. This is as if to say “you think that the king’s messengers can bring you to curse Israel? They are actually lesser ones!” G-d is telling Bilam that there is only one king, the King of Kings.[5]

We know from English parlance that there are multiple ways in which one can ask a question. One cannot rely on the written word-rather s/he must examine the tone behind what is asked. Bilam does not understand that, instead answering G-d straightforwardly, בלק בן-צפור מלך מואב שלח אלי, “Balak son of Zipor King of Moav sent me.”[6] G-d, recognizing that Bilam did not get the hint, replies strongly לא תלך עמהם לא תאור את העם כי ברוך הוא, “Don’t go with them! Don’t curse this nation, for they are blessed.”[7] We know from later in the story that Bilam is hard-headed, not recognizing subtle signs or even things as direct as his own donkey stopping! While Bilam at first follows G-d’s demands, later he succumbs to going with Balak and his men to curse Israel. However, instead of cursing, he utters words of blessing on four occasions.

The lesson we learn is that we need to always take a moment and look at what’s behind the question that’s being asked. Sometimes things are not what they appear to be, and a superficial informational question can actually be much more complex and asked for a deeper reason. G-d wanted to see how Bilam would respond, to get him to check his temptation to go with Balak at the door and think about the higher purpose for which he was made a prophet. While Bilam did so at first, eventually the lure of more important messengers and riches got the better of him, and he arose early to curse Israel. I hope that in our daily lives we do not act like Bilam, giving in to temptation while forsaking our higher calling and greater purpose.

This depends in part on our role models and examples. Bodhi Violet Brown, you could not have found better people to emulate than your parents Jilliane and Joshua, grandparents Erv, Bonnie z”l, Bill and Sharon, great-grandparents Edward and Eva, great-aunts Rosalyn and Mindy, great-uncle Andrew, aunts Carly, Rebecca and Lori, uncles David, Douglas and Stu. You are named בלימע שרה after an incredible balabusta, Bonnie Hoffman z”l. Blima is Yiddish for the Hebrew Shoshana, a flower at times translated as “lily” or “rose.” Shir HaShirim contains one of my favorite expressions, כשושנה בין החוחים, like a flower amongst the thorns.[8] Bonnie definitely exemplified this persona, and I know Bodhi will as well, flowering not only in terms of beauty but also in developing a strong, independent personality.  Your middle name in English is also a flower, “violet.”

Sura is Yiddish for Sarah, the first matriarch of our people. Of the four matriarchs, Sarah is the one who had it hardest. She had to join her husband Abraham in leaving everything she knew, going halfway across the Middle East to embark on the creation of a new nation. It’s much easier being a follower than a leader, and this pioneer woman deserves credit in being our first Hebrew heroine-long before Wonder Woman. Similarly, we know Bodhi will develop the leadership skills necessary to blaze her own trail, and in doing so she will make us proud.

You also have a baby cousin Shay just born a week and a half ago, and together you will form a beautiful friendship along with your big brother Milo, your cousin Lucy and your cousin-to-be who will come b’shaah tovah, at an appropriate time. How fortunate that you will be able to grow up together.

Mazal Tov on reaching this joyous and most beautiful day. To crystallize the joy of Bodhi receiving her Hebrew name, I’d like to call Jilianne, Joshua and Bodhi to the Bimah as we turn to Page 840 and continue responsively.

[1] Numbers 22:9

[2] Ibn Ezra on Numbers 22:9 ד”ה מי האנשים האלה

[3] Rashi on Numbers 22:9עמך   ד”ה מי האנשים האלה

[4] Rabbenu Bahya Numbers 22:9עמך   ד”ה ויאמר מי האנשים האלה

[5] Kli Yakar Numbers 22:9 Numbers 22:9 ד”ה מי האנשים האלה

[6] Numbers 22:10

[7] Numbers 22:12

[8] Song of Songs 2:2

In January I had just acquired a new IPhone 6 plus, after the LogicBoard of my phone stopped working. The following week I was in the Dominican Republic with Karina and Ariela. Karina went snorkeling while I played with Ariela. I had my phone in my swimsuit pocket to take pictures as I picked her up and put her down in the water. By the time I realized that my phone was there it has been immersed with salt water, and I had to take another trip to the Apple Store for a new phone.

Water gives us life yet it can also have a destructive impact. We see the latter in this week’s Torah portion. Miriam dies[1] and all of a sudden there is no water.  As a result, the Israelites say they wish they were dead; לו גוענו בגוע אחינו לפני ה.[2]  Moses takes their complaint to God, who tells him to take his rod, gather the Israelites and talk to a rock, which will bring forth water.  Instead of talking to the rock, he says to the Israelites שמעו    נא המורים המן הסלע הזה נוציא לכם מים “Listen you rebels.  Shall we procure water from this rock?”[3] and hits the rock twice,[4] causing water to gush forth.  God’s reply to Moses is יען לא האמנתם בי להקדישני “Because you did not believe in me to sanctify me, you shall not enter the Land of Israel.”[5] The bringing forth of water, which generally provides life, becomes for Moses a symbol of his impending death after the years of wandering.

Let’s go back to Miriam’s death.  In rabbinic tradition, Miriam is the source of all water for the Israelites.  Miriam is associated with water from the beginning of Exodus, when she ran after the basket which Baby Moses was in to see what would happen to him.  According to Midrash, she had a magical well which remained full throughout her life, supplying the Israelites with water.  It is only after she dies that the Israelites are without water.

It is also worth comparing this account with the first episode of Moses and the rock, Exodus 17.  The Israelites complain that there is no water and God tells Moses to hit a rock.  He does, and water comes out.  A key difference between that story and the one from this week’s parsha is that Miriam is omitted in Exodus 17, whereas in Numbers 20 her death directly leads to drought.

The fact that Exodus 17 does not involve Miriam, whereas Numbers 20 does, leads to a dramatically different result.  In Exodus 17, Moses is upset at the people’s complaint but he is able to temper his anger to follow God’s command.  In Numbers 20, however, Moses is mourning the loss of his sister.  He was no doubt very upset by this event as well as by the fact that the Israelites had by then been wandering for 38 years in the desert.  The Israelites’ complaint about water pushed Moses over the edge.  He calls the people rebels, which astounds the biblical commentator Ibn Ezra, who exclaims, “How can you use that term to describe the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?”[6]  He is no doubt also outraged at God’s command to talk to the rock, as how could speaking to an inanimate object produce water?  Therefore, in a fury of anger, Moses hit the rock rather than talking to it.

Moses hitting the rock rather than talking to it represents resorting to violence rather than dialogue.  Often we are frustrated with the daily grind of activities and errands.  Our frustration can easily lead to anger and resentment, and as a result, when we are asked to add one more thing to our schedule, we lash out in violence rather than engaging in a conversation with the person as to why we are frustrated.  It can be more difficult to control our temper, relax and say what is on our mind.  From a psychological perspective, I can see Moses being under duress from leading the nation, the stress building little by little day by day until finally he releases it with some harsh words and a blow to the rock.

God’s response to Moses appears to be self-explanatory.  Moses showed lack of belief in God by hitting the rock rather than talking to it.  However, our commentators suggest numerous possibilities as to how Moses showed lack of belief.

Rashbam, who lived in 12^th century France and was the grandson of Rashi, states that Moses misunderstood God.  Rashbam asserted that since God said “take the rod” before he said “talk to the rock,” Moses thought he should take the rod in order to hit the rock, like he had done in Exodus 17.  He got the first part of the command correct, by taking the rod, but erred in the second part, hitting the rock instead of talking to it.[7]

Ibn Ezra, who lived in 12^th century Spain and Italy, said the sin was that Moses hit the rock twice.[8]  He explains that the first time Moses hit the rock, water did not come out, so he therefore hit it a second time.  In doing so, Moses did not sanctify God, as it appeared to the Israelites that God could not bring water out of the rock.  It also indicates that God gave Moses a second chance, as when he saw that the water was not coming out, it was a reminder that he should talk to the rock rather than hit it.  Instead, Moses hit the rock a second time.

Most compelling to me is the comment of Rabbenu Hananel, who lived in 10^th century North Africa.  Rabbenu Hananel says that the key mistake that Moses made was saying to the Israelites “shall WE bring forth water from this rock?”[9]  Moses neglected to mention G-d, the creator of the rock and the one who was going to bring forth the miracle.  Moses reduced the rock to an inanimate object which can do nothing without human intervention rather than acknowledging God as the one who will bring forth water from the rock.  Thus, the sin for Rabbenu Hananel is more than Moses not believing in God-it is his lack of sanctification of God as the one who sustains humanity with water.

These rabbinic teachings demonstrate multiple angles through which Moses fell short in striking the rock.  They range from not getting exactly correct what God was commanding to leaving God out of the picture altogether.  Each of them, however, can teach us something about how we relate to others.  Rashbam’s comment teaches us the importance of listening carefully to what someone else is requesting of you.  We cannot just listen to the first part of a request and tune out the rest, figuring that we know what to do, like Moses did by taking the rod and assuming he was supposed to hit the rock like before.  Rather, we need to actively listen to the entire request, just as Moses should have listened to the entire command from God.

Ibn Ezra’s comment demonstrates that when something does not go right to take a step back and figure out what went wrong.  When Moses hit the rock the first time and nothing came out, he should have realized he was making a mistake and paused.  He could have then changed his approach and talked to the rock.  Similarly, when we do something which does not seem right, we have an opportunity to take a step back and figure out how to change it.

Rabbenu Hananel’s comment teaches us the most important lesson: give credit where it is due.  If Moses had given credit to God as the one who brought forth water, rather than claiming that Aaron and he were doing so, the end result would have been different.  Similarly, if we remember to acknowledge all the people who have helped us finish a project or put together an event, we will be acting properly.

This week’s Torah portion teaches us the difficulties Moses faced being a leader, especially after his sister died and the people complained about a lack of water.  First we see the impact Miriam made as the sustainer of the Israelites with water.  Then, after her death, we see the difficulty of keeping one’s cool under intense pressure, like that which Moses experienced with the Israelites’ complaint.  In addition, we have examined three possible mistakes that Moses made during this stressful time and seen ways to avoid their occurrence in our own lives.  The beauty of seeing three rabbinic answers to the question of what was Moses’ mistake is that we see Moses’ actions from a variety of perspectives.  We can also see the rabbis’ attempt to humanize Moses, to admit that while he was our leader par excellence, he made a mistake.  May this Shabbat be an opportunity to reflect on our humanity, how like Moses we posses great qualities, yet we also fall short at times.  May we also learn from our mistakes and use them to help our personal development.  Ken yhi ratzon, may it be our will to do so.

[1] Numbers 20:1

[2] Numbers 20:3

[3] Numbers 20:10

[4] Numbers 20:11

[5] Numbers 20:12

[6] Ibn Ezra Numbers 20:10 ד”ה שמעו נא המורים

[7] Rashbam on Numbers 20:10 ד”ה המן הסלע הזה נוציא לכם מים

[8] Ibn Ezra on Numbers 20:11 ד”ה פעמים

[9] Rabbenu Hananel on Numbers 20:10 ד”ה שמעו נא המורים

I hope everyone is having a Hodesh Tov, a good start to the month of  Tamuz.  Tamuz is a tricky month. On one hand it is the transition from spring to summer, and many are getting ready to go away on vacation. On the other hand it is the month in which the Romans breached the Jerusalem city walls on the way to the destruction of the Temple. As a result we engage in a period of mourning leading up to Tisha B’Av and the destruction of the Temple.

Following a lunar calendar, the appearance of a new moon was a cause for celebration in biblical times.  The shofar was blown, Hallel (the prayer praising G-d’s name) was recited and a celebratory meal was eaten.  Because the proclamation of a new moon affected the calendar (especially regarding the festival days on which no work could be performed), great care was taken in ensuring the exact date that the moon was cited.  Two witnesses were needed to see the moon and report to the head of the rabbinical court.  Declaring the new moon was also an act of power that could be exacted by the head of the Sanhedrin, or rabbinic court.

In Tractate Rosh Hashanah[1] two witnesses tell Rabban Gamliel, the head (nasi) of the Sanhedrin that they did not see the new moon.  Despite their testimony, Rabban Gamliel declared it to be Rosh Hodesh.  Rabbi Joshua, the 2^nd in command, disagreed publicly with Gamliel, implying that it was not yet Rosh Hodesh.  The implication is that Joshua’s calendar would be different than Gamliel’s.  Gamliel then commanded Joshua to come with his staff and money pouch on the day that would be Yom Kippur according to Joshua’s calendar, having him violate the festival.  Joshua obeyed, thus giving in to Gamliel’s calendar.  Clearly, when Rosh Hodesh was declared had tremendous power in determining the calendar.

While Rosh Hodesh had tremendous implications in the rabbinic era, what importance does the festival have to us today?  We no longer rely on witnesses to establish our months, determining the new moon instead by arithmetic calculation.  While the proclamation of a new moon is not as magnanimous event for us as it was in the rabbinic period, it can still have tremendous implications in our lives.  It is a chance to acknowledge ending one period of time and entering another.  Today is actually the 30^th day of the month of Sivan, symbolizing leaving that month and reflecting upon its significance as we get prepared to begin a new month, a new era.

The new moon also gives us an opportunity to acknowledge G-d’s awesome power in creation.  We sing Hallel, as we did this morning, to praise G-d’s role in creating the natural world and an aspect of that is establishing the cycle of the moon.  Celebrating the new moon gives us a reason to rejoice and connect to our fellow Jews, especially during the large spans of time when there are no major holidays. We do not need to wait until Rosh Hashanah for a new beginning-rather each month provides us a chance to renew our spirits and reminds us of the changing seasons that G-d has established.

In addition, we embrace the New Moon is through an existing yet little-known ceremony called Kiddush Levanah towards the beginning of every month (which if you remind me we will do next Saturday night).  In this ceremony, one gazes upon the new moon, blesses it, and extends his/her feet heavenward, as if he/she could touch it.  This ceremony is generally done with at least 3 people so that they can greet one another upon seeing the new moon (Shalom Aleichem and Aleichem Shalom), and it is done outside in full view of the moon.  It has the potential to be a spiritual moment through recognizing the beauty of G-d’s creation.

Finally, Rosh Hodesh has regained focus as a holiday of celebration, especially among women.  The tradition according to Midrash is that G-d gave Rosh Hodesh to women to celebrate as a result of their refusing to give their golden jewelry for the construction of the golden calf.  In rabbinic times, women were exempt from doing laundry, sewing and weaving on Rosh Hodesh, what was known as “women’s work!” instead celebrating the day with their families.

Beginning in the 1970s, feminist circles began reclaiming Rosh Hodesh through developing rituals such as lighting candles in pools of water, sharing stories, singing together and comforting one another.  Women’s Rosh Hodesh ceremonies can be found in many communities.  These ceremonies focus on the importance of renewing oneself just as the moon is renewed and on the connection between the monthly cycle of the moon and women’s’ monthly cycle. Some communities even have a Rosh Hodesh: It’s a Girls Thing program, a five year curriculum for girls in Grades 6-10 to work with a mentor on issues connected to womanhood and adolescence.

We have two exceptional women who we are celebrating today on Rosh Hodesh. These women have stepped outside their comfort zone to become the leaders of our congregation. They have often been present in the synagogue office as an unpaid, full-time job. It’s not easy to take on the mantle of Presidency, which is why our congregation is often scrambling to find a new leader, yet these women took over the position with grace, dedication and a love for our congregation. They also did something unique in becoming co-presidents, each taking on different portfolios related to our congregation. Your accomplishments include (among others) bringing in a STEM Preschool, getting a CofO established on our building, revitalizing our Keter Torah program and creating an Office Manager position.  You have set the bar high and demonstrated what it means to be caring, devoted and hard-working leaders in serving our congregation and the Jewish people.

This has not been an easy year for either Martha and Diane as both of you have suffered personal losses. We mourn your loved ones who have passed on and we remark on how despite going through these great difficulties, your efforts to strengthen our congregation continued unabated. We are so fortunate that you will be continuing as dedicated congregants. Diane will be devoted to our Partners in Caring program, one component of which is getting Friendly Visitors to see congregants who are home-bound; and Martha I’m sure will continue to be involved in the financial aspects of the congregation.

Mazal Tov, Diane and Martha, on this special, well-deserved day. On behalf of the congregation, it is my pleasure to present you with a very special gift: Kiddush cups with a beautiful-feminine figure as part of the base. We hope you will use them every Friday night. Thank you to Barbara Rosenblum for choosing such a fitting gift for our Presidents. To celebrate this milestone, let us turn to Page 825 and read responsively.

[1] Rosh Hashanah Chapter 2 Mishnayot 8-9

         At times in life we all have to do things for ourselves, as opposed to for others. Even if others tell us not to do so, we feel that something is the right thing to do. G-d told Moses to send for himself men to scout out the land. Why does it need to say לך, “for yourself”? The general answer given is that G-d did not need to have men sent out for he knew the land was good. Moses, on the other hand, needed to have people go for himself, to give proof that the land was good.

Ephraim of Luntshitz wrote in his book Kli Yakar four reasons for the word לך. The first is for his good and his benefit. The Israelites said to Moses “send out before us men to search out the land,”[1] and Moses did as they requested. It will not be for the people’s benefit, as based on their report they will die; rather it will be in Moses’ benefit as he will live an additional 40 years.

The second reason given by Kli Yakar is that G-d wanted Moses to see that people can be deceitful, that they flatter you when in reality disguising themselves for purposes of falsehood. Moses thought the spies were important, reputable people, but their inner nature did not match their outer appearance (אין תוכם כברם), as we learned from their reports.

The third interpretation by Kli Yakar is that in that moment they were righteous people who did the right thing, but in the future it would not be the case. G-d can see people’s actions in the future and knew that they would give bad advice. That’s why Moses had to select the people, ones who in his eyes were leaders but in G-d’s eyes would turn the people astray at the first sign of adversity.

The fourth interpretation is to me the most interesting: Kli Yakar wrote that it specifies the word אנשים, men, as opposed to נשים, women. The men in reality did not like the land of Israel and were the ones who said “let us return to Egypt.”[2] The women, on the other hand, were endeared towards Israel, as in the case of Zelophehad’s daughters who said “give us an inheritance (in the land).”[3] G-d wanted Moses to see that it would have been better to send out women who are endeared to the land of Israel. Moses, in contrast, thought that these men would be drawn to the land of Israel, rather than so quickly attempt an about-face towards Egypt.[4]

This text is used to demonstrate the importance of 10 people for a minyan. Because these 10 men did not have faith in G-d leading our ancestors to conquer the land of Israel, 10 are needed to declare praise of G-d three times a day. Moses thought that sending the spies would be an affirmation of their faith in G-d and their belief that they could conquer the land of Canaan. Instead, to his surprise, he found that 5/6^th of the spies did not believe that they would prevail. Through this, G-d demonstrated to him that this generation was not ready to enter the Promised Land of Israel, as to engage in battles for the land would require great confidence and faith in oneself, in one’s people and in one’s G-d. Moses needed to learn this lesson for himself.

Being married requires a great deal of faith as we navigate life’s challenges. As I am only married for 3 years, I cannot imagine what it would be like to be married for 66 years like Larry and Lorraine. It must have taken faith in one another and a transcendent love to navigate all the vicissitudes on life’s roller coaster. I’m so happy that you chose to celebrate the affirmation of your love and the years of bliss you’ve share together with us this morning at the JJC.

Larry and Lorraine exemplify for us having faith in why we are here and our ability to transcend any obstacle that we face. Let us learn from their example of commitment and dedication. Often the summer is an excellent time to recharge and prepare for the coming year. In doing so, let us do all that we can to affirm our faith that we will have the wisdom and foresight to meet whatever crosses our path. We wish Lorraine and Larry Mazal Tov for their years of companionship and only good things to come.

[1] Deuteronomy 1:22

[2] Numbers 14:4

[3] Numbers 27:4

[4] Kli Yakar on Numbers 14:2 ד”ה שלח לך אנשים

Little of this strange land did she understand

Except the need to glean and gather grain within her hand.

Little of strange language did she comprehend.

A foreigner and widow, her lot was just to bend

And garner enough sustenance for her and for one other.

Thus, Ruth endured and cared for her husband’s aged mother.

Her skin deep burnt by blaze of sun, her garments flecked with grain,

Ruth labored dawn till sunset-in heat of day, in rain.

She, often, knew discouragement but vowed she would remain

Within this place of one God-her faith would strong sustain.

And, often, she knew loneliness-still, she felt gratitude

For love shared with Naomi, for shelter and for food.

She looked beyond her circumstance to view all life as blessed-

How should she dream she, one day soon, would know great happiness-

How should she dream she soon would cradle child unto her breast.

Lucille Frenkel Shavuot 5738 (1978)[1]

You never know how you are touched in life by the smallest thing. I wrote this sermon after a March where I felt depression about my grandmother’s passing. It hit after Shiva and stayed with me throughout the month. Depression according to the Baal Shem Tov is the greatest sin-how much more so during the month of Adar when one is commanded to only feel joy. At the same time, while you can work on changing your mentality and making the most out of each and every day, you can never completely control what you feel. My friend Marty said last year that “the thing that makes depression so hard to fight is that depression destroys your will to fight.” I knew that I needed to change for my wife and daughter but I didn’t know how.

When you know your world will never be the same what snaps you out of this feeling of helplessness? What give you hope again for the future? I can only speak from personal experience and say that my Uncle Dan sending me one of my grandmother’s new poems was the impetus for me. I shared the poem entitled “Our Precious Heritage: Respecting Truths Our Ancestors Gifted to Us” at the April board meeting. After reading it I instantly knew that I wanted to write my Shavuot sermon in my grandmother’s memory. Her Shavuot poem about Ruth made me think deeply about how much faith Ruth had to have. She just lost her husband and had no children. As a single individual, the sensible thing to do would have been to return to her native Moav. Yet Ruth knew she could not abandon her mother-in-law Naomi, despite Naomi’s encouragement for her to do so. Instead she made a vow: “Your people shall be my people and your G-d shall be my G-d.”[2] She chose a much harder life unaware of what the future would bring. I’m sure that Ruth gleaning under the sweltering Israel sun had no conception that she would meet and marry a kinsman and become the great-grandmother of King David.

I know that my grandmother would have wanted me to carry on. She loved living so much and strove to do her best each and every day. I remember when I felt like leaving rabbinical school and she told me “You’re not a quitter.” She always gave me the strength and fortitude to continue on no matter what challenges I had. My grandmother was always the first person I called for advice, up at 4:30 each morning. She valued raising a family so much and giving her entirety to the next generation. One of my reasons for wanting to have a child so quickly was to make her a great-grandmother so that she could see the fulfillment of her values in the next generation. She never had it easy but like Ruth she kept her faith and integrity in what she believed.

There’s another side of Ruth that I’d like to share, which I found in my wife Karina. We had been dating for less than 2 months when I found out that my position as Assistant Rabbi at Congregation Anshei Israel was eliminated. I drove to Karina’s apartment, tears streaming down my face, and told her. I said “I’m going to need to move, and you didn’t sign up for this.” I’ll never forget her response as she hugged me. She said, “I didn’t sign up for this; I chose it.” I knew then that this was the woman I was going to marry. Like Ruth, Karina could have chosen the path of least resistance, to run away. Certainly women I had dated before chose to do so for far lesser reasons. Instead, she chose to stay by my side as I went through a time of uncertainty. Who would have dreamed at that point that we’d have a beautiful daughter and puppy and have found such a warm, loving and generous congregation as the Jericho Jewish Center?

As we remember those who are no longer in our midst, it can be very easy to feel depression or melancholy. After all, these people shaped who we are and our lives have deep voids without their physical presence. At the same time, we are grateful for how they have made our lives all the richer and for all the blessings they imparted in us by how they lived. We remember them with a wellspring of emotions and we live each day knowing that they would be proud of who we have become and of how we live our lives.

This is another of my grandmother’s poems about Ruth, entitled “Ruth at the Burial of Naomi.”

The tears well up within Ruth’s eyes.

She must admit this open grave,

The fact of Naomi’s demise.

She, who would not live separate

From her in life, must now accept

That death, that such is each man’s fate.

And now Ruth weeps with painswept tears

Recalling all their past shared years.

And she shall miss Naomi’s love.

And she shall miss Naomi’s voice.

She chose to follow in her steps

And never did regret that choice.

Ruth wonders how she shall live on-

Then sees the face of her own son.

She views in his life patterning.

She sees in his life’s flowering

An echo of Naomi’s being.

Ruth would not have him fear of death

Nor question preciousness of breath

She would not have her tears defile

His faith in life. Ruth prays for strength,

And with a love which conquers grief,

Through tears, she manages a smile.[3]

[1] Lucille Frenkel, A Biblical Adventure Milwaukee: The Eternity Press, 1980), p. 138

[2] Ruth 1:16

[3] Lucille Frenkel, A Biblical Adventure Milwaukee: The Eternity Press, 1980), p. 147.

Think back to when you had to learn formulas and equations in school. Did you find this learning meaningful or was it just boring, rote memorization? Is there anything to be gained from the learning and recitation of statements?

The sole example of a biblical formula recited by someone occurred on Shavuot. In Parshat Ki Tavo, it lists that when the Israelites enter the Promised Land, they should take their first fruits and give them to the Kohen to offer to G-d. They should then recite a formula which begins הִגַּדְתִּי הַיּוֹם לַיהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, כִּי-בָאתִי אֶל-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהוָה לַאֲבֹתֵינוּ לָתֶת לָנוּ. ‘I profess this day unto the LORD your God, that I am come unto the land which the LORD swore unto our fathers to give us.’ [1]

The formula continues with a passage very familiar to us from the Passover Haggadah: אֲרַמִּי אֹבֵד אָבִי, וַיֵּרֶד מִצְרַיְמָה, וַיָּגָר שָׁם בִּמְתֵי מְעָט; וַיְהִי-שָׁם, לְגוֹי גָּדוֹל עָצוּם וָרָב., “My father was a wandering Aramean who sojourned down to Egypt and lived down there few in number and there became a great, numerous nation.”[2] The formula recited goes on to discuss our suffering under slavery, how G-d saved us and then how G-d brought us into the land of Israel “וַיְבִאֵנוּ, אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה; וַיִּתֶּן-לָנוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ.” “And G-d brought us to this place and he gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”[3] Now that we are in Israel the person bringing the fruit should joyously proclaim “וְעַתָּה, הִנֵּה הֵבֵאתִי אֶת-רֵאשִׁית פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה, אֲשֶׁר-נָתַתָּה לִּי, יְהוָה; וְהִנַּחְתּוֹ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, וְהִשְׁתַּחֲוִיתָ, לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ.” “And now I have brought my first fruits which G-d has given me,”[4] setting it down before G-d and prostrating oneself before G-d.

I imagine our ancestors waiting with bated breath for the opportunity to reach Israel, arrive at the Temple in Jerusalem, recite these words before G-d and then give up something which is theirs for the Kohen, G-d’s emissary, to consume. Mishnah Bikkurim teaches that our ancestors would hold the barrel of fruit on their shoulders during their pilgrimage to the Temple. Upon arrival before the Kohen, they would lower it from their shoulders to literally bite on its handle. The Kohen would place his hand under the basket and lift it up, thus symbolizing his taking over ownership of the basket.[5]

What relevance does this have for us today? We do not live in Israel, nor do we offer fruit as a sacrifice of gratitude before G-d. However, what we continue to do is to look for ways to demonstrate our appreciation for all that we have. We recognize the humble beginnings of our parents and grandparents who came before us, many of whom were immigrants to the United States and who sacrificed so much of themselves so that we have what we have today. Similarly, our ancestors endured the hardships of crossing through the desert in order to give this generation the opportunity to worship G-d in the Land of Israel.

Shavuot is an additional time to appreciate our bounty: that we are Jewish, that we have been given the Torah and that we have found so much blessing in the land in which we live. We should never take this for granted, recognizing instead the great cost and sacrifices it took for us to reach where we are today. A ritual like the First Fruits, though it has fallen into desuetude, is yet another example of showing gratitude and graciousness for all that we have. I hope that we find in our daily lives opportunities to make room for rituals like it, having moments of consciousness for all of our blessings. Ken Yhi Ratzon, may it be our will to do so.

[1] Deuteronomy 26:3

[2] Deuteronomy 26:5

[3] Deuteronomy 26:9

[4] Deuteronomy 26:10

[5] Mishnah Bikkurim 3:6

We have now reached the series of Torah portions that is a mathematician’s dream. After all, this section of the Torah is called Numbers! In Parshat B’midbar, a census is taken of the Israelite men of military age who would later conquer the Land of Canaan. The total count of these men numbers 603,550. However, each tribe was listed individually. Why did the Torah choose to enumerate the exact number of men in each tribe when it could have just as easily given the total?

One interpretation is that listing by tribe indicates the military prowess present in each tribe, demonstrating how many men it could contribute to battle. Another is that it demonstrates the specificity with which the census was done. Just listing a total number of Israelites, especially one of over 600,000 males could imply that people were missed, as opposed to showing how many were in each tribe. The interpretation that I prefer is that the listing of the tribes indicates that each one contributed to the development of the Israelite nation. What was important was not the total sum but rather the contributions of each of the individuals who comprised that total. While B’midbar only speaks about men, every man represented so many other people: the elders who could not fight and the wives and children who supported him. The tribe with the most men, Judah, did not count for any more than the tribe with the fewest men, Manasseh. Rather, each tribe was viewed as necessary and was valued for its contributions to the conquest and settlement of Canaan.

There is a valuable lesson here: just as each tribe was individually valued, so too is each individual valued for what he or she contributes to our community. Rather than just looking at the final outcome, we can take a step back and pride ourselves on the work that it took to reach that point. This is a precious lesson for us to recognize now when we are on the cusp of Shavuot, the holiday on which we renew our receipt of the Torah each and every year. Each evening for seven entire weeks we have been counting up to this moment, reliving our ancestors’ journey out of Egyptian slavery and to Mount Sinai. Now we are finally reaching the moment where the counting is complete.

At the Jericho Jewish Center we recognize that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, that we are worth far more as a congregation than the number of members we have. Everyone here is valued as an individual, rather than as a number, and each of us has a role to play in the strengthening of our congregation. We each should receive recognition for who we are and for all that we do in making our congregation the warm, welcoming place that it is. This year I have seen so much resiliency and strength in leading services, planning programs and welcoming members. Let me especially thank Martha and Diane, our outgoing Presidents, the entire Executive Board and Board of Trustees, everyone who attends minyan and Shabbat services and all our program and committee chairs for all you do for our congregation. You are leading by example and showing that we are a congregation where everyone counts and at which everyone is valued.

Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom and a Hag Matan Torateinu Sameach.

Under which circumstances do you most often hear G-d’s name mentioned? What emotions go along with the person saying G-d’s name?  What do you think of when you hear G-d’s name mentioned in that setting?

Most think of sanctifications of G-d’s name (קדוש ה). At the end of today’s Torah portion, however, there is a negative usage of G-d’s name (חלול ה).  A story is told of a fight between a man who was half-Israelite, half-Egyptian with a man who was fully Israelite.  The man who was half-Israelite cursed his fellow with G-d’s name, and G-d told Moses to have the Israelites take him outside their camp and stone him.  This became the source for killing someone who blasphemes, violating the 3^rd commandment by taking G-d’s name in vain.

This story is peculiar to me for several reasons.  Why is the man not given a name?  We are told his mother’s name is Shelomit, that she is daughter of Dibri and that they are of the tribe of Dan, but we are not told this man’s name.  As the Bible is a book that loves genealogy, often telling us people’s names in list form without elaborating on them, it is unusual that we have an example of an unnamed individual.  Also, why does it make a difference that this man is half-Israelite, half-Egyptian?  One could argue that he was of lesser status, since his mother was an Israelite and father was an Egyptian, and in biblical times patrilineal descent was the standard of one’s ethnicity, yet I still see it as strange for the text to mention this man’s parentage twice without giving him a name.[1]

The commentators have a field day posing answers to these questions.  Rashi states that the man’s Egyptian father was the Egyptian who Moses killed because he was oppressing an Israelite.  He says that he converted to Judaism, as the text says that he was “within the children of Israel.”  He also asserts that the man’s mother, Shelomit, was a harlot, which alludes to earlier in the Torah portion, where it says “You shall not marry a woman defiled by harlotry.”  Furthermore, he states that Shelomit was a chatterer, seen by her being the daughter of Dibri, as the word Daber means to speak.  Shelomit’s excess chatter led to her ruin, as we see through her son’s behavior and eventual stoning.  This follows a common pattern of Rashi using Midrash to both recycle biblical characters (the father of this man is the Egyptian that Moses killed) and to make sinners into people with bad lineage.

Ibn Ezra, instead of focusing on this man’s genealogy, centers on the word for curse, yikov.  This is not the common word for curse in the Bible, and Ibn Ezra, who was a grammarian, points out that this word can also mean “to pronounce,” which he believes is its correct use here.  This would mean that the man’s sin is not to curse in G-d’s name but saying G-d’s name, specifically the Tetragrammaton.[2]

Ibn Ezra’s interpretation of the word yikov as “pronounce” rather than “curse” is probably more accurate, as that is how it is used more times in the Torah.  Nevertheless, the implications of this are frightening: simply saying G-d’s name could be grounds for death.  It is also problematic, albeit less so, to say that one is liable for death if he/she curses in the name of G-d, as in a fit of anger it is easy to say “G-d d— it” even though one generally does not mean that G-d should curse.  The rabbis of the Talmud were also bothered by this, and in the 7^th chapter of Sanhedrin they sought to limit the applicability of one being killed for cursing in G-d’s name.  They said that one needs to be witnessed by two witnesses and that he/she has to say a specific formula: “May G-d smite G-d.”  Such a formula is not likely to be said (as it is much more likely to say “May G-d smite you”) and may have been used to combat Gnostics, who believed in multiple parts of G-d that could be in opposition to one another.  Talmudic rabbis often limit cases, like this one of blaspheming, in order to minimize situations where one would need to be punished.

As we read Parshat Emor, let us think about the situations in which we say G-d’s name, or a variation of it, like “gosh.”  Do we generally say G-d’s name when we are happy, “Thank you G-d!” when we are surprised, “Oh my G-d” or when we are angry “G-d d— it!”  How can we ensure that we use G-d’s name in positive contexts rather than for a negative outburst or a curse?  G-d represents what is special and sacred about the world, and I therefore want to be sure to use G-d’s name to highlight the awe and reverence that I have.  At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that we are human and will likely use G-d’s name in an outburst of anger.  Doing so is not the same as the man who cursed in the Bible, as he specifically used G-d’s sacred name, the Tetragrammaton, which we no longer know how to pronounce.  It is also paramount to recognize that at times we might not see G-d in a positive light, or we might question G-d’s existence, both of which are different from using G-d’s name for a negative or destructive purpose.  May these days leading up to Shavuot be times of thinking about how we view G-d’s name in whatever form we conceptualize G-d: Adonai (lord), Elohim (judge), Shadai (almighty), Shechinah (the feminine presence of G-d which dwells amongst us) or simply as G-d, and may our contemplation of G-d bring us closer to the divine.

[1] After this man blasphemes he is brought before Moses, but Moses waits for G-d to give him the man’s verdict.  There are only a few times in the Bible where Moses does not directly tell the Israelites what to do, others being when the daughters of Zelopehad come before him to ask for land and when the man who violates Shabbat by carrying sticks is caught.

[2] Jews had such a great fear of the wrong person pronouncing the Tetragrammaton and angering G-d that it became only pronounced by the High Priest at the Temple.  After the Temple’s destruction, that name became forgotten and was replaced by Adonai, meaning “the LORD.”  Over time Adonai, the term substituted for the Tetragrammaton, became a sacred name in and of itself, which is why some Jews today will not refer to G-d as Adonai but as Hashem, “the name.”

 

Many of the laws about tzaraat, or “scale disease,” deal with the isolation of an individual who has contracted it. Why would such a person need to be separated from the community? Was there something contagious about the disease? It appears from the text that the contagion was not physical but rather spiritual.

In looking at the Torah portion, we see that one who has contracted tzaraat (כל אשר הנגע בו) becomes impure (טמא יטמא) and must isolate himself from the entire Israelite community (בדד ישב מחוץ למחנה מושבו). [1] The rabbis teach that מצורע is a shorthand for מוציא שם רע, evil speech. The individual thus needs to be isolated because the gossip which he spread is contagious. However, why isolate him not only from the Israelite community but also from anyone else who is impure? Rashi points out that evil speech begins on a one-on-one level, בין איש לאשתו, בין איש לרעהו.[2] Therefore the offender must be isolated so that s/he does not continue to perpetuate the sin of evil speech.

Professor Nehama Leibowitz takes note of this in her book Studies in VaYikra where she comments that “the plague teaches us that society should take notice of the first sign of misconduct, however small. Just the same as a disease begins with hardly noticeable symptoms and can be stopped if detected in time, so a moral disease in society can be prevented from spreading if immediate steps are taken. Otherwise it will spread throughout the community.”[3] One piece of gossip can tear a community apart, whereas one act of kindness can build bridges unforeseen before.

Let us relate this to next week’s maxim, “ואהבת לרעך כמוך,” which translates to “And you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”[4] Rabbi Akiva asserted זה כלל גדול בתורה, this is the great maxim in the Torah. What makes this so great, and how is it even feasible to do this? Rabbi Shalom Noach Borozovsky wrote in his book Netivot Shalom, כך אמר להם הקב”ה לישראל, בני אהובי, כלום חסרתי דבר שאבקש מכם, ומה אני אבקש מכם, אלא שתהיו אובהין זה את זה ותהיו מכבדין זה את זה, “G-d said to Israel, ‘the only thing I request from you is that you love one another and honor each other.”[5]  Loving your neighbor builds community-gossiping about him/her tears it apart.

Our task is further reflected in Ramban (Nahmanides)’s statement on this verse. He asserts that the Torah commands us to love our fellow in all matters by wanting only good things to happen to him/her, like we want only good things to happen for ourselves.   We should strive to want the best for those around us.[6] Often gossip emanates from jealousy or personal insecurity, whereas confidence and security in oneself can lead to wanting only good for others as well.

When we have the temptation to gossip or to deman others, let us instead turn away from this temptation, as once we engage it is all the more difficult to turn back. Similarly, when we hear the words ואהבת כמוך לרעך in next week’s Torah reading, let us reflect on what we can do to advocate for those around us and to show them genuine affection. Let us also strive to be happy for what they have, even when they have something that we wish we had.  By embracing those in our community and in our congregation with warmth and love and genuinely being happy for them with all of their successes, we will affirm our קהילה קדושה, our holy community, and we will steer clear of gossip and resentment and truly fulfill the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves.

[1] Leviticus 13:46

[2] Rashi on Leviticus 13:44 ד”ה בדד ישב

[3] Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in VaYikra p. 137-18.

[4] Leviticus 19:18

[5] Netivot Shalom, Tazria, page 61.

[6] Ramban on Leviticus 19:18