Chaverim,
This week’s Torah portion interrupts the description of the building of the Tabernacle with a narrative section that includes the story of the Golden Calf, and — although perhaps less famously — the most chutzpadik (impertinent) question in the whole Torah. The question comes after Moses has negotiated twice with God on behalf of the Israelites, with success. His next negotiation with God is not on behalf of the Israelites, but—surprisingly—for himself. Out of the blue, it seems, Moses speaks up again: “Oh, let me behold Your Presence!“It’s a short exclamation, but it’s a big, big question. Judaism has always thought that God cannot be seen. No human being has ever seen God directly — and that’s not merely a coincidence, but a reality of God’s power and vastness, and human limitations. As is typical with the Torah, most of the details around Moses’ question are left up to our imagination and interpretation. Was he begging God out of curiosity or just giving voice to a wish he knew was impossible to grant? Had he been trying to summon up the courage to ask this question for months or did it slip out of his mouth? Was he literally talking about seeing God, or was “beholding God’s Presence” a metaphor?Rabbi Beth Kalisch, following the lead of some of the mediaeval rabbis, such as Rashi and Rashbam, suggests that Moses out of “piety, humility, and perhaps shyness and fear, refuses to look at God’s Presence” at the “burning bush”, and that he asked for a second chance for what must have been felt as a missed opportunity in Moses eyes. So many of our relationships are burdened with unasked questions; mistakes we made at the very beginning of a relationship that now seem like history that can’t be rewritten.”You cannot see My face,” God tells Moses. But, God finds a way to say yes to Moses, offering what we might understand to be next best thing. The past cannot be rewritten and impossible wishes cannot be granted. But, Kalish writes, if we have the courage and the faith in a relationship to ask the questions we’ve been burying for too long, perhaps there is still a “yes” that we might be able to receive, and to fill that holes that are stopping us from going forward.Shabbat Shalom—Rabbi Adrian M Schell
Torah Reading for Shabbat Ki TisaExodus 30:11 – 34:35Reading: Ex 32:1-24 – Plaut p. 578; Hertz p. 356Haftarah : I Kings 18:1 – 18:39 – Plaut p.607; Hertz p.369



In our Torah portion we read of God‘s encounter with all people of Israel. In this moment of intense, hallowed energy, a voice echoed through the Sinai mountains. It began, “I am the Lord your God…” and concluded with “all that is your neighbour’s.” The Torah’s ten essential guidelines, which address our place in the world are bookended by the self (anokhi) and the other (re’ekha). Rabbi Ira Blum teaches that on a daily basis, we challenge ourselves to consider the existential WHO AM I? and the social WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR? What a blessing! To be tasked with the responsibility of compassion and respect for others, even as we continue our individual searches for truth and meaning.As we celebrate Tu Bi Sh‘vat this week, let us mirror our natural environment by finding strength and space to nourish personal growth, while cultivating circles of responsibility. May we find balance in our rooted knowledge, and may we continue to enrich one another on our journeys of self-discovery, social awareness, and everything in between.Wishing you a wonderful Shabbat Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Ira Blum)
Barely did they cross to freedom, when the people complained to Moses and to God. They complained about a lack of water, they complained about a lack of food, and they complained simply about no longer being surrounded by familiar–if hostile–Egypt. Miracles seem to be an ineffective way of inculcating a consciousness of God. In fact, the entire Bible can be read as a book about the consistent inability of God to teach the Jews to be grateful.First, God tries an idyllic garden. That doesn’t work; Adam and Eve disobey anyway. Then God sends a flood. That fails as well. God then sends a liberator, and redeems them from Egypt. After ten miraculous plagues and a split sea, the Jews still act far from God’s expectations. God gives a Torah—the Jews ignore it. God sends prophets—the Jews rebel against them. The Bible seems to indicate that miracles don’t work. People marvel at them while they are in process, and then forget about them the moment they finish.To change human character takes much more than “special effects,” no matter how Divine their origin. There is no need for a big drama, but rather constant and gradual education, reinforcement, and community.The shift from biblical to rabbinic Judaism reflects the growing, divine insight that the way to mold a sacred people lies not in external miracles, but in inner transformation. That change is accomplished through small, prosaic progress. By gradually incorporating mitzvot into our lives–by moving a step at a time toward making Shabbat, Tikkun Olam, social justice, and study a regular part of our being–we can, with time, remake ourselves in the Divine image.Such a transformation is much more difficult than merely splitting a sea. But the reward of such a transformation is precisely what God sought more than three thousand years ago— a Jewish community that puts God at the centre.Wishing you a wonderful Shabbat Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Bradley Artson)
It is a wonderful coincidence that our Torah reading, parshat Bo, the section that deals with the culminating plagues and the exodus, turns three times to the subject of children and the duty to educate them, when we, at Bet David, have our Back to School service and the opening of the cheder for 2018. As Jews we believe that to defend a country you need an army, but to defend a civilisation you need education. Freedom is lost when it is taken for granted. Unless one generation hands on their memories and ideals to the next generation – the story of how they won their freedom and the battles they had to fight along the way – the long journey falters and we lose our way.What is fascinating, though, is the way the Torah emphasises the fact that children must ask questions. While most traditional cultures see it as the task of a parent or teacher to instruct, or command in order for the child is to obey (“Children should be seen, not heard,” goes the old English proverb. “Children, be obedient to your parents in all things, for this is well-pleasing to the Lord,” says a Christian text), Judaism is asking for the opposite. It is a religious duty to teach our children to ask questions. That is how they, how we, grow.Judaism is not a religion of blind obedience. Indeed, astonishingly in a religion of 613 commandments, there is no Hebrew word that means “to obey”. Instead, the Torah uses the verb shema, untranslatable into English because it means [1] to listen, [2] to hear, [3] to understand, [4] to internalise, and [5] to respond. Written into the very structure of Hebraic consciousness is the idea that our highest duty is to seek to understand the will of God, not just to obey blindly, because we believe that intelligence is God’s greatest gift to humanity. Rashi understands the phrase that God made man “in God’s image, after God’s likeness,” to mean that God gave us the ability “to understand and discern.”As we begin a new year of learning, I encourage all of you, children and adults alike, to ask questions, to grow and to help us growing, and to enjoy one of the greatest gifts we have been granted ever, the freedom to learn.Wishing you a wonderful Shabbat Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Jonathan Sacks) Torah Reading Shabbat BoExodus 10:1-13:16Reading: Exodus 12:1-28Plaut p. 409; Hertz p. 253Haftarah: Jeremiah 46:13-28Plaut p.427; Hertz p.263TuBiSh’vat is on Wednesday 31.01.2018
Torah Reading Shabbat Va’eiraExodus 6:2−9:35 – Reading: Ex 6:26-7:19Plaut p. 384; Hertz p. 235Haftarah: Ezekiel 28:25-29:21Plaut p.401; Hertz p.244Rosh Chodesh Sh’vat is on Wednesday 17.01.18
One of the most haunting and alarming verses in the Torah comes at the beginning of this week’s portion of Sh’mot: “A new king arose in Egypt who did not know Joseph”(Ex 1:8). The Torah imagines that despite Joseph’s insight and intelligence which saved Egypt from ruin, Egypt forgot that story so completely, that the new Pharaoh didn’t know, understand or value Joseph’s contribution to Egyptian prominence. Not only that, but his lack of knowledge led to the oppressive treatment and subsequent enslavement of the Jewish peopleThe verse is disturbing because it exemplifies how a nation’s selective memory can lead down a destructive path for citizens and strangers alike. As much as the Hebrew slaves were oppressed, the Egyptian people were also impacted adversely by their leader’s decisions and the ten plagues brought by God that afflicted every Egyptian.The text explains that the Egyptians took their cue from Pharaoh. The Egyptians did not need much convincing to set up taskmasters and inflict hardship on the Hebrews. We know of course how the story ends, since we retell it every year at the Passover Seder – we were saved by the strong hand and the outstretched arm.Reflecting on the past year 2017, I have been anticipating this text. I have thought about it when I read about the uptick in hate crimes; I have felt it in the double standards regarding politics towards Israel; and it has reverberated in my mind witnessing the rise of right wing and populist politicians all over the world. It’s been hard to think of little else.It is no small comfort to me that in the subsequent verses we read in our Torah portion we meet Shifra and Puah, the midwives who defy Pharaoh’s edict to kill all the newborn Hebrew boys. Acting out of their faith in God and in their awareness of what is just, they strategically denied Pharaoh’s orders. The Talmud (Sotah 11b) points out that the Torah doesn’t just tell of their disobedience, but says, “they let them (the boys) live” (Exod. 1:17). The rabbis ask why the text needed to add that point, since presumably by their disobedience, the children were spared. They answer that the end of the verse teaches that not only did they not kill the boys, but they actively aided them to live, by giving them food and water (BT Sotah). The rabbis imagines that Shifra and Puah actually became God’s partners in creation, as they granted life to the Hebrew children (Shemot Rabba 1:19).As enigmatic as these rewards may be, they make perfect symbolic sense. The seeds of Tikkun Olam were planted with the midwives’ strategic defiance against injustice, as their actions were about preserving life, and anticipating a future where all people would be free to dwell in safety.As we anticipate the new Year, let the story of the midwives serve to remind each of us that we have the ability to speak and act against any and all injustice. Let us not allow “collective forgetting”. Each of us can be a midwife who helps to birth the future and bear the hardships on the road to justice and freedom, never giving up, always with the greater good in mind.Wishing you a wonderful Shabbat and a happy (secular) New YearRabbi Adrian M Schell (Source Rabbi Yael Ridberg)