The Aroma of Avraham

Parashat Lekh L'kha, Genesis 12:1 - 17:27

Dr. Vered Hillel, Israel

Hashem said to Avram, “Lekh L’kha — You go out of your country and your relatives and your father’s household to the land that I will show you.” (Genesis 12:1)

With this call, Avraham burst into history with surprising suddenness. For ten generations Hashem had been silent. He had not spoken to a human since Noah and, as at creation, the message was one of hope and blessing to humanity. Avraham’s immediate response to this call marks the beginning of his journey, through which he became the father of many nations through whom the nations of the world are blessed. There was no one like Avraham. He was a man of exemplary virtue.

So intriguing was Avraham that Rabbi Yochanan, a Tannaitic sage, inquires as to what he can be compared. Commenting on the phrase שֶׁמֶן תּוּרַק שְׁמֶךָ  (shemen turak shemekha) “finest oils (perfume) is your name” in Song of Songs 1:3, R. Yochanan explains that Abraham resembles a flask of spikenard, an oil scented from leaves, which was tucked away in a corner and its scent was not spreading. When someone came and moved it from that place, its scent began to spread. Hashem’s call and Avraham’s response were similar. He states, “It is as if Hashem said ‘Avraham you have many good works, you have many mitzvoth; spread yourself (like fine fragrance) in the world and your name will become great in the world. You go out.’ What is written after it? ‘I will make you a great nation’ (Gen. 12:2)” (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 1.2 ג).

When Avraham chose to respond to Hashem’s call to go out from his country, extended family, and nuclear family (12:1), his fragrance began to spread. But, what is Avraham’s fragrance? It includes his belief, which Hashem reckoned to him as  צְדָקָה (tzedakah, righteousness, justice, charity; Gen. 15:6), and the things he did: welcomed strangers, extended hospitality, rescued his nephew Lot, prayed, waited for a child, and when commanded was willing to sacrifice him. Adjectives describing Avraham’s character are rare in the Tanakh, but his noble attributes are implicit in the narrative accounts. This week’s parasha reveals several of Avraham’s characteristics through his relationship with Lot.

We are told that Avraham returned from Egypt with great affluence. He was rich in cattle, silver, and gold (13:1), all of which were media of exchange in commerce, and afforded a pastoral nomad a measure of security and protection. Lot also had flocks and herds and tents, which indicate that he was an independent unit within the clan, whose limited affluence posed a threat to the family harmony and cohesion. Avraham demonstrated his magnanimous and peace-loving character when, despite his being the elder of the two men and the uncle, he choose not to enforce his rights of seniority or priority. Instead he selflessly offered Lot the first choice of grazing land and watering spots. In contrast, Lot displayed his selfishness by not deferring to Avraham (Gen. 13:5–13).

Avraham’s willingness to give way to Lot demonstrates the principle developed later in Judaism that we only truly own that which we are willing to give away. The principle is true universally, as the world belongs to Hashem. He made it, therefore, he owns it (Ps. 24:1).  It is also true in a particular sense in that Hashem gave the Land of Israel as an inheritance and with it the command that, “The land must not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine , you are but strangers and my tenants” (Lev. 25:23). The principle is expressed in the commands to share the produce of the Land with the poor, release slaves and debts every seven years, and return land to its original owners every fifty years. We are guardians of property and not owners. It is only when Avraham was willing to give part of the land away that Hashem tells him the whole land would be his (Gen. 13:14 –18). Avraham demonstrates that we truly only own what we are willing to give away.

The story of Avraham’s rescue of Lot (14:1–23) provides another glimpse into some of Avraham’s veiled characteristics. Upon hearing of the capture of his nephew Lot, Avraham immediately mustered an army and set out in pursuit in order to rescue his nephew. He attacked, accomplished his goal, and took considerable plunder. On his way home he was met and blessed by Melchizedek (vss. 18–20) and then paid Melchizedek a tithe from the plunder, but Avraham refused to take anything in return.

In Egypt Avraham appeared to be fearful and evasive, but in the Land of promise he was decisive and courageous. He exhibited skill and heroism in battle. He was a military hero, but was not glorified as such. Notice that Avraham did not initiate the war, he was drawn into it through self-sacrificing loyalty to his nephew, who earlier was estranged from him, but needed his help. The lack of detailed information about the war, e.g. nothing about the size of the opposing army, weapons used, number of casualties or details about the plunder, emphasizes Avraham’s virtues of loyalty to family, the redemption of captives, disdain of material reward, and faith in the power of Hashem despite the odds.

None of us can be Avraham, but we can take him as a role model. We can emulate his actions and his characteristics by being magnanimous and peace-loving, and loyal to family and community, by not imposing our rights of seniority or priority, by being undaunted by material reward and trusting in the power of Hashem despite the odds, and by recognizing that we only truly own that which we are willing to give away. May we all be a שֶׁמֶן תּוּרַק, a sweet smelling fragrance, throughout the world, for “God . . . makes known through us the fragrance that consists of the knowledge of him in every place. For we are a sweet aroma of Messiah to God” (2 Cor. 2:14–15).

Noah, Babel, and the Scriptural Narrative

Parashat Noach, Genesis 6:9–11:32

David Wein, Tikvat Israel Messianic Synagogue

God blessed Noach and his sons and said to them, “Be fruitful, multiply and fill the earth.” (Genesis 9:1, CJB)

What are we doing here on earth? What is our main purpose in life? Who are we? Genesis develops these themes in the first few pages, gives us our origin story, and helps frame our sense of identity and calling. In fact, the basic elements of most narratives (setting, characters, plot, conflict, and resolution) are all there in the first few pages of Scripture, last week’s parasha. The most fundamental origin story is there, the foundational unfolding of creation, from which we get the building blocks of our theology, which is a kind of narrative as well. 

Hashem tells Noach after the flood, “Be fruitful and multiply.” The first instruction given to the first humans, Adam and Havah, is reiterated here to Noach and his family. In other words, the primary calling of human beings, as described in the first chapters of the scriptural narrative, is this same instruction given to Noach. The p’shat (plain sense) reading would inform us: make some more people. As enjoyable as this is in itself, this instruction has been interpreted a little more deeply, in context of the Creation narrative, to mean: 

1)      Bring the knowledge and love of God throughout the earth.

2)      Bring all things in creation under dominion of the Creator King.

3)      Steward and co-rule (in a sense) over creation with God.

4)      Reflect his goodness and compassion because we are image-bearers of God.

5)      Reflect his actions through our actions, such as (pro)creation, resting on Shabbat, and affirming the identity and goodness of creation.

Here we are starting to approach the identity and calling of humanity, or character and plot in the narrative. Conflict is there as well, the sin problem from Genesis chapter three, despite the flood designed to clean everything out. The prototype of the sin problem is illustrated in the tower of Babel, or Bavel. The humans get hold of the latest tech wonder: the brick. Not so fancy to us modern folk with our i-tchotchkes, but a big deal back then. And the humans get to work with their newfound innovation:

Then they said, “Come, let’s build ourselves a city with a tower that has its top reaching up into heaven, so that we can make a name for ourselves and not be scattered all over the earth.” (Gen 11:4, CJB)

The kingdom of self, fueled by pride, is conceived. The Hebrew for “build ourselves” has the word lanu. Perhaps we could render it: “let’s build for ourselves,” or “let’s build ourselves up.” And the lanu is repeated: “Make for ourselves a name.” Shem, or name in Hebrew, implies reputation, character, and identity. We have the same idiom in English; humanity was making a name for itself. So, let’s build our name, identity, and reputation by reaching up to the very heavens, to the throne of God. This reflects the evil promise from that mysterious serpent in chapter three: eat the fruit, and you can sit on the throne of Hashem. Reading the Bavel tower narrative in light of Genesis chapter three, we can summarize the conflict in the human story against the identity and calling we’ve already seen:

1)      Let’s become like God, not in his goodness, but to overthrow his authority.

2)      Let’s reach up to the heavens and usurp the throne.

3)      Let’s redefine good and evil in our own terms.

4)      Let’s propose a new, alternative purpose: it’s all about me, making myself great.

 The word Bavel, universally translated as “Babel,” appears over 250 more times in the Tanakh, and is hereafter always rendered “Babylon”.

Babylon, or Bavel, is used as an archetype in the Scriptures of this kingdom of self, evil, rebellion, and the rejection of God’s kingship. It shows up in the kingdom of Pharaoh in the Exodus story, in the literal kingdom of Babylon, and even in the kingdom of Israel when we get off track. The kingdom of Bavel manifests as gross rebellion against Torah, murdering of babies, willful idolatry, oppression of the poor, sexual immorality, prideful worship of self, redefining good and evil, using others in a perversion of power, and hateful vengeance.

Nebuchadnezzar, the king of the eponymous Babylon, sums it up like this: “Bavel the great! I built it as a royal residence by my power and force to enhance the glory of my majesty!” (Dan 4:30 [27]), CJB).

And so we have setting, characters, plot, and conflict. But what about the resolution? In this week’s parasha, we have the first covenant made between Hashem and humanity:

“I will establish my covenant with you that never again will all living beings be destroyed by the waters of a flood, and there will never again be a flood to destroy the earth.” (Gen 9:11, CJB)

The grace and covenantal faithfulness of Hashem are established as a promise for the first time in the narrative of Scripture. God has covenanted with us, promised us, that his purpose is not just to bring judgment and correction like a mighty flood (confronting the kingdom of Bavel) but to bring healing, redemption, and blessing: that is, the kingdom of God.

This sets up next week’s parasha, Lekh L’kha, where the redemption and resolution plan unfolds even more. In Parashat Noach, God begins to resolve the conflict of the narrative by reiterating to Noach his purpose to Adam and Havah to be fruitful and multiply, and by addressing the Bavel problem through covenantal faithfulness to Noah. Next week, we will read how God calls out Avraham (from the realm of Bavel) to be a new, holy nation. God’s unfolding plan to confront the kingdom of Bavel finds fulfillment in his irrevocable calling of the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Ya’akov to bless all the nations of the earth through them. But that, of course, is another parasha.

The Dust of Creation

Parashat Breisheet, Genesis 1:1–6:1

by Barri Cae Seif, Sar Shalom (Arlington, TX)

Then Adonai Elohim formed the man out of the dust from the ground and He breathed into his nostrils a breath of life—so the man became a living being. B’reisheet 2:7

When I was growing up, my father would often tell us children that if God had formed Adam from the dust, then we have a whole new generation being formed under our beds. We make it a point to remove dust from our homes and yet God took what was worthless and unwanted and made the most wonderful thing in creation, Man.

Creation was the most awesome event in the spectrum of time, other than Messiah Yeshua’s life, death, and resurrection. Rabbi Hertz’s commentary notes that “from every part of the habitable earth was dust taken in the formation of Adam.” It is thought that there are as many colors of dust as there are the colors of man. God created the whole human race for His own pleasure, as Revelation 4:11 says: “For You created all things, and because of Your will they existed and were created!” God made man, the whole human race, in His image: “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness! Let them rule over the fish of the sea, over the flying creatures of the sky, over the livestock, over the whole earth, and over every crawling creature that crawls on the land’” (Gen 1:26). God sculpted man from dust. Dust was perfect at the time of creation.

Man, dust at that time, received God’s breath. This is such a profound moment that just reading it in English does not capture all the magnificence of the action. “He breathed into his nostrils a breath of life”וַיִּפַּח בְּאַפָּיו נִשְׁמַת חַיִּים  (Gen. 2:7b). God’s spirit, His ruach, the Holy Ruach, the Holy Breath, enabled Adam to come to life. God gave Adam heavenly CPR. First birth. Perfect birth.

God and man had close fellowship, face-to-face communication, and all was wonderful. Man had the life of God within, and became a living being, nefesh chayah. We are told in Ecclesiastes 7:29, “Only this have I discovered: God made mankind upright, but they went seeking after many schemes.”

Yes, man was made upright, close to God, and yet man chose to go his own way. God is sovereign and yet He allowed sin to enter the world through Adam and Eve’s act of disobedience. God gave man free will. All I need to do is look at a two-year-old after telling him or her not to stick a finger into the electrical socket or even come near. What is the first thing that the two-year-old will do? Go towards that electrical socket. That alone explains this first sin to me.

Before I became a believer in Yeshua, I had no moral compass. I was dead to anything that related to God. When individuals shared about being born again, I had no idea what they were talking about nor did I care. I was lost and I had no way to save myself.

In 1980, over lunch at my cousin’s delicatessen in Dallas, two businessmen shared with me  Isaiah 53:6, “We all like sheep have gone astray. Each of us turned to his own way. So, Adonai has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” I walked into that deli lost and astray and I walked out of that deli restored to God. I became a living being, I was born again!  

Almost 38 years later, the joy remains, but there are still times that this dust, our flesh, challenges us and weighs us down. David wrote in Psalm 119:25, “My soul clings to the dust. Revive me according to Your word!” The Hebrew word davak denotes cleaving and clinging, to be joined to the ground. Life becomes so burdensome that we don’t really know what else to do. A few verses later, that same Hebrew word is used in Psalm 119:31, “I cling (davakti) to your testimonies, Adonai, do not put me to shame!” The psalmist notes that revival through God’s word, His testimonies, is the answer.

Creation was the most awesome event in the spectrum of time, and it is brought to fulfillment through Messiah Yeshua’s life, death and resurrection. As Rav Shaul writes to the Corinthians, the first man is of the earth, made of dust; the second man is from heaven.

“Like the one made of dust, so also are those made of dust; and like the heavenly, so also are those who are heavenly. And just as we have borne the image of the one made from dust, so also shall we bear the image of the One from heaven.”

— I Cor 15:47–49

If God can bring forth humanity from dust, just imagine what He can do with your life!

All Scripture references are from Tree of Life Version (TLV).

Why Read Ecclesiastes During Sukkot?

By Rabbi Barney Kasdan, Kehilat Ariel Messianic Synagogue (San Diego, CA)

Our joyous celebration of Sukkot reaches a climax tonight during Hoshanah Rabbah, the seventh day. This day is named after the custom of circling the bima in the synagogue seven times, reciting verses that reflect the phrase Hoshana—“Save us, please!” Intermingled with the joy of Sukkot is a rather sober lesson in life. Customarily, we read from the scroll of Ecclesiastes (in Hebrew: Kohelet), which is a serious reminder of the realities of life. Solomon, the son of David, shares some of his vast experience with us every Sukkot.

The rabbis note that Solomon penned his three famous works at crucial stages of his own life. Song of Songs was penned as a young man in courtship.  Proverbs contains reflections of his mid-life. Kohelet contains his wisdom at the end of his days (Midrash Shir HaShirim 1:1). If that is the case, it is striking that the scroll of Kohelet starts with the exclamation "havel havalim/vanity of vanities!" Upon reflecting over his illustrious life, Solomon summarizes that it is essentially empty! What profit is a person's work?  Generations come and go. The sun rises and the wind blows but what really changes? Simply put, there are so many things beyond our control.

This could be very depressing or it could lead us to an entirely different direction. Now it becomes clearer why we read Kohelet every Sukkot. In the midst of the joy of the harvest and material blessings, we are reminded of the frailty of life. Who can control the twists and turns of life?  The sukkah reminds us that there is a much bigger picture than even our current situation.

Additionally, Kohelet acknowledges that any innovations of mankind are rather meager in their importance.  All things toil in weariness; the eye and the ear are never quite satisfied. Ultimately, "there is nothing new under the sun."

Our society is constantly looking for new gadgets to improve our existence. The incredible advance of technology impresses many. Yet, when a hurricane or Las Vegas tragedy hits, the world is suddenly shocked back into reality. For all our advances we are still so far from Paradise. How appropriate that we meditate on the lessons of Kohelet while we dwell in our simple sukkah. Whatever our blessings and technologically advanced society, we are called to reflect on the simple realities of life. This time of year we are to get back to the wilderness experience of our ancestors. Although they had none of the modern conveniences we enjoy, were they less advanced than us today? Maybe there are forgotten truths that our generation needs to rediscover at this season of Sukkot.

Solomon goes on for chapters about the vanity of much of life. It’s easy to get depressed while reading his words here. Yet, at the very end of the scroll, Solomon summarizes his secret to living a fulfilled and purposeful life. 

“The end of the matter, all having been heard: fear God and keep His commandments.”

Even though life is fragile and unpredictable, there is a purpose. Despite the fact that all the busy activity of mankind is so meager, we are all here for a reason. Perhaps one of the best secrets of life is revealed at this time of year during Sukkot. Ultimately, all is vanity unless God is in the picture. 

How fitting it is that it was on Hoshanah Rabbah, as the festival neared its climax, and the people gathered in the Temple cried out for salvation, that our Messiah spoke out:

“Now on the last day, the great day of the feast, Yeshua stood and cried out, saying, ‘If any man is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the Scriptures said, from his innermost being shall flow rivers of living water.’ (John 7:37-38)”

Messiah came to give us that personal connection to the Heavenly Father and to a life of meaning.  The sukkah, while reminding us of the vanity of this life, also holds forth the meaning of real life. May we all have a blessed celebration as we continue to dwell in the sukkah. Hag Sameach!

Finding Shelter in a Transient World

by Rabbi Paul Saal, Shuvah Yisrael (Hartford, Connecticut)

Sukkot remembers that freedom came as the result of pitching tents over 14,600 days and honors the 43,000 meals prepared in the dessert. But more importantly, Sukkot reminds us that God is everywhere and undermines the idolatry of rootedness. This doesn’t mean that home and hearth are bad values; rather it serves as a dialectic reminder that we are first and foremost citizens of God’s kingdom, sojourners in this present reality. Our journey in the wilderness began at Passover when Hashem took us out of the land of Egypt and commanded us to eat our last meal there in great haste with “our staff in hand and our loins girded” (I am still a little uncertain and just a little scared of the alternative), an idiom which suggests that we are to be perpetual wanderers.

We look for shelter in our possessions, but they can only give us temporary comfort. We seek reassurance from our jobs, but they can't really protect us from uncertainty. We turn to hobbies, people and places to fill the emptiness, but ultimately, our souls cannot be filled from the outside.

The idea is to remind us of the fragility of the world that we occupy, a world that relies upon the sustenance and the benevolence of the Creator. This is why we add the following statement to the daily Amida between Sukkot and Passover; “Who makes the wind to blow and the rain descend”. It is wedged between two other affirmations in the prayers; “You resuscitate the dead and are able to save” and “Who sustains the living with loving kindness.” The placement creates the unambiguous suggestion that God’s provision of our agricultural needs that provide our daily sustenance is no less miraculous than the resurrection of the dead, and no less important than the care of our individual health. Therefore we are reminded that all that we are, all that we have and all that we need are in the hands of the one who created us.

This is not an absolute statement against materialism; Judaism is not a religion of asceticism. Instead the sukkah just reminds us that God will care for our needs in much the same way that he meets the needs of our souls. Maimonides wrote, “The general purpose of the Torah is twofold: the well-being of the body and the well-being of the soul. The well-being of the soul is ranked first, but the well-being of the body comes first.”

Sukkot gives us the opportunity to step back and find shelter for our souls, to fill ourselves up from the inside out and reconnect to the highest visions that we have for ourselves.

Here are six kinds of shelter we can find when we sit in our sukkahs.

1. The shelter of faith. The Hebrew root for the word faith also means to be loyal, to stay committed to something even in difficult circumstances. We believe in God's wisdom and goodness through the light and the darkness. When we sit in the sukkah we can also feel embraced by God's faith in us. Every new day that we are given God is telling us: I have faith in you. I believe that you can re-build despite yesterday's mistakes. I'm giving you a new day, a new chance, because I'm not giving up on you.

2. The shelter of gratitude. One of the reasons we sit in the sukkah is to remind ourselves of the "clouds of glory" that God used to guide us through the desert when we left Egypt. Each of us has different kinds of light in our lives that help us navigate through challenges. The light of our friends. The light of our Torah. The light of our homes. Recognize these gifts that light up your path. Surround yourself with gratitude.

3. The shelter of connection. Bring friends and family into your sukkah. Learn from others and share what you have learned. Build and nurture the connections that you have with others in your life. Feel the embrace of the chain of kindness that redeems so much darkness; be another link in that chain.

4. The shelter of authenticity. Close the gap between who you are and how you appear to the world around you. Don't be afraid to change in order to be truly aligned with your authentic values. Use the space of the sukkah to open the space within that wants to be free.

5. The shelter of prayer. Talking to God is a constant in our lives. When we are lost and scared. When we are frustrated and disappointed. When we are joyous and grateful. When we are distracted and confused. Talk to God. Prayer is a shelter we can take with us everywhere and anytime.

6. The shelter of awe. Look up at the millions of stars through the roof of your sukkah. Breathe in the crisp, autumn air. Watch the leaves turn gold and red and orange. Watch the trees teach us how to let go. See the stars teach us how to shine. Let the sukkah teach us how to find steadfast shelter rooted in God’s all-encompassing love.

How to Shake a Lulav

Sukkot begins tonight! You've built and decorated a lovely sukkah, but perhaps you're wondering what to do next. Here's a quick guide on how to begin your celebration of the most fragrant and hospitable Jewish holiday of them all: 

Jerusalem balcony sukkah

Mitzvah #1: Rejoice! 

Sukkot is zeman simchatenu, the season of our joy. All of the pilgrim festivals—Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot—are times of joy, but for Sukkot the commandment to rejoice is given three times (Lev. 23:40; Deut. 16:14-15). How do you fulfill this mitzvah? By embracing this time of rest and rejoicing, welcoming guests to your sukkah, and giving thanks to God for His abundant mercy and provision for you and your family. 

Mitzvah #2: Dwell in the Sukkah

As you enter your sukkah for the first time tonight, you can fulfill the mitzvah of dwelling in it by eating a meal inside of it. Begin your meal by reciting Kiddush over a cup of wine. Don't forget to add the blessing for the sukkah, too: 

“Baruch atah Adonai Elohenu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu leyshev ba-sukkah. (Blessed are you Lord our God, King of the universe, who has hallowed us by your commandments, and has commanded us to dwell in the sukkah.”

Next comes the Shehecheyanu (the blessing for new things and new seasons):

“Baruch atah Adonai Elohenu melech ha-olam, shehecheyanu, v’kiyamanu, v’higiyanu lazman ha-zeh. (Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has kept us in life, and preserved us, and enabled us to reach this season.)”

Congratulations, you've fulfilled a mitzvah! But wait ... there's more! The next morning we're ready to fulfill the third mitzvah ...

Mitzvah #3: Shake the Lulav

And you shall take for yourselves on the first day the fruit of beautiful trees, branches of palm trees, the boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook; and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days. (Leviticus 23:40)

To fulfill this mitzvah, acquire a lulav set, which includes the four species described, with the “fruit of beautiful trees” understood as the citron or Etrog. On the first morning of Sukkot, gather your lulav and etrog. Put the lulav in your right hand and the etrog in your left hand, with the pitom (pointy part) pointing down. Recite this blessing: 

“Baruch atah Adonai Elohenu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu al n’tilat lulav. (Blessed are you Lord our God, King of the universe, who has hallowed us by your commandments, and has commanded us to take up the lulav.)”

here the pitom is pointing up

After reciting the blessing, point the pitom of the etrog upwards (careful not to break it off) and unite it with the rest of the lulav set. Then wave it three times in each direction - east (toward Jerusalem), south, west, north, up, and down. The first time you do this, make sure to say the Shehecheyanu. 

Congratulations! You've just fulfilled another mitzvah. Remember to wave the lulav every morning for the rest of Sukkot (ask your local Messianic rabbi if it's your community's custom to abstain from waving the lulav on Shabbat).  

UMJC Rabbinic Counsel Rabbi Russ Resnik

Why does God ask us to engage in this funny ritual?

Rabbi Russ Resnik: "One midrash says that the fragrance of the four species represents knowledge of Torah and the fruit of the different species represents good deeds, thus portraying four types of Jews: the etrog is a fruit with fragrance, signifying those godly Jews who have both knowledge and good deeds; the palm has fruit and no fragrance, representing those with good deeds but no knowledge of Torah; the myrtle has fragrance (knowledge) and no fruit (good deeds); and the willow has neither. The four types are bound together and extended in praise before the Lord, representing all Israel united in acknowledging the true king and giver of life. (Vayikra Rabbah 30:12)

"Another midrash compares the etrog to the heart, the palm to the spine, the myrtle leaves to the eyes, and the willow leaves to the lips. And so we each unite our soul in giving praise to the Lord, who is the source of all (Vayikra Rabbah 30:14). Waving in all six directions underlines the completeness of our worship, and waving three times in each direction yields the number 18, which signifies chai, or life, in Hebrew. We add to the four usual directions by waving the lulav set upwards toward the heavens, and downward, as a final direction, signifying our hope for blessings to descend from on high. After this extended blessing, the whole assembly recites Hallel (Psalms 113–118, all or part), while those with lulav sets continue to raise them up with joy."

“Halleluyah! Praise, O servants of Adonai, praise the Name of Adonai. Blessed be the Name of Adonai from now and forever. From the rising of the sun to its going down the Name of Adonai is to be praised. (Ps. 113:1–3, TLV)”

How to Build a Simple Sukkah

by Rabbi Russ Resnik, UMJC Rabbinic Counsel

Immediately after Yom Kippur is the time to build your Sukkah, in preparation for Sukkot, which begins this year on Sunday, September 23, at sundown. This gives you only three more days to build, but don’t worry—a kosher sukkah is supposed to be makeshift and flimsy. All you need is a structure shaped like one of the letters in the Hebrew word SUKKAH:

One of the walls (but no more) can be your house or another existing building. Sink corner posts in the ground, set them in cinder blocks, or prop them up any way you want. Nail boards, panels of plywood or particle board, fabric, or whatever you want, to your posts. The roof can be flimsy also; you need to be able to see the stars through it to be truly kosher. Make a rough frame of 1X boards, or something similar, and cover it with leafy branches. Size is up to you, as long as you can fit in a table and a few chairs. Hint: don’t make it too big or it will be hard to keep the roof from sagging.

Once you get your Sukkah up, make sure that it won’t fall down on your head. Then you can decorate it with pictures of Jerusalem, paper chains, hanging fruit, flowers, branches, and so on. Put in a little rug to make it cozier. Bring in an extension cord so you can have light at night. Remember that it might rain (especially since we pray for rain during Sukkot), so protect articles that could get damaged.

So, now it’s time to dwell in your booth already! Tradition says that if you eat your meals in the Sukkah, you are fulfilling the commandment. Some hardy souls sleep in their Sukkah also.

Here’s what you need for an 8 X 8 sukkah, based on the three-wall design above:

4          8 foot 2 x 3 or 2 X 4 boards

8          cinder blocks to prop them up, or use longer boards and sink them a foot or so into the ground, or get three additional boards and connect them together at ground level to make a free-standing structure, leaving the front of the sukkah open

10        1 X 2 boards: two are screwed or nailed into the heavier boards to form each of three sides, and four are laid across the top and attached

3          8’ X 8’ panels of cloth, light plywood, bamboo, etc. for sides, to be attached to 1 X 2s

And finally, plenty of tree trimmings, branches, or bamboo, cornstalks, etc., for the roof.

Chag sameach! 

Praying for Rain

by Rabbi Isaac S. Roussel - Congregation Zera Avraham, Ann Arbor, Michigan

We tend to think of the High Holy Days as its own unit, and that is true. But really it is a distinct segment of a whole season that begins with Rosh Chodesh Elul, the first day of the month of Elul, and ends with Sukkot.

Traditionally, every day during Elul, people recite Psalm 27. It expresses our desire to be in deep communion and closeness to Hashem. Verse 4 says “Achat sha’alti me’et Adonai . . . One thing I ask of the Lord and this is what I desire, to dwell in the house of Adonai all the days of my life.” And the following verse contains God’s response, “He will surely give me shelter . . . he will hide me in his home.” The word “shelter” here is sukkah. Thus the ultimate goal of this whole season is to dwell with Hashem in his sukkah. This brings us joy.

But we must have done the hard work of Heshbon ha-Nefesh, self-introspection, and Teshuvah, repentance, during the Ten Days of Awe before we get there.

In Parashat Haazinu, we have a song that Moses sings to the people on his last day on earth. One of the opening verses is, “My lesson will drip like rain; my word will flow like dew; like storm winds on vegetation and like raindrops on grass” (Deut. 32:2). Rashi says that this points to Torah as the life-giving rain. But Rashbam points out that the word used for drip (ya’arof) can also mean “break.” He likens it to the egla arufah, the calf that has its neck broken to atone for an unsolved murder. (The word has the sense of falling down and so it also came to be used for bending something down to break it.) Rashbam, therefore, considers Torah as something that breaks us open, preparing us to receive the rain. This is similar to another comment that Rashi makes on this passage. He states that just as storm winds strengthen the grasses, so too Torah strengthens us as it challenges us.

This is what we must go through during the Ten Days to get to the sukkah. We must let the liturgy and the Torah readings break us open. It is a time when we look deep inside ourselves and ask God to reveal any hidden sins in our lives. How have we hardened our hearts towards God or others? We allow the “storm winds” to batter us because we know that it will strengthen us and bring us new life and new growth.

We resume praying for rain at Sukkot. Having done the hard work of “breaking open” during the Days of Awe, let us sit and soak in the life-giving rains of Torah and God’s blessings. The sukkah must have at least three walls. We can envision the walls of the sukkah as the body and arms of God embracing us as we dwell there. May we truly find the desire of our heart to dwell in the house of Adonai, and to be hidden in his home. May we experience Hashem’s forgiveness and inner healing. May we all find new growth in our relationship with God and others in this upcoming year.

Hag Sameach—a joyous Sukkot!

Yom Kippur: Looking forward

by Rabbi D. Friedman, Jerusalem

Yom Kippur has a solemnity that is strong. The entire Jewish world halts for 25 hours or more, and is engaged in either our prayers and readings in synagogue, or for the more secular, staying at home and ceasing regular activity. Everyone abstains from eating. Only when the shofar sounds to seal Israel’s prayers for the day, does the heavy solemnity lift itself off and away. Many people feel a profound sense of relief then, as keeping away from food and focusing all day on petitions to Heaven feels incredibly intense, both physically and emotionally.

In history, during the late 2nd Temple period, Yom Kippur also entailed some anxious moments, as the public crowds that gathered in Jerusalem at the Temple courts waited word on whether the goat’s thread had turned to white (from red), indicating that God had accepted Israel’s petitions for that day, and had forgiven their sins.

Our people have carried, and still do, a sense of heaviness and solemnity into Yom Kippur. This may not be the theological ideal, but it is my observation and it is our experience. I imagine most of you can relate with my point here.

I want to look for just a second into the future. What will Yom Kippur be like when Messiah ben David returns home to Jerusalem? I imagine we don’t think of this question very often. Yet the answer can both surprise us, and perhaps lend some light to part Yom Kippur that we miss.

So declares Adonai of the Heavenly Armies: “The fast of the fourth (month), and the fast of the fifth (month), and the fast of the seventh (month), and the fast of the tenth (month) will be for rejoicing and joy, and for good appointed times; so love truth and peace.” (Zechariah 8:19, my translation)

Torah interpretation usually looks at the fast of the fourth month as the fast of the 17th of Tammuz; the fast of the fifth month is the ninth of Av; the fast of the seventh month can either be the Fast of Gedaliah or Yom Kippur. And the fast of the tenth month is the tenth of Tevet. Typically, the idea is that when the Temple is rebuilt, these days of mourning and fasting shall become days of joy and celebrating. The Rambam (d. 1204), the renowned and prolific Bible commentator, wrote that these fast days will be days of celebration in the days of the Messiah. Certainly Zechariah 8:19 would have been understood to refer to the future, since in Zechariah’s day, no changes were conferred to these times.

Additionally, may I bring out that the Hebrew word mo’ed is used here to identify these times? According to Leviticus 23, Yom Kippur is indeed a mo’ed, and it is in the seventh month (today’s month of Tishrei).

Additionally, Isaiah chapter 58 appears to be addressing Yom Kippur, when we read:

Why should we fast, if you don’t see? Why mortify ourselves, if you don’t notice?’ “Here is my answer: when you fast, you go about doing whatever you like, while keeping your laborers hard at work. Your fasts lead to quarreling and fighting, to lashing out with violent blows. On a day like today, fasting like yours will not make your voice heard on high. 

“Is this the sort of fast I want, a day when a person mortifies himself? Is the object to hang your head like a reed and spread sackcloth and ashes under yourself? Is this what you call a fast, a day that pleases ADONAI?

“Here is the sort of fast I want—releasing those unjustly bound, untying the thongs of the yoke, letting the oppressed go free, breaking every yoke, sharing your food with the hungry, taking the homeless poor into your house, clothing the naked when you see them, fulfilling your duty to your kinsmen!” 

Then your light will burst forth like the morning, your new skin will quickly grow over your wound; your righteousness will precede you, and ADONAI’s glory will follow you. Then you will call, and ADONAI will answer; you will cry, and he will say, “Here I am.” If you will remove the yoke from among you, stop false accusation and slander, generously offer food to the hungry and meet the needs of the person in trouble; then your light will rise in the darkness, and your gloom become like noon. (Isa. 58:3–10, CJB)

Why does Isaiah 58 appear to address Yom Kippur activities? This chapter centers on fasting and our ancestors’ behavior during fasting, and is punctuated with what God expects our fast day(s) to entail. Indeed, Isaiah 58:3–7 is included in our Yom Kippur liturgy! Thus, we do have a strong connection here. One contemporary rabbi stated: “I think the speech (Isa. 58:3–7) was actually given as an interruption of a Yom Kippur service, or at minimum is deliberately written as if it were.”

Given the ideal that Isaiah teaches us regarding days of fasting, I wonder if, in the days of Messiah’s return, Yom Kippur will change. Instead of being a day of total solemnity and supplication, will it become a day of serving those in a position of need, and a day of joy . . . even if we fast? On the other hand, Messiah Yeshua taught “when the bridegroom is present, there is no need for fasting” (cf. Mt. 9:15). Perhaps the fasting element of Yom Kippur will not exist in future days. On the other hand, we are instructed in the Torah l’anot to “afflict our souls” on Yom Kippur (Lev. 16:20), meaning to make the day difficult, which we’ve always interpreted as fasting. This is Torah from Mt. Sinai, which Messiah will not cancel, but will demonstrate and establish, as he did in the 1st century.

May we enter this Yom Kippur and experience what it was created to be; may we not be overwhelmed by solemnity, but may we able to reach out to others on this very day, as Isaiah wrote.

The Call to Remember

A D’rash for Rosh Hashanah, by Rabbi Paul L. Saal

Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, Bloomfield, CT

If you look in Torah you will not see the name for this holiday as Rosh Hashanah. It is called Yom Teruah, or the day of the blasting of the shofar. This is altogether appropriate since the blowing of the shofar, many times over, is the liturgical highlight of the holiday.

But tradition has given this day several other names that express some of its important meaning. One of those names is Yom HaZikaron, or the Day of Remembrance. As the shofar blows, we are asked to recall several things of which the blasts are evocative, for the three major sounds of the shofar recall three big ideas that we are to remember.

Remember creation

The primary sound of the shofar is the tekiah, a long straight blast, nine beats long. It is a grand sound that was originally used for proclamation and for coronation. Tradition holds that Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of creation. The tekiah reminds us that the Holy One who himself laid out the heavens and the earth is sovereign over creation, so that we can be kept from idolatry, fear, and self-centeredness. The awareness that he sits upon the throne of the world means that we don’t have to bear the weight of that world on our own shoulders.

God remembers us

The second sound is the shevarim, a moaning sound expressed in three broken blasts, each three beats long. The modulated wail of the shevarim sounds almost like the bleat of a suffering animal. It serves as a reminder of the suffering in the world. The world is in a state of disrepair. Despite our very best efforts there is a potentially disheartening reality that the present state of the world does not seem to be improving. Our hope therefore is not in our own efforts and abilities alone, but rather in the faithfulness of the Sovereign. We cry out to him in all of our prayers to remember us, and out of our desperation comes the source of our hope. Our fervent belief that God will remember us ignites the spark of the divine deep within us.

Remember teshuvah

The third and final category of sounds from the shofar is teruah, a series of nine staccato beats that sound an alarm within us. The theme of Isaac’s akeida or binding comes to mind; the quintessential example of human sacrifice out of obedience to the greater and ineffable purposes of the sovereign God. Isaac’s trial reminds us of Yeshua’s akeida, and his ultimate sacrifice for us. We are also reminded of our own impending trial, whereby during the yamim noraim, the ten days of awe, not only our own fate hangs in the balance, but the fate of the entire world. According to Maimonides,

Everyone should consider himself throughout the year as exactly balanced between acquittal and guilt. So, too, he should consider the world as equally balanced between acquittal and guilt. For if he commits one additional sin he tilts the scale of guilt against himself and the world and brings down destruction. If he performs one good deed, he swings himself and the whole world into the scale of merit and causes salvation and deliverance to himself and his fellow men.

Teruah evokes a sense of urgency deep within, calling attention to the imminent danger that surrounds us. The world is not only in need of divine restoration, but the need is so immediate that we cannot help but get involved, we cannot help but follow the example of Yeshua. The sound of the teruah will not allow us to anesthetize ourselves with whatever idolatry du jour a debased culture wishes to throw at us. As a holy nation of priests we have the privilege and responsibility to partner with God in the repair of our world. We do not withdraw from the world and circle the wagons, but rather we recognize the common experience we share with all people, including the joy, sorrows, hopes, pains and delights. We uphold the worthiness of involvement in the spheres of medicine, the arts, politics, humanitarian endeavors and all such society building efforts. We of course want to be sensitive to the moving of the Ruach, and our spiritual gifting, but we want to avoid any superficiality or excess that would detract from the present reality of the Spirit’s supernatural disclosure.

We have a great hope that Hashem will restore all things to perfect order. This does not mean that we should sit back and fail to be concerned with the state of the world. Nor does it preclude any responsibility on our part; in fact it demands participation from us. In the words of rabbi Tarfon from Pirkei Avot, “You are not responsible to complete the task, but neither are you free to desist from it.” Kefa even suggests that our righteous acts can hasten the day of God’s redemption (2 Peter 3:12).

The Great Remembrance

Remembrance is a two-way street. We remember the great deeds of God as well as his many promises to us. But we also cry out for him to remember us, not with the drone of pessimism and a whimper of defeat, but with the voice of expectation because we have a great and a faithful King, and the goodness of his Kingdom is quickly coming for those who pursue it diligently. The last blast of the shofar is the tekiah gedolah, or the great tekiah. If tekiah is the sound of coronation, the voice of pregnant expectation, then the great tekiah is the voice of assurance and confidence. It is the regal sound that announces the reality that is greater than our present reality, a time, a place, a world saturated in the glory of our Creator. This is not the fictitious utopia of frustrated existentialists, but a glimpse through the looking glass at a certain future, a perfect peace that we invite to invade our present world.

This Rosh Hashanah as we hear the shofar as we are commanded in Torah, let’s not fail to remember. Remember our Creator, and remember that he remembers us. May the God who remembered Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, remember each of us, and write us down for a good year!