We have come a long way as a congregation over the course of our 60 years. From modest beginnings in someone’s home, to the groundbreaking on this building in 1960, to the expansion of our building in 1973 to the renovations of the sanctuary and the downstairs, we have certainly taken great pride in our house of worship. Most congregations of 60 years have gone through great changes yet we have remained relatively stable, with 3 rabbis and 2 cantors over that time. Our Religious School has received the designation Framework of Excellence from the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, and our Nursery School is entering an exciting new venture as a STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) school. It is very fitting that we celebrate this momentous anniversary.

In our tradition, 60 is the halfway point between birth and death. It’s a time for evaluation of where we’ve come and where we want to be headed during our next 60 years. What do we want the Jericho Jewish Center to look like for our children and grandchildren? How will we shape our synagogue to continue to be a center of spiritual relevance, a place where people come to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, bar/bat mitzvot and weddings, transitions into retirement and adult b’nai mitzvot?

It’s no accident that we chose to celebrate our anniversary tomorrow, on Yom Yerushalayim. The ability to return to our holy sites is something those two generations back could not have fathomed. As the psalmist said, this return to our historic homeland and our holiest city felt as if we were dreaming.[1] I think of the paratroopers, many of whom were secular, weeping beside the Kotel, feeling something spiritual inside them welling up as they returned to the place where their ancestors lived 2000 years prior. How wonderful that we will be able to celebrate our own accomplishments and achievements as a congregation on this same date.

It is so special to have those who grew up at the Jericho Jewish Center and who have become successes in their own rite, Billy Stein and Melissa Hartman, returning to their roots to sing alongside Cantors Barry Black and Israel Goldstein. There’s something truly special about this merger of our past with our present, combining joyous memories from times long ago with our vibrancy as a congregation today.

In this week’s Torah reading, we conclude the Holiness Code, the model for how we are supposed to conduct ourselves as Jews. As the opening line of the portion states, through following G-d’s laws and observing His commandments, we will have everything that we need, not requiring anything else. We need halacha, the corpus of Jewish law, in order to guide our decisions. Halacha is also connected to halicha, the path in which we walk in life. Those who came before us set us on a good path, one which valued tradition and precedent yet also gave us the opportunity to try new things and continue to blaze our trail forward.

My vision for JJC is that we will continue to value both tradition and change, being a community of communities; that our services will both speak to our regulars but that we will also have offerings for those who are joining our ranks, such as alternative Friday night and Shabbat morning family services. In an age with numerous extracurriculars and diversions, it is challenging to get people to join a congregation, all the more so to participate in its events. I take great pride in hearing when congregants rearrange their schedules to come to our Friday Night Live services or when they commit to attending 7 evening sessions in our Sulam for Emerging Leaders program and follow through on it. This tells me that people feel that JJC is a second home to them, that they are proud to be members here and want to engage with us on a regular basis. This can only be done through tapping into who people are and what they value and providing those services at JJC. It takes a lot of hard work, and we are starting to see the payoff. My favorite activities that we do are those which are led by the initiative, foresight and hard work of our members, such as Sherwin and Hanit bringing the Israeli musician Idan Raichel to JJC, Steve Wishner teaching us how to brew beer with Hops and Halacha or Jill Guttman teaching us how to make mandel bread. Through getting at the core of what motivates people, we succeed in capitalizing on it and making them active members of JJC who care about our congregation and strive to make it successful. Too often we think solely of numbers, not recognizing that the quality and ingenuity of our membership supersedes the quantity.

I would imagine that if our founding members were here looking at the Jericho Jewish Center, they would recognize aspects of our congregation but not others. However, they would take immense pride in seeing from where we’ve come and that we are doing our best to provide a strong house of worship for generations yet to come. I’d like to think that they would understand that though certain things look different than they’re accustomed to, we need to continue to adapt to modern realities-in Mordechai Waxman’s words, we need to engage in both tradition and change.

Similarly, we have no idea what the Jericho Jewish Center will look like 60 years from now. I’m sure some aspects of it would surprise us but we’d understand that those who follow us are doing their best to meet the Jewish needs of their generation, creating a strong, compelling house of worship in an age where all are Jews by choice.

Thank you for being members of the Jericho Jewish Center, whether for 1 year, for 60 or somewhere in between, for believing in our congregation and for continuing to support it over the years. I’m sure you have seen a great deal of changes but one thing that has not changed is your devotion and dedication to your congregational family. Tomorrow we will present each member with a certificate honoring you for your commitment to our House of Worship. For today I will simply say, Thank You for your support and for all that you do to strengthen our congregation.

[1] Based off Psalm 137

We all know the importance of personally resting, to “recharge our batteries” and come back even stronger. However, our tradition maintains that it is of equal importance to rest our land, so much so that if Israel does not obey the Sabbatical year, its lands and cities will be destroyed. We have the ironic statement אז תרצה הארץ את שבתותיה “Then the land will have its sabbatical rest.”[1] In other words, if you don’t rest the land, you will be exiled from it, and I will force it to rest after the fact.

Rashi demonstrates that this is actually a kindness done to Israel, that Israel’s enemies will not be able to find satisfaction or bear fruit from the desolate land that they conquer.[2] I’m not sure how much of a kindness it is to be exiled from one’s land, even knowing that no one else will benefit from your hard work. Rashi also comments that Israel is exiled for 70 years corresponding to the 70 cycles of sabbatical and jubilee years that had been neglected.[3] This is a classic example of מידה כנגד מידה, measure for measure, that Israel is being punished exactly in the manner in which it sinned.

Why the emphasis on resting the land? Some have argued for the importance of crop rotation in not wearing out the soil, yet that is not the central reason for the land’s rest. It is also not to relinquish ownership through selling the land to a non-Jew. Rather, it is to remember that the land comes from a Higher Power and is not exclusively yours. This becomes even clearer through examining a verse in our portion, Behar. G-d implores Moses to tell Israel that “even crops that grew on their own from the seeds of the previous harvest you shall not reap, and the grapes of your untended vines you shall not gather.”[4] What happens to these crops? Are they left to rot in the fields? Not so, says Rashi, who comments on this verse “they shall be ownerless-free to all.”[5]

It becomes clear that the land is rested not for its own benefit but to teach us that ultimately the land does not belong to us but to G-d. There’s a great lesson here in our responsibility to safeguard the land. We cannot abuse it, working it to death to produce more crops for more money or growing on it as we please because it’s “ours.” Rather, we need to engage in a period of safeguarding the land, resting it so that it will bear fruit in future years and understanding with great humility that our land, just like everything in this world, is not exclusively ours to do with as we please. There is only one Owner of the land, and that is G-d. Our homes and all that they contain, our trees, our plants and our soil are not ours but rather ultimately G-d’s. Rather than trying to vastly increase our possessions, we need to take time once every seven years to remember the true Owner and to enable all of His creations to take from the land. We came into this world with nothing and we will leave it with nothing, while G-d remains eternal.

In studying the Laws of Conversion, I was amazed to discover that the specific laws mentioned for one to teach the convert center on the land and social justice. One must teach the proselyte that s/he cannot harvest the corners of his/her fields, instead leaving these for the poor. They are also instructed about the forgotten sheaf, which s/he cannot go back to get but rather must leave it for the poor. In addition, the prospective convert must learn about gleanings which fall from one’s arms during the harvest and which must be left on the ground for the poor. Why teach these commandments in particular? It is to demonstrate that we have a responsibility to look out for our fellow Jews (and I would add fellow humans) and make sure they have the necessities of life. A more direct way to do so is to proclaim that once every seven years your land is not your own-rather what grows on it is הפקר, available to everyone.

As we live comfortable lives in the suburbs, continuing to acquire more and more possessions, let us take moments when we do not seek to acquire more but are satisfied with the bounty that we have. May we also actively work to help those who do not have the necessities and the luxuries that we take for granted. Once every seven years, our ancestors were treated as equals-the land rested and all had ownership in what it naturally produced. May we recognize today that we are all equals and all human, bound by the same rules and responsibilities as everyone else and with the obligations to help those who are less fortunate. In doing so, may our lands be blessed and may we live our lives with fulfillment and meaning rather than feeling like we are in exile.

[1] Leviticus 26:34

[2] Rashi on Leviticus 26:32

[3] Rashi on Leviticus 26:34

[4] Leviticus 25:5

[5] Rashi on Leviticus 25:5

By Jim Merritt Special to Newsday

 

Whether you have been blessed with the voice of an angel, or sound more like a Muppet croaking on a lily pad, it’s likely you’ll be encouraged to sing along when you attend a worship service. This week’s clergy discuss why — no matter how your voice strikes the human ear — your singing is pleasing to the Almighty.
Rabbi Ben Herman

Jericho Jewish Center

Song is an important part of any form of worship. In Judaism it goes back to biblical times, with the words of the Psalmist “Sing unto God a new song, for God has done marvelous things.” (Psalm 98:1) We acknowledge God’s role in creating the world and sustaining us through our singing to him. Whenever God did a wonder for our people, we sang a song of praise, an example being Shirat Hayam, the song the Israelites sang after God split the Red Sea. Not only is this song read as part of the Torah reading cycle, but we stand for its recitation and sing parts of it alongside the Torah reader. Our people always praised God through song, whether it was Moses, Miriam, King David, the Levites in temple worship, the rabbis who wrote great liturgical poems and odes to our creator or the cantors who write modern compositions to praise God. Singing is what brings the service to life, enabling prayer to enter into the essence of a person’s being, to touch one’s soul. Song also enables the entire prayer community to participate in the service. Those who do not read Hebrew can connect through the power of song. The prayer leader is responsible for creating this participatory and communal feeling, adding spirituality and warmth to the service through song. There is nothing better than having a service where everyone participates by praising God with one voice. This is what the Psalmist says in his final verse, “Let every breath [soul] praise God, Hallelujah!” (Psalm 150:6)
The Rev. Earl Y. Thorpe Jr.

Pastor, Church-in-the-Garden, Garden City

We sing because it is part of our praise and worship experience in church. Just like praying, singing is honoring and blessing God, collectively, with our voices. It brings us together. Fellowship is found through song. When the choir sings, if we know the song, we can sing along (even if some of us are melodically challenged). You become part of a dynamic congregational worship experience where you are part of something bigger than yourself. In a real sense, singing the anthems and the hymns particularly, reminds us in a very visceral way of the biblical Scripture that these hymns are based on. When we sing “Amazing Grace,” for instance, it was built on someone’s life and experience, but it also is rooted in the Scriptures. It tells a story to which we can relate. Songs resonate with us because they relate a theology. “It Is Well With My Soul” is another example of this. The lyrics hearken back to the Scriptures, a belief and faith that we know and can truly feel. Even if you went to a church, and you didn’t remember the message from the preacher, most likely you would remember a song because its lyrics resonated with you. Our songs then are mini-sermons offering encouragement and hope. When you go to an installation or ordination service of a minister or a reverend, they are given a Bible and a hymnbook because they work together. Songs are vital to the church.

The Rev. Ron Stelzer
Pastor, Our Savior Lutheran Church, Centereach

Worshipful singing is the natural response of a creature to its creator and savior. Angels sang God’s praises as they witnessed the creation. When God delivered his people from Egyptian slavery, Moses and Miriam led the musical tribute: “Sing unto the Lord, Who has triumphed; horses and their riders He has thrown into the sea.” (Exodus 15:1, 21) David’s music had a spiritually therapeutic and even exorcistic effect on King Saul. In my congregation, my philosophy is that the Bible is our standard, so its music from beginning to end should be a part of our experience as well. In fact, congregational singing is a strong part of the Lutheran tradition, introduced by Martin Luther. One of the three main divisions of the Old Testament Scriptures is the hymnbook called the “Psalms.” New Testament history barely begins, and Mary is singing her “Magnificat.” Before leaving the Upper Room for Gethsemane, Jesus and his disciples sing a hymn. Early Christians are commanded to speak to each other “in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, making melody in your heart to the Lord.” (Ephesians 5:19) The Book of Revelation says heaven will be filled with a new song no man can learn but the redeemed of the Lord. Congregational singing brings all this good news of the Gospel and to God’s goodness to us.

When I think of the words shared by Mr. Konstantyn, I think of how much this resonates with us today. Unfortunately we are exposed to words of hate on a daily basis: in the news, on our television screens, on the LIRR and in this Presidential campaign. What do we do to stand up to those who preach messages of hate, to refute their words? How do we counter their messages without giving them more attention and thereby credence?

One of the most compelling speeches that I have heard on this topic was from Israeli politician Yair Lapid of the Yesh Atid party (meaning “There is a Future”), who said the following message just under 2 years ago from Platform 17 in Berlin at Grunewald railway station, from which tens of thousands of Jews were taken to their deaths:

The Holocaust causes us all to ask of ourselves the same question: What would I have done?

What would I have done if I was a Jew in Berlin in 1933, when Hitler rose to power? Would I have run? Would I have sold my house, my business? Removed my children from school in the middle of the year? Or would I have said to myself: it will pass, it is just momentary madness, Hitler says all these things because he is a politician seeking election. Yes, he’s anti-Semitic, but who isn’t? We’ve been through worse than this. It’s better to wait, to keep my head down. it will pass.”

What would I do if I was a German in Berlin on the 18th October 1941, when the first train left this platform, heading East and on it 1,013 Jews – children, women, the elderly – all destined for death.

I don’t ask what I would have done if I was a Nazi, but what would I have done if I was an honest German man, waiting for his train here? A German citizen the same age I am now, with three children like mine. A man who educated his children on the values of basic human decency and the right to life and respect? Would I have remained silent? Would I have protested? Would I have been one of the few Berliners to join the anti-Nazi underground? or one of the many Berliners who carried on with life and pretended that nothing was happening?

And what if I was one of the 1,013 Jews on that train? Would I have boarded the train? Would I have smuggled my 18 year old daughter to the northern forests? would I have told my two sons to fight until the end? Would I have dropped my suitcase and started to run? Or would I have attacked the guards in the black uniforms and died an honorable, quick death instead of dying slowly of hunger and torture?

The question that must be asked today is what we can do today to combat the messages of violence, hatred and discrimination against an entire group of people. When we have a presidential candidate who wants to deport 11 million people, who has spoken of his intent to deny members of an entire religion the right to come to the United States, do we respond to this or do we ignore it? Do we try to dialogue with those who are different with us, to understand their points of view even though we may disagree, or do we marginalize them through classifying them as “the other?” I’ll always remember the words of Elie Wiesel, “The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.” The words of FDR’s First Inaugural Address also come to mind, “The only thing to fear is fear itself.”

Almighty G-d, may our presence here on this Yom HaShoah give honor to the lives of those who came before us.  May we never forget the impact that they have made through courageously living each day.  May G-d also safeguard us by sustaining and sanctifying lives everywhere. May Jews live safely in America and in the land of Israel, in Paris and in Buenos Aires, in Japan and in Iran.  May we continue to persevere and fortify ourselves in spite of abominable anti-Semitic events being proud of our identities.  May we also never forget the impact that one person can make in the world and may it teach us to speak and act in the face of injustice.  Let us learn from the survivors and their families to be courageous and strong, living each day with meaning and purpose.  Amen.

Ever heard the phrase “if you don’t do something right better not to do it at all”? So trite but true. So easy to do yet often not done by many of us. We live in a world that encourages ADHD behavior, moving rapidly from one activity to the next, scheduling in every hour of one’s day. Parents take their kids from soccer to dance to tutoring, not getting home until 10 at night, then waking up the next morning to another brutal day of the same cycle. I know I get started with one activity but often something comes up and I’m quickly moving to the next.

For many of us, Shabbat and Yom Tov are countercultural days, opportunities for us to slow down and smell the roses. However, Passover at first glance fits into the pattern of haste and frenzy that is common in many of our daily lives. We are told to eat unleavened bread for 7 days because we left Egypt in haste.[1] Furthermore, we are taught that the Paschal lamb was eaten in haste.[2] Why is everything done so quickly? We are familiar with the idea that the Israelites had to leave in haste, lest Pharaoh change his mind and forbid their departure. However, Rabbi Isaac Luria presents a different idea: that our ancestors were so mired in the depravity of Egyptian culture that had they stayed just a little longer, they would have been contaminated beyond redemption. They were on the 49^th of 50 levels of impurity, which explains why they would so quickly construct a golden calf and yearn to return to Egypt. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Twerski writes that “even a single extra moment (in Egypt) might have sealed our doom.”[3] Thus the quick exodus from Egypt might have been on account of the Israelites’ actions just as much as it was because of Pharaoh’s fickle mind.

I’m sure there are some who are thinking if Passover is about haste, why are we still eating Matzah eight days later? Clearly G-d did not have our digestive tracks in mind when the holiday was established! All kidding aside, I would argue that the Passover that we observe today is more about slowing down than speeding up. We have had uninterrupted work weeks for months now, especially with the leap year. We have braved the chill of winter and watched the blooms of spring. One of Passover’s names is Hag HaAviv, the springtime holiday, and having come out of the winter we can now experience the rebirth of life (especially true for Karina and me). Passover enables us to take a step back and appreciate what we have, all of our freedoms. Especially now after all the houses have been purged of chametz, extraneous material, we have an opportunity to appreciate what is truly important: our families, our friends and our community.

At this moment of reflection, we also have the opportunity to think of those who are no longer with us and the impact they made and continue to make in our lives. For parents we cherish all that they put into raising us, teaching us values and ethics, molding us into the people we are today. For siblings we remember playing together in the yard, sticking up for one another in the face of bullies, being together for family celebrations and watching each other’s families grow. For a spouse we remember starting a partnership together from the laughing moments of the first dates to walking together under the wedding canopy to starting a family together. For children we remember raising them, their first steps and first words, taking them to school, teaching them to drive. These memories, though bittersweet, are important to hold onto. They not only bind us to our past but also set the foundation for the life that we continue to live each and every day.

As we prepare to say Yizkor, let us remember to slow down, taking moments to recall all those who though are physically no longer with us, they are still very much present in our hearts. May we take time to see their smile, the twinkle in their eyes, feel the caress of their hands, and remember their crowing achievements. In so doing, we continue to honor their examples and ensure that all they have stood for will continue to be an enduring benediction. We always continue to love them, to hold them near and dear to our hearts.

[1] Deuteronomy 16:3

[2] Exodus 12:11 and Mishnah Pesachim 9:5

[3] Abraham Joshua Twerski, Messages from the Mishnah (Brooklyn, NY: Mesorah Publications, LTD, 2013), p. 135.

There’s a great song that we have incorporated into some of our Friday Night Live services. It goes “Standing at the Sea, Mi Chamocha, freedom is on the way!” Then the kids yell out FREEDOM! We celebrate the fact that Moses and Miriam led our ancestors in song after the Sea of Reeds opened for them. This is a part of our daily liturgy, and the words from Mi Chamocha, “Who is like you,” are chanted in both the morning and evening services. At the same time, there is no ritual connected to commemorating Israel crossing the sea. There are rituals involving the ten plagues, the unleavened bread, even holding up the Paschal lamb to commemorate G-d passing over our homes, yet there is nothing in the Ashkenazi service to commemorate the splitting of the sea.

Sephardim from Mediterranean countries do a special commemoration of the splitting of the sea. On the end of the eighth night, the synagogue is opened at one minute after midnight. The Torah is taken from the ark and the Song of Songs is read while congregants dance in the aisles. Following the Torah reading, the Mimouna festivities begin. Mimouna means “wealth” or “good fortune” in Arabic, and the celebration honors Rambam, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, a major authority of Sephardi Jews whose father’s Yahrzeit is the last day of Passover.

The Mimouna celebration varies depending on the customs and traditions of the local Sephardi community. There are many Sephardi communities who act out the crossing of the Sea of Reeds.  People who lived inland would go to rivers, wells, springs, or swimming holes to re-enact the miraculous journey. They would pour water over their hands and feet and even on the threshold of their homes. Once this ritual was done, they would then go to an outdoor setting to set up tents and picnics complete with music, laughter, singing and dancing. Every year the Tucson Jewish community hosts a major Mimouna celebration with bellydancers and Mediterranean food.

The Turkish Jews also have a special ritual as part of their Mimouna celebration that connects to the splitting of the sea. They throw coins and candy to their children, which symbolizes the wealth and abundance of food that our ancestors brought with them when they left Egypt. Some also throw grass, symbolizing the crossing of the Sea of Reeds as well as the hope that this coming year will be one of growth. There are stories I’ve read of children who could not wait until the men returned home from services, treasuring the opportunity to collect the coins and the candy.

Two aspects of this Sephardi ritual are significant to me. First, it gives the children something to look forward to at the end of the holiday. For many, the last two days of Passover can be anti-climactic, as the first two have the majesty of the Seder but the last two don’t have any direct ritual associated with them-and by now we can’t wait to eat bread. Mimouna provides a direct ritual for which we can revel in our joy of making it through one more Passover, another holiday at which we celebrate the liberation of our people. Secondly, this ritual directly ties into the Song at the Sea which we read today. It makes the concept of our ancestors being saved at a moment they faced destruction very real and tangible for children.  Just as we teach our children at the Seder table about the unique nature of Passover through the asking of the Four Questions, and that even as we rejoice we diminish our happiness on account of the Egyptians who perished during the plagues, so too should we take an opportunity to directly demonstrate for them the celebration of our people’s redemption from Egypt.

The more often we crystallize a historical event, bringing it out of the book and into people’s lived experiences, the more success we will have in transmitting the impact of that event to future generations. It is wonderful to hear Cantor Black beautifully chant the crossing of the sea or to sing (as done in some congregations) Yom L’Yabashah, the piyyut by Yehudah HaLevi, in which he writes that the redemption from Egypt should bring about future redemption for our people. At the same time, if we don’t actively show connection between the event and our lives, we lose the linkage as to why this matters to us. Some synagogues reenact the biblical events as part of their services; others draw parallels between them and current events. What is most important is to take the text out of the page and into our hearts, bringing the text to life, so that we will truly feel that we are standing at the sea on the way towards redemption. That is the potential of a song like “Standing at the Sea,” teaching our children to celebrate our freedoms and to connect with a time when our people were not free. Let us strive to create every opportunity for “living Judaism,” to make our texts and traditions relatable to the next generation. Hag Sameach.

Yesterday I discussed how to make one’s Seder more Zionistic with bringing in the theme of us returning to the Land of Israel with the Fifth Cup of wine. Today I want to talk about a section of the Passover liturgy that is Zionistic but which we do not read in our congregation: Berach Dodi (ברח דודי), which means “make haste my beloved.”

Berach Dodi is a series of piyutim (liturgical poetry) based of Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs. Shir HaShirim has a number of references to Israel, such as “I am black but you are comely, O Daughters of Jerusalem,”[1] and “This is my beloved and this is my friend, O Daughters of Jerusalem.”[2] For the rabbis who wrote the piyutim, this is not the relationship between two human lovers but rather between G-d and Israel. The final verse of Song of Songs, where Berach Dodi comes from, reads “Make haste, my beloved, and be like to a gazelle or to a young deer upon the spice-laden mountains.”[3] This is a strange verse to be sure! We are certain about the meaning of the end of Eicha (Lamentations), when we ask for G-d to return to us and to restore us as in the days of the Temple. We are certain of the end of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) when we are told the one thing we must listen to is to fear G-d and keep His commandments. In contrast, the beautiful love poetry of Song of Songs ends with a cliffhanger: the two lovers apart, with one beseeching the other to return at gazelle speed.

Rabbi Akiva, a staunch defender of the Song of Songs at times when other rabbis wanted to remove it from the biblical canon, proclaimed “All the ages are not more precious than the day Israel received the Song of Songs. All the Scriptures are Holy, but the Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies!”[4] He also viewed the Song of Songs as a story about the love between G-d and Israel. As such, the separation between G-d and Israel came to be understood as Israel being in exile. Therefore, the final verse is Israel entreating G-d to return as swiftly as possible so that their relationship can be reunited.

Now enters the rabbinic prayers of Berach Dodi.[5] These are requests for G-d to return to us in the Messianic Age. As in the prayer for the first day of Passover “Make haste, my Beloved, and bring the Messiah before the appointed deadline blows by.” The second day’s prayer is no less urgent, imploring “Make haste, my Beloved, to Jerusalem Your abode. If we have strayed from your path, please peer at us through Your lattice and save the poor and bruised people.” The final member of the triumvirate, the piyut for Shabbat Hol HaMoed Pesach (the intermediate Sabbath of Passover) reads “Make haste, my Beloved, to the site of our Temple.”

Why on Passover do some congregations read these prayers? Perhaps it is to remind us of the harsh affliction we felt as slaves in Egypt and that while we have been freed from that, we are still in exile. We need G-d to bring about the Messianic Age, to bring Torah and truth into the world. By reading these piyutim in Shacharit right before we praise G-d for being “Redeemer of Israel” and begin our silent Amidah, we are remembering that we were redeemed once from slavery and yearning that so too do we pray to be redeemed from worldly exile, entering an age of peace.

Do these poems continue to hold meaning for us with the creation of the State of Israel? Some would certainly say yes because even though we have the land of Israel, we do not have the peace and knowledge of the one true G-d that the Messianic Age would bring. Others would say that instead of focusing on worldly exile, we should place the emphasis on redemption, seeing all the wonderful advances that have been created in the Land of Israel and how they lead us to a brighter future. Whatever the case may be, there is still an important place for a prayer like “Make Haste My Beloved,” “Berach Dodi.” How often do we take things for granted, going about our business as usual without a sense of urgency-at least until we feel a fire under us that pushes us forward? How often do we revel in the comforts of our Long Island homes when not recognizing that just down the road there are people who do not have the basic necessities of life? How often do we take our days for granted until a life event shakes us to the reality of the finitude of our lives. Instead of just calling for G-d to make haste, we need to do so as well, living with a sense of purposeful urgency. As we yearn to feel G-d’s presence in our lives, so must we act in a way that demonstrates our active attempts to connect with something greater than ourselves to make our world into a better place.

As we continue to celebrate our Passover holiday, let us strive to wake up and break the chains of exile that we put upon ourselves. May we live each day with purpose and vitality, striving to bring G-d’s presence into our relationships with everyone we touch. As we celebrate our own freedom, let us recognize all those who are enslaved in the world and actively work to make a difference in making them free. May we also recognize the forces to which we are enslaved to and strive to free ourselves from them. In so doing, may we truly have a meaningful and enjoyable holiday, a Hag Kasher V’Sameach.

[1] Song of Songs 1:5

[2] Song of Songs 5:8

[3] Song of Songs 8:14

[4] Mishnah Yedayim 3:5

[5] The prayer recited on the first day was written by Rabbi Shlomo HaBavli of Italy, the second day’s is by his student Rabbi Meshullam ben Kalonymos and the one read on Shabbat Hol HaMoed is by Rabbi Shimon HaGadol of Mainz.

 

Every year I look for opportunities to add something to the conversation of the Second Night Seder that might have been lacking on the first night. The theme that I want to focus on today is moving from slavery to entering to the land of Israel. Passover has some very Zionist elements but only two of them are directly incorporated into our Haggadah. First at the beginning of the Maggid section,[1] we proclaim השתא הכא: לשנה הבאה בארעא דישראל, “Now we are here; next year may we be in the Land of Israel.” Then at the end of the Haggadah we state לשנה הבאה בירושלים, NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM! However, there is no direct statement in the Haggadah that the purpose of our being redeemed from slavery in Egypt was to serve G-d in the land of Israel.[2]

It is strange that the authors of the Haggadah chose not to focus on this theme because it is at the core of the biblical exodus narrative. In Exodus Chapter 6 Verse 6, G-d proclaims I will bring you out (והוצאתי) from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you (והצלתי) from their bondage, and I will redeem you (וגאלתי) with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments. In Verse 7 He continues and I will take you (ולקחתי) to Me for a people, and I will be to you a G-d; and you shall know that I am the LORD your G-d, who brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians. The four verbs indicate the movement from slavery in Egypt, the place which is narrow, to becoming G-d’s people. They correspond to the four cups of wine drunk at the Passover Seder. However, there is a fifth verb in verse 8, And I will bring you (והבאתי) into the land, concerning which I lifted up My hand to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob; and I will give it you for a heritage: I am the LORD.’

To what does the fifth cup correspond? Some argue that it is Elijah’s cup, that which we fill but from which we do not drink. The Babylonian Talmud follows the tradition that we only drink from four cups,[3] stating that the first cup is drunk to sanctify the day,[4] the second cup is poured before the recitation of the 4 questions,[5] the third cup is over the festival meal and the fourth cup is over Hallel and the “Grace of Song,” which according to Rabbi Tarfon refers to Psalm 136.[6] Interestingly, Rashi, the medieval commentator on the Talmud par excellence, writes in his comment on the fourth cup in our version, (הכי גרסינן) indicating that there are other versions of the text. We know that there were multiple manuscripts of the Babylonian Talmud (בבלי) as well as the Jerusalem Talmud (ירושלמי).

It is the latter that I wish to turn to now. The Rif, Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi, an 11^th century Moroccan commentator who published a “cliff notes” version on the Babylonian Talmud, begins this section by referencing the Jerusalem Talmud. He cites sections of the text but he references Rabbi Tarfon as stating that Psalm 136 is said over the fifth cup.[7] The Jerusalem Talmud was an earlier version, compiled in the 4^th century CE, and thus some argue that we should follow that tradition, even though the Babylonian Talmud has become authoritative. Maimonides references that some have the tradition of pouring a fifth cup but it is not obligatory like the other four.[8]

What does this have to do with us and why would the tradition have changed? One take is that the earliest tradition was the drinking of a fifth cup connected to the fifth verb about being brought into the Land of Israel. When it became clear that our ancestors would stay in exile, the fifth cup, and thereby the fifth verb about being brought into Israel, were omitted. Another take is that the fifth cup represents the fifth enemy kingdom, of Gog, which will lead to the coming of the Messianic Age.[9] I prefer the former take but whether it is historically accurate or not, I feel that we need to do something to acknowledge Israel as part of our Passover Seder. We tell the story of the Exodus, with the 10 plagues and the splitting of the sea, but our story is incomplete without its next chapter, the entering of the Promised Land, just like our Torah is incomplete without the knowledge that Joshua would lead our ancestors to conquer the Land of Canaan.

Tonight when you celebrate your Passover Seder, Let us reflect on what we can do to incorporate Israel. For some it might be the singing of Israeli songs before the Birkat HaMazon (ברכת המזון); for others it might be to talk about the significance of living in an age where there is a land of Israel, a land which so many yearned for and dreamed about over the years. While we are not yet at the Messianic Age, an age of true peace and brotherhood, we are at an age where we can return to and embrace our historical homeland and make it part and parcel of every Jewish ritual, thus demonstrating that it is always on our minds and in our hearts. כן יהי רצון , may it be our will to do so.

[1] הא לחמא עניא

[2] The next closest one gets is Dayenu at which point the exodus from Egypt is only the beginning, with the ending being given the Temple to atone for our sins.

[3] Babylonian Talmud Pesachim 108b

[4] Ibid, 114a

[5] Ibid, 116a

[6] Ibid, 117a

[7] Rif on Babylonian Talmud Tractate Pesachim 36b

[8] Maimonides Laws of Hametz and Matzah 8:10

[9] Joshua Kulp, The Schechter Haggadah: Art, History and Commentary (Jerusalem: The Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, 2009), 175.

Some portions lend themselves easily to a sermon-others not so much. What does the scale disease of tzaraat have to do with a couple getting married? Is there any possible connection? I would argue yes through looking at how tzaraat was treated and juxtaposing it with a couple after their wedding.

The beginning of the portion details the procedure for someone who has tzaraat. Such an individual is sprinkled with a sacrificial mixture seven times, is isolated from his/her community for seven days and shaves off all of his/her hair on the seventh day. At the end of the seventh day s/he enters a natural body of water and is purified. On the eighth day s/he offers an atonement sacrifice which again involves a sevenfold sprinkling on the ridge of the right ear, the thumb of the right hand and the big toe of the right foot of one who had contracted tzaraat.

The key number in this procedure is seven. The sprinkling occurs seven times, and the afflicted individual is quarantined for seven days. Seven is a key number in Judaism, representing a complete cycle. The seven days of creation are why we have seven days of the week with the seventh day, Shabbat, being the day of rest, where we feel complete from all we have created during the week. It is also why we have a seven year cycle for the land, in which the seventh year is the year of rest, where we take a step back from our produce. Similarly, we have a seven day period after one has lost a loved one to give that individual time to grieve and heal before reentering into society. The same is true in our portion, as one who is found with an affliction needs time to recover from it, to reenter society as a whole human being. Why isolate someone? The common answer is that said individual engaged in motzi shem ra, evil speech, and thus needed to have time to think about what s/he did and work towards reforming his/her behavior. Tzaraat is thus an affliction that befalls someone because of a mistake that s/he made-the primary example being Miriam receiving it after speaking against Moses’ wife.

At a wedding, we also have the power of the number seven. We first experience it when the bride circles the groom seven times. This comes from a verse in Jeremiah “a woman shall encircle a man.”[1]  The reason for seven times is to symbolize divine protection; that G-d is looking after the couple and watching over their marital union. The seven circles represent complete connection and union between the bride and the groom.

We also have the Sheva Berachot, or seven blessings said under the wedding canopy, or Huppah. These blessings also have to do with creation. The first blessing, over a cup of wine, is for rejoicing for the marital union, as all celebratory moments in Judaism occur over a cup of wine. The second blessing testifies that G-d created everything for His glory. The third and fourth blessings both end יוצר האדם, the creator of humankind, as we praise G-d for creating us. However, the third blessing focuses on the creation of mankind as part and parcel of the creation of the world, whereas the fourth emphasizes our creation in G-d’s image and our perpetuation of our people. The fifth blessing is about the land of Israel rejoicing. When the First Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and our people were exiled, there was fear that we would never return to the land of Israel. Jeremiah countered this fear, proclaiming עוד ישמע בערי יהודה ובחוצות ירושלים קול ששון וקול שמחה קול חתן וקול כלה, “There will once again be heard in the cities of Judah and the courtyards of Jerusalem voices of joy and gladness, voices of bridegroom and bride!”[2] With these sounds of gladness, the land will rejoice. The sixth blessing is one for the happy couple, proclaiming that they are רעים האהובים, beloved companions, and comparing marriage to the paradise of the Garden of Eden. The final blessing once again returns to G-d’s creations but focuses on the bride and groom and their rejoicing together at their wedding. The seven blessings thus go from the macro approach of the creation of the entire world to the micro approach of the joy of this bride and this groom at their marriage.[3] In traditional communities there are seven days of celebration[4] following a marriage with festive meals, each of which contains the recitation of these blessings.
The use of seven to represent completion is beautiful, but I think what is even more beautiful is the notion of the eighth day. Going back to our portion, the person afflicted with tzaraat immersed in the mikveh on the seventh day but could only achieve atonement and rejoin the community on the eighth day. While seven represents completion, eight represents becoming part of our people. That is why the bris for a baby boy, at which he is given a Hebrew name and becomes part of the Jewish people, occurs on the eighth day. Similarly the Tabernacle and the Temple, the central shrines of our people, were both dedicated on the eighth day. In King Solomon’s time, our ancestors celebrated Sukkot for seven days at the site of the Temple in Jerusalem but the building was solemnized as the central worship site of our people on the eighth day.

The same lesson is true for marriage. After seven days of celebrating, either through the festive meals with the Sheva Berachot or by going on a honeymoon, the true work of becoming a household begins on the eighth day. The question for you, Matthew and Mandy, is what will you do to establish your household as Jewish? Will you celebrate Shabbat and holidays together, purchase and display Jewish artwork and ritual items, attend Jewish Young Professionals programs, have a Passover Seder, join a synagogue? After taking much deserved time to celebrate your marriage, the hard work of going from being individuals to becoming a couple, with values, traditions, goals and aspirations, begins one day at a time. I know that through open communication, through truly striving to understand one another, you will make every day count and will begin to embark on a wonderful life together. Mazal Tov on your upcoming marriage!

[1] Jeremiah 31:21. Interestingly, the original context is Jeremiah rebuking the daughters of Israel for being unfaithful and changing the natural order of things-a woman courting a man.

[2] Jeremiah 33:10-11

[3] My teacher, Rabbi Miles Cohen, taught me that the proper חתימה (ending) for the blessing is משמח החתן והכלה, to demonstrate that it is specifically this groom and this bride, rather than the traditional text, which reads משמח חתן והכלה. The traditional text also indicates that it could be any “groom” with this bride, which is definitely not what we want the message to be!

[4] Also called sheva berachot.

1. Read Leviticus 13:1-23, 13:44-54, 14:1-10, 14:34-45

 

• What are all the things that can be susceptible to tzaraat?
• Why would God inflict tzaraat on one’s home when entering Israel?!

 

1. Read Exodus 4:1-9

 

• Why was tzaraat given to Moshe at this time?

 

רש”י שמות פרק ד   ו) מצרעת כשלג – דרך צרעת להיות לבנה  (ויקרא יג ד) אם בהרת לבנה היא. אף באות זה רמז שלשון הרע סיפר באומרו (פסוק א) לא יאמינו לי, לפיכך הלקהו בצרעת, כמו שלקתה מרים על לשון הרע

Rashi Exodus 4:6   White as snow-The way of tzaraat is to be white (Lev. 13:4 “If it is a bright white spot.” Also here there is a hint that Moses said lashon hara (evil speech) with his statement (Ex. 4:1 “They will not believe me!”  Therefore, God struck him with tzaraat, as Miriam was struck for lashon hara.

 

אבן עזרא הפירוש הקצר שמות פרק ד   (ח) אם לא יאמינו – ידענו כי השם ידע כל העתידות, רק הדבור כנגד משה. אחר שאמר השם ושמעו לקולך (שמות ג יח), אמר משה אפחד אני שלא ישמעו כולם לקולי

Ibn Ezra 4:8 If they don’t believe-We know that God knows the entire future. This statement is against Moses. After God said “They will listen to your voice (Ex. 3:18)”, Moses said ‘I am afraid that they will not all listen to my voice.’

 

ספורנו שמות פרק ד   ח) והאמינו לקול האות האחרון. כי יותר רחוק אצל הטבע לרפאת את הצרעת העזה כשלג אשר היא כמו מות לאותו אבר אשר היא בו בלי ספק

Seforno Exodus 4:8   They will believe the power of the second sign-It is much harder according to nature to heal tzaraat, mighty like snow, which is like death to the entire limb that it encounters! (Hizkuni says, similarly, only God can heal it).

• For which of these reasons (or another) do you believe that God struck Moses with tzaraat?

 

 

III. Read Numbers 12:1-16

 

רש”י במדבר פרק יב   י) והענן סר – ואחר כך והנה מרים מצורעת כשלג, משל למלך שאמר לפדגוג, רדה את בני, אבל לא תרדנו עד שאלך מאצלך, שרחמי עליו:

Rashi Numbers 12   And the cloud was removed-and after that “And behold! Miriam was metzoraat like snow.  It is like a parable where a king tells his son’s teacher “Afflict my son, but do not afflict until I leave you, for I have mercy upon him.”

• Is there any merit to this statement? How do you show mercy if you are still causing someone to be afflicted?!

 

 

אור החיים במדבר פרק יב   ט) ויחר אף ה’. פירוש גירה בהם הנחרים בהם שהם כת האף, וילך כדי שיעשה האף מה שהורשה, והגם שבסנה אמר הכתוב (שמות ד’) ויחר אף ה’ במשה, שם רשם שיעור אשר יפעול בו האף והוא שיסור ממנו כח הנשמה שהיא בחינת הכהונה ותנתן לאהרן כמאמר רז”ל (זבחים קב. שמו”ר פ”ג) שהרושם הוא הסרת הכהונה, וכאן עשה האף משפט גדול שהצרעת היא כמיתה כאמור בענין, ובשניהם היה העונש כאומרו בם, וכן אמרו רז”ל (ספרי) ויפן וגו’ פנה מצרעתו, אלא שמרים לא נתרפאה כאהרן תכף ומיד:

Or HaChaim Numbers 12:9   And God was wrathful with them-An explanation: he incited their nostrils against them, for nostrils are a part of the nose. And he left, so that the nose would do what it was permitted (let in the leprosy?).  Also with the bush the verse says (Ex. 4:14): “And God was angry with Moses.”  There it lists the measure that the anger will enact, that the breath of life that is the priesthood will be taken away from him and given to Aaron as the sages teach (Zevachim 102a, Shemot Rabbah Chapter 3) that the measure is the removal of the priesthood.  And thus the anger enacted a great judgment, as tzaraat is like death, and for the two of them the punishment is like what was said by them (about Moses’ wife). And thus said the sages (Sifrei) “And Aaron turned away”-he turned away from his tzaraat.  However, Miriam was not healed immediately as Aaron was.

• What does Or HaChaim teach us here about tzaraat?

 

 

אור החיים במדבר פרק יב   י) והנה מצורעת. לא היה צריך לומר הדבר אחר שכבר אמר והנה מרים מצורעת וגו’ ולפי דבריהם ז”ל (ספרי) שאמרו שגם אהרן נצטרע ירצה לומר הנה היא עדיין מצורעת ולא פרחה ממנה כאהרן ואמרו עוד חז”ל (שם) שדוקא כשהיה פונה היתה מצורעת וכשהיה מחזיר פניו היתה פורחת ממנה,

Or HaChaim Numbers 12:10   And Miriam had tzaraat-It does not need to say this, since it already said “And behold: Miriam had tzaraat.” According to the rabbis, who said that Aaron was also afflicted with tzaraat, it wants to say that she still had tzaraat; it did not remove itself from her as it did from Aaron. The rabbis also said that specifically when he turned away he had tzarrat but when he turned back it removed itself from him.

• Why do you think tzaraat removed itself from Aaron but not from Miriam?

 

Commentator Index

Hizkuni: Hezekiah ben Manoah; 13^th Century France

Ibn Ezra: Abraham ibn Ezra; 1089-1164; Spain and Italy

Or HaChaim: Chaim ibn Attar; 1696-1743; Morocco and Israel

Rashi: Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzhak; 1040-1105; Troyes, France

Seforno: Obadiah ben Jacob Seforno; 1475-1150; Italy