Purim—the festival of Esther—is the most light-hearted of the Jewish holidays. Perhaps that’s what leads the sages of the Talmud to ask, “Where is there an allusion to Esther in the Torah?” (Chullin 139b). They answer with a reference to Deuteronomy 31:18, where God warns Israel of exile to come: V’anochi haster asteer panai, “And I will hide, yes hide my face.” Asteer – “hide” – sounds like Esther. 

Once a year the Queen of England addresses parliament. She enters through a special door, only to be used by the reigning monarch, which leads directly into the House of Lords. She sits on her throne, turns to her steward and says “Fetch the rabble.” The steward then marches down the long corridor separating the House of Lords from the House of Commons. 

The Mishkan was the place where the congregation of Israel met with God during their wilderness wanderings. It was a place they built, which God inhabited, and where they could meet with him and honor him.

This week’s parasha may contain one of the most jarring chapters in all of literature. If you were reading the Bible in order up to this point, you would have been looking at the story of God’s relationship with humankind and especially with the Jewish people.

In the Broadway classic “Fiddler on the Roof” the main character, Tevye, ironically entreats God, “I know, I know. We are your chosen people. But, once in a while, can’t you choose someone else?” In his frustration, Tevye echoes 4000 years of Jewish experience. It would appear that being God’s Chosen People is not always all it is cracked up to be. Tevye’s little shtetl is continuously assailedby political violence, poverty and the unrelenting demands of modernity. But in the midst of all this, perhaps the greatest challenge to the village of Anatevka is maintaining their traditions in a world that demands conformity.

In this week’s Torah portion, we read what happened after the deliverance of Israel from Egyptian bondage.

Of course, we know that right after Pharaoh allowed the Israelites to leave Egypt, he regretted his decision and went after them, pushing their backs up against the Yam Suf or Sea of Reeds. You might say they were between the devil and the deep blue sea. Yet, through a major miracle, orchestrated by Almighty God, through his prophet Moses, the Israelites were able to get across the sea on dry land and Pharaoh’s armies were drowned.

In the protracted struggle between God and Pharaoh, it’s clear that the Lord is taking this thing personally: “Let my son go that he may serve me. If you refuse to let him go, behold, I will kill your firstborn son” (Ex. 4:23). These aren’t the words of some distant Supreme Being; they’re the words of our Father, who might be in heaven, but who can tangle with the bad guys on earth.

In this week’s parasha, Va’era, Moses returns to God, discouraged after a disastrous start to his campaign to deliver the Jewish people from slavery. Moses actually has the temerity to rebuke God for failing to impress Pharaoh. He tells God that not only has he brought evil on his people, but he has completely failed to deliver on his promises at all!

Every week at shul we bless the sons in our community with this blessing, as Jacob instructed us to do. (We also bless the daughters, of course, that they would be like Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah.) It’s always an encouragement to look from the bima and see fathers and mothers blessing their children. But why do we do this, aside from following the instruction that Jacob gives us? And why Ephraim and Manasseh?