Category: Rabbinic Thoughts

After last weeks parashiot focusing on Jacob/Israel and his older sons, Parashat Vayeishev (24.12.) introduces the concluding narrative of the first book of Moses with telling us the story of Joseph who is first sold by his brothers into slavery and than rises to second in command after pharaoh in Egypt.It is interesting that Shabbat Chanukah nearly always coincides with the story about Joseph and his brothers.The very first Chanukah was quite different than our own. As you know centuries ago the Maccabees fought a three year struggle against the mighty Syrian-Greek army. The ruler of the Syrian-Greeks, Antiochus Epiphanes had decreed that our people could no longer practice their Judaism, such as no Jewish sacrifices could be offered. Instead sacrifices of pigs had to be made to Zeus. Pagan temples had to be built in the land of Israel. Circumcision was prohibited. Shabbat and holiday celebrations were strictly forbidden. The penalty for not following any of these rules was of course, death. And finally it was forbidden to identify oneself as a Jew. No one was even allowed to use Jewish names any more. So you could not be called Noah or Talya or Joshua, but you couldbe called Bruce, Kim or Adrian.Thank God the Maccabees did not want to be called Adrian. The Maccabees would not have any of these laws. They fought a long hard battle and as you know, won. They cleaned up the Temple, dedicated it in an eight day long celebration (Chanukah means dedication), threw out all of those Jewish Adrian’s, and proclaimed the holiday of Chanukah for all generations to come. Today we light our menorahs to commemorate their victory.The first Chanukah was about fighting not to be like others. But in the Torah we learn about Joseph that he is indeed the first Jew to live in a foreign land. He lives among the Egyptians, making a home for himself there and becomes the second in command of all of Egypt. It is therefore more than a bit ironic that on the Shabbat when we celebrate Chanukkah and its message of being different than others and more importantly our right to be different, we read of Joseph taking on an Egyptian name and acting so much like an Egyptian that his brothers don’t even recognise him when they come begging for food. Throughout the generations, Judaism has gone back and forth between these poles. We want to be different. We want to be the same. Look at the next generation of our Children at Bet David! Children are called Shira and Ariel. Only one generation back, children were called Walter or Susanne. Back and forth with the names we travel, always struggling to live as a Jew while being a part of the world at large. We want to be different. We want to be the same. That is the eternal story of Chanukah.I imagine that in another generation our names will be different again. We can change a name, but we will forever remain the same. We will always be the Jewish people.That is the meaning of Chanukah. That is the import of the twists and turns in our Torah readings this month.Shabbat Shalom and Happy ChanukahRabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Steven Moskowitz)

Our parasha reports the way Isaac was tricked into giving Jacob the blessing for the firstborn, taking advantage of his blindness. But was Isaac really blind, was he really not able to notice that it was Jacob who stood in front of him, and not Esau?History is sometimes made by averting our eyes.  The contrast between Isaac and his father Abraham is most stark.  Abraham moves the story by seeing.  Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw the ram.  It was there all along but he could not see it because of his zeal.  This is similar to Hagar and her story.  The well was there all along.  But she could not see it because of her tears.  Sometimes passion and grief obscure our seeing.  Many people think that miracles are about God working magic.  But according to Genesis they are about lifting up the eyes.  They are about opening the eyes and seeing what is already there. So miracles are more about our seeing things than God’s magic.  Miracles are about noticing the extraordinary in the ordinary.  So how do we understand Isaac’s not seeing?  If he is blinded by choice—because it is too painful to verbalise what one son is doing to another or how his wife is conspiring against him or how he is favouring one son over another—then what might be the miracle that he is unable to see?  That miracle I am sorry to say is in the sequel.  It is in next week’s portion.  That miracle is the dream of a ladder going to heaven.  This miracles occurs because Jacob is now running from Esau.  Such is the history that is created by Isaac choosing not to see.I am left with the impression that we can’t see everything.  That some things are too painful to see clearly.  The truth must sometimes be concealed.  And that we must, as a matter of faith, veil our eyes. In truth, it is not Abraham who teaches us how to build faith.  God can ask me as many times as He wants but I am not going to sacrifice my son—or my daughter—on some mountain top.  It is Isaac who tells me how to lead a life of faith.  We can look at the world and all its pain.  We can look at our own lives with all the difficulties, and say, there is no God; there are no miracles.  Or you can see the lone ram caught in the thicket, or the well buried under the desert scrub.  You can look at nature in all its wonderful spring colours, and say, “I believe!” Faith is a matter of averting our eyes from our daily pains.  And seeing instead the sometimes less frequent joys and blessings.  It is about seeing—and not seeing.Shabbat Shalom – Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Steven Moskowitz)  Podcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or:  http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

Say this when you mourn for me:There was a man- and look, he is no more.He died before his time.The music of his life suddenly stopped.A pity! There was another song in him.Now it is lostforever. . .                                              (“After My Death,” by Chaim Nachman Bialik )

How often do we find ourselves standing at the graveside of one “taken from our midst too young” and feeling the pain of such sentiments. Life is so fragile, so precious, so easily lost forever, and we are prone to taking it for granted until it is too late. We know better, yet we seem unable to refocus our attention upon what matters most. Our sadness in the face of such deaths is rooted not merely in the pain of loss, but also in the fact that one taken by death too soon is unable to complete his work, to fulfill her potential, to live life fully.Rabbi Aaron Panken reminds us that the lament of Bialik’s sad and mournful poetry need not be the eulogy for any human life, regardless of the number of years. The wisdom of our Jewish tradition holds Abraham up as a standard of a life well-lived. Abraham’s life was not merely long; his days and years were also full of meaning and purpose, kindness to others, and devotion to God. Although they were not perfect by any means, Abraham and Sarah lived every day of their lives, our Rabbis teach. They never missed an opportunity to make a difference. And neither must we.”Life is not made of years, but of moments,” Elie Wiesel said (Lehigh University commencement, May 24, 1010). Far more important than counting our years is making our moments count.May this be our blessing. Shabbat Shalom – Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Jim Bennett) 

Torah Reading for Chayei SarahGenesis 23:1-25:18 (Gen 24:1-26) – Plaut p. 156; Hertz p. 82Haftarah: Kings 1:1-31 – Plaut p.169; Hertz 90In our Parasha

• Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah, in order to bury his wife Sarah.

• Later Abraham sends his servant to find a bride for Isaac.

• Rebekah, the future bride, shows her kindness by offering to draw water for the servant’s camels at the well.

• The servant meets Rebekah’s family and then takes Rebekah to Isaac, who marries her.

• Abraham takes another wife, named Keturah. At the age of one hundred and seventy-five years, Abraham dies, and Isaac and Ishmael bury him in the cave of Machpelah.

Podcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or:  http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

The story of the Akeidah, the “Binding” of Isaac, is certainly one of the most terrifying and troubling accounts in all of the Torah. The Rabbis since the dawn of Rabbinical discussion have been arguing its merits and problems. How could the same Abraham who argued with God to save Sodom and Gomorrah have acceded passively to God’s demand that he sacrifice his favourite son? Whose test was it … a test of Abraham, or a test of God? Where was Sarah in this whole story? What did Abraham think about for three days while he journeyed to the place that God promised to show him for the sacrifice? How could an Israelite and Prophetic tradition which decries human sacrifice reconcile Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice a human child to his God? How could such a “test” of Abraham’s love for God be taken seriously? The questions mount up.It is particularly powerful, that this short Torah account continues to captivate our hearts and imagination in every generation. In his book, The Last Trial, the scholar Shalom Spiegel points out that in the Middle Ages, the murdered Jews of those oppressed generations wrote intricate poems based on the midrashim (rabbinical stories) that claimed that Abraham, in fact, sacrificed Isaac who was then brought back to life! For them, the story symbolised at once the horror and hope of resisting anti-Semitism.In our own times, artists and poets have continued to find resonance and meaning in the Akeidah. The artist George Segal, when asked to create a sculpture to memorialise the anti-Vietnam War Student demonstrators killed at Kent State University, created his unforgettable 1978 sculpture, Abraham and Isaac. In bronze images, he portrays the figures of an American workman with his knife at the throat of a student wearing love beads and shorts: it is the older generation, he seems to say, that sends their children to war. It is the children who die. Last week, on November 4, represents the yahrzeits, which is intimately tied up with our parshah. 04 November is the anniversary of the assassination of Prime Minister Yizhak Rabin. At the funeral, U.S. President Bill Clinton, in his famous “Shalom Chaver” speech, was the speaker to refer to the Parshah, pointing out the near sacrifice of the Biblical Isaac, and lamenting the sacrifice of “our Isaac”.Shabbat Shalom – Rabbi Adrian M Schell(Source: Rabbi Jody Hirsh)Podcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or: http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

Torah Reading for VayeraGenesis 18:1-22:24 (Gen 22:1-24) Plaut p. 123; Hertz p. 63Haftarah: 2 Kings 4:1-37 Plaut p.149; Hertz 76In our Parasha•Abraham welcomes three visitors, who announce that Sarah will soon have a son.•In the next episode Abraham argues with God about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.•While Lot’s home is attacked by the people of Sodom. Lot and his two daughters escape as the cities are being destroyed. Lot’s wife is turned into a pillar of salt.•Out of fear that the family would not have an heir, Lot impregnates his daughters, and they bear children who become the founders of the nations Moab and Ammon.•God fulfils his promise to Abraham by granting him and Sarah a son. Isaac is born, circumcised, and raised. Hagar and her son, Ishmael, are sent away; an angel saves their lives.•In the concluding part of our parasha God tests Abraham, instructing him to sacrifice Isaac on Mount Moriah.

Names carry with them all sorts of associations: memories, hopes, dreams, and possibilities.  The names we are given and those that we choose, tell the world something about ourselves: they may announce our ethnic origin or possibly something about our social class for instance. The dreams that our parents cherished on our behalf may be tied up in the names we have been given, as too may particular family histories.  As we travel through life, these associations – these dreams and memories – may at times become burdensome, and, at others, may buoy us up as we envision ourselves a link in the chain of generations.In this week’s parashah we are told how God changed the names of Sarai and Avram to Sarah and Avraham. Before Isaac is born something fundamental about his parents is changed; through their new God-given names, their identities take on an extra dimension.Whilst it is Abraham who is called by God to go to a new land, the holy land, it is both Abraham and Sarah together who start out on this new journey, a journey of partnership, while God stakes both His claim and His protection via the bestowal of a changed name. They are to become the parents, the ancestors, of a nation that will span many generations, thus becoming the first link in a chain of tradition that links us to them. And, by taking on their name, we then become tasked with forging a further link in this chain of memory and transmission.And what about carrying the name not just of Jew, but Progressive Jew? What does that mean? For me it means pride. Pride at being part of a movement that values inclusivity rather than exclusivity. I am proud to call myself a progressive Jew and to be a part of movement that seeks to find ways of opening the door to Jews of all different colours and hues, committed Jews, ambivalent Jews and wannabe Jews, and to keeping it open, to all those who, like Abraham and Sarah, may have left their birth place and their parents’ house and are wandering looking for a home.When God changed the names of Sarai and Avram to Sarah and Avraham, he did so in preparation for making them the mother and father of a great nation, of making them our ancestors. They faced this task with great bravery and fortitude. Making their mistakes along the way, they also suffered great loss and pain, but despite this they forged the first links in a chain that has spanned many generations.  To struggle, rejoice and to give thanks – all of these are contained in the name of being a Jew.Shabbat Shalom – Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Kath Vardi) 

Podcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or:  http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

Words can hurt us because they contain enormous power. For the same reason, they can also inspire, uplift, and enlighten us. They can even create something out of nothing. We see this idea illustrated strikingly in the opening chapters of Torah. How does God create the universe? Through words. “God said, ‘Let there be light’—and there was light” (Genesis 1:3). This pattern of God speaking and creation coming into being continues. The sky, the waters, the earth literally come into being through God’s words.The notion that words can create a new reality carries over into many aspects of Jewish law and tradition. Consider, for example, a Jewish wedding ceremony. What makes the marriage a legal marriage? It is not the ketubah the wedding contract. It is not the breaking of the glass. According to traditional Jewish law, a relationship becomes a marriage when, before at least two witnesses the groom says to the bride the words, Harei at m’kudeshet li b’taba-at zo k’dat Mosheh v’Yisrael, “Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring, according to the law of Moses and Israel.” These words constitute a “performative utterance” – through the uttering of these words, a new legally-binding relationship is created.Words give us a notion of past, present, and future. Words give us a way to describe and give meaning to our bodies, our surroundings, our sense of self. This concept may seem difficult, even ridiculous. Like breathing, language seems to come naturally to us. It seems as if it has always been with us. We usually don’t pay attention to its presence, and we forget the time and effort it took to attain it. Yet, as parents of little children witness constantly the way words create new worlds of experience, learning words for different colours (for example) let children see the world, literally, in a different light. Discovering words to describe their feelings gives emotions greater depth and meaning. How might this insight work in our own lives? Understanding the creative power of words can enrich our experience of prayer. Prayer is the language of the heart. When we pray, we create, define, and repair our inner world. Prayer gives light to our inner being.More broadly, we can understand the words we speak as a means of self-creation. The language we use—and this includes not just spoken and written words, but also sign language, facial expressions, body motions, pictures and music—helps us understand ourselves and lets us create relationships with others. Our words give us the power to describe our past, define our present, and dream of our future.Shabbat Shalom Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: Rabbi Evan Moffic)Podcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or:  http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

Yom Kippur isn’t an easy day. Not because of the fasting. What isn’t easy is the affliction of the soul, the practice of going deeply into ourselves and revealing our innermost fears, doubts and insecurities in front of the Eternal. There is no more bargaining time left. No more time to negotiate with God, to present good deeds in mitigation of our sins in the hope that we will be dealt with, with compassion to receive a ‘lighter’ sentence. This should have been done in the previous 10 days in particular, and in the weeks that preceded Rosh Hashana. Everything we have done, or not done, is already recorded and known in the heavenly court.On Yom Kippur, we are awaiting the final verdict, and we must stop playing games. We know we could have done better: we have sinned; we have transgressed.There is no way out. The die has been cast, and the verdict is almost in. On Yom Kippur our fate will be decided. On Yom Kippur! On Yom Kippur we need to be honest with ourselves, and with God – and this is the painful exercise. The affliction of the soul hurts. There is no ‘waiver’ we can apply for to get away from this duty. Without exception, every one of us is standing before the Eternal, waiting for our fate to be decided upon.But as a little piece from our liturgy indicates, Yom Kippur isn’t a sad day, it is a day full of hope and joy. God is a merciful God, full of loving kindness and grace. God grants forgiveness to all who honestly ask for it. “Va-Jomer Adonai: Salachti Ki’devareicha – And Adonai said: I have pardoned in response to your plea.”And this hope, or maybe certainty, does not come out of the blue. It is something that is deeply embedded in our relationship with the Eternal, in our unique covenant with God, throughout the history of our people. The hope of gaining God’s forgiveness from transgression and sin goes way back to story of the Golden Calf.Pardoning its people is God’s response to Moshes plea for forgiveness, and thus it is the basis we use to ask for atonement on Yom Kippur. The affliction of our souls might be painful, but the knowledge that God is with us and is granting forgiveness is what turns Yom Kippur into a day of hope, and not a day of pain; in a day of partnership, a day where we renew our covenant with God.May you all be sealed in the book of life, rewarded for your honesty towards yourself and towards God. May you gain strength from Yom Kippur to master the tasks that await you in the coming year. May you feel God’s Presence within you always, and never lose faith and trust in God and his people.Gmar chatima tovaRabbi Adrian M SchellPodcast of Rabbi Schell’s weekly Sermons Tuesdays on Radio Today (10h30) or:  http://goo.gl/LsHQrY.

Only 10 more days until we celebrate the beginning of the New Jewish Year 5777. As mentioned in previous weeks, during this ‘season’ of the year, all of us are engaged in a kind of soul search; investigating whether we have sinned or not in the past year and how we can repair our relationship with others and with God.Reading the curses of our Torah portion, this soul search gets a new twist. The Torah draws some frightening pictures for those who have transgressed the covenant with the Eternal. The question is, how can we – in the light of our Torah reading – start or continue a process of repentance and find our way to reconciliation if we are in fear of God, a fear that can become so big that we feel unable to do anything? How can we break the ice between us and God, how can we fix this holy partnership if we feel threatened?Our Yom Kippur liturgy includes a Biblical verse spoken by God after Moses pleads for his People Israel: “And Adonay said to Moses, “I will forgive, according to your word – ‘Vayomer Adonai: Salachti Kid’varecha’.” Rabbinic love of grammatical whimsy stood the verse on its head and they reinterpreted the verse having God say, “I forgive you, salachti, the same way you forgive others, kid’varecha.” God will forgive our sins, following our honest attempts at repentance, but only to the degree that we forgive others who may have hurt us! If we are unforgiving, unbending, not willing to even listen to those who have embarrassed us or caused us pain, then God will be unforgiving, unbending and not willing to listen to us either!In the words of the Talmud (Sotah 8b), “The heavenly court deals with us by the exact same standards that we use to deal with others – ‘midah k’neged midah – measure for measure;’” If we are kind and compassionate, we can expect to be judged by God with kindness and compassion. If we are cruel, unfairly critical of others and unforgiving, we can expect the heavenly court to deal with us with the same qualities we’ve shown to others. As we judge others, so too, are we judged. It is to our own detriment when we forget the lesson that we must work together, live together and remain together or suffer perpetual hunger. This is the reason why we engage ourselves in renewing our relationship to God and to others – not only seeking forgiveness from God for our past sins, but also to open ourselves to others for their forgiveness or to receive theirs in return.Is it easy to seek or ask for forgiveness? If it was, we would do it all the time, spontaneously and openly. Saying “I am sorry for what I have done to offend you and bring you pain,” is not easy for the offender to say nor for the offended to accept – and yet, if there is to ever be a glimmer of hope for healing and moving toward a new tomorrow, we must attempt to actively seek out, those whom we may have hurt, and ask their forgiveness. “Salachti kid’varecha – I forgive you as you forgive me.” God will forgive our sins, following our honest attempts at repentance, and will grant us the blessings of our Torah reading.May that forgiveness and healing begin now and may God bless us all this new year and seal us in the book of life, for life, health, parnasah-livelihood and blessing.Shabbat Shalom Rabbi Adrian M Schell (Source: dordorim.org)