Making Peace with an Intimate Enemy

Parashat Vayetse, B’reisheet/Genesis 28:10–32:3

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, Ahavat Zion, Los Angeles

Genesis is irreplaceable, forming a sturdy foundation for all of Scripture and all of life.

Its portraits of family dysfunctionality provide a master class in ineffective and effective conflict resolution. Because the conflicts in Genesis find their counterparts in our lives, we do well to learn its lessons.

This week’s parasha focuses on Ya’akov’s conflicts with his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan (or Laban). Rabbi Lilly Kaufman deftly sketches this messy family constellation:

Poor Jacob is triply triangulated in Parashat Vayetzei! His boss, Laban, is not only his uncle, (his mother Rebecca’s older brother), but also Jacob’s father-in-law, Leah and Rachel’s father. Leah and Rachel are bitter rivals, Leah resenting Jacob’s love for Rachel, and Rachel wishing for children when God has blessed only Leah with fertility. Complicating this tangle of relationships is the fact that Jacob and Laban work together, and Laban is not a fair employer.

Judging Lavan to be unfair is too generous. He is actually a manipulative victimizing narcissist. He sells both his daughters into marriage to Ya’akov for the exorbitant price of seven years labor for each. And he foists one of those daughters on Ya’akov by pulling a switch in the dark, passing Leah to Ya’akov for a sexual union which will render them married. However, Ya’akov thought he was getting his beloved Rachel as a bride. Thus Lavan misused both daughters plus his son-in-law. He also cheats his son-in-law every chance he gets.

Amazingly, nowhere in Torah’s account of twenty years of his dealings does Lavan admit wrongdoing. Instead, he unfailingly deflects all blame and responsibility onto others in the family. Ya’akov and his wives would be quick to tell you Lavan is no prize.

Finally, after twenty years of abuse, including being cheated of fair wages by Lavan, Ya’akov has had enough. God tells him it’s time to pick up and leave Paddan-Aram to go home to Canaan.

He departs with his wives, his children, his livestock, and whatever riches he had gathered. Meanwhile, Lavan is some distance away from home. It’s sheep-shearing season. Three days after Ya’akov heads west, Lavan hears he is gone and takes after him. It takes him a week to catch up with Ya’akov in the hill country of Gil’ad.

What happens next provides us an excellent model for conflict resolution.

The first step of the model is the presentation of grievances, which each man does in turn. Lavan speaks first, complaining that Ya’akov took off in the middle of the night, with all he owned, and also his wives, daughters of Lavan, and his children, Lavan’s grandchildren. Lavan presents himself as betrayed and innocent.

Next, it is Ya’akov’s turn. He recounts all the trouble he has endured, twenty years of it, point-by-point. He summarizes it all:

These twenty years I’ve been in your house—I served you fourteen years for your two daughters and six years for your flock, and you changed my wages ten times! If the God of my father, the God of Avraham, the one whom Yitz’chak fears, had not been on my side, by now you would certainly have already sent me away with nothing! God has seen how distressed I’ve been and how hard I’ve worked. (B’reisheet/Genesis 31:41–42)

Lavan denies all guilt, again identifying himself as the wronged party who did nothing wrong,

This brings us to our second step. In such a conflict, it is important that neither side be shamed, even if they are offering a self-serving and even patently false version of the events. They should be allowed to protect their dignity and image. There is nothing to be gained and much to be lost by exacting a pound of flesh at such times. Lavan has to portray himself as guiltless and wronged. It is psychologically impossible for him to do otherwise. Do you know anyone like that? I think we all do!

Then comes the third step, the litigants must choose to look away from the present and the past toward a desirable future. Lavan suggests he and Ya’akov assemble a standing stone, to which Ya’akov adds more stones.

Lavan says,

“May this pile be a witness, and may the standing-stone be a witness, that I will not pass beyond this pile to you, and you will not pass beyond this pile and this standing-stone to me, to cause harm. May the God of Avraham and also the god of Nachor, the god of their father, judge between us.” But Ya‘akov swore by the One his father Yitz’chak feared. Ya‘akov offered a sacrifice on the mountain and invited his kinsmen to the meal. They ate the food and spent the whole night on the mountain. (B’reisheet/Genesis 31:52–54)

The stone marker and the meal eaten together seal a covenant between these men to work toward a better future together.

In her drash on this parasha, Rabbi Kaufman points to a further step in peace-making. We will all agree her observation matches our experience.

This step recognizes how sometimes there are toxic people from whom we should separate ourselves. This is what Laban and Ya’akov do. They make their covenant, but they also agree to remain separated.

Rabbi Kaufman puts it this way:

It may surprise some readers of the Bible that family separation is employed as the problem-solving strategy in the Jacob-Laban story. In fact, it is a common technique of dispute resolution in early chapters of the Bible. In Lekh Lekha (Gen. 13:1–13), Abram separated from Lot, his nephew and sole heir, after their dispute over grazing land, but their real clash was over conflicting values. At stake was the future of their family’s spiritual commitments: to worship God, as Abram wished, or to incline towards Sodom and Egypt, as Lot did. In Vayetzei, as in Lekh Lekha, the biblical hero is much better off putting distance between himself and a toxic family member who does not share his values.

Sometimes we must take such measures if we wish to truly preserve peace and our own sanity.

Shabbat Shalom

Scripture references are CJB. Visit Rabbi Kaufman’s drash at https://www.jtsa.edu/torah/escaping-a-toxic-relationship/

Two Sons, Two Ways of Life

Parashat Toldot, Genesis 25:19–28:9

Daniel Nessim, Kehillath Tsion, Vancouver, BC

Do you ever feel as if your life is a conflict between good and evil?

Rebekah, Isaac’s wife, was pregnant with twins, but the twins struggled within her, causing her great distress. When she inquired of the Lord, he answered her, “There are two nations in your womb. From birth they will be two rival peoples. One of these peoples will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger” (Gen 25:23, CJB).

In fact, these two children of hers would not only be rivals in terms of their relationship to the God of Abraham and Isaac; their lives would take completely different trajectories.

One would go east. One would make the Land of Promise his home.

One would take wives of the sons of Heth, the other would take his wives from his own God-fearing family.

One would be a hunter accustomed to killing wildlife for food, the other would be a pure, quiet man, living in the family encampment.

One would despise the birthright, the other would crave it.

One would be hated by God, the other would be beloved.

One was on the path of wickedness, the other of righteousness.

The two would have very different destinies, but paradoxically their destinies would always be intertwined. While the two kingdoms of Esau and Jacob were to be completely separate, they would yet have a lot to do with one another. Like it or not, their destinies were entwined, just as our present existence is intertwined with evil. It is telling that the biblical account never tells us whether they met up again after their father’s burial (Gen 35:29). Their ongoing relationship is left untold.

This is a recurring pattern in the Torah. It had already occurred with Jacob’s grandfather, Abraham, who had parted ways with his nephew Lot. Abraham would hold on to the promise and remain in the Promised Land. Lot would go east, back in the direction of the land which his family had been called from. No good could come of that. Abraham and Lot’s descendants would thereafter have a conflictual relationship. Their destinies were entwined.

So often in life, we find ourselves entwined with the evil prevalent in our world. Perhaps we are employed in a company that has some unethical practices going on. Perhaps we are governed by unethical rulers, to whom we pay our taxes. Perhaps we find that there are things in our very own lives that we are unable to free ourselves from.

We might wish that we could live entirely on a different plane. We might wish that we could be completely done with the wickedness of the world. After all, we have heard Moses’ call to Israel in Deut 30:19: “I have presented you with life and death, the blessing and the curse. Therefore, choose life, so that you will live, you and your descendants.” We have presumably made the choice for life, to live within our covenantal relationship with God, and everything that implies, including accepting his Anointed One. But somehow we find that we are unable to live that “pure and spotless” life that we have chosen.

The fact is that we live our lives in a world that is frightfully damaged by Esau, an Esau that we cannot completely disengage from. Nor would we want to, because Esau is indeed our flesh and blood and we love him. Because we care for Esau, we endure pain. Perhaps the greatest example of this is our Messiah himself, who was described as a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isa 53:3). We see that Yeshua, too, was not unaffected by the evils of our world.

Can we free ourselves from the entanglement of evil?

The key is all in the choice that we have made, and the trajectory that we have chosen.

Some have chosen a trajectory that leads eastwards, towards the lands of idolatry. There is no hint that either Esau or Lot had to make the choices that they did. When Esau chose to sell his birthright, and then in false outrage threatened to kill his brother who went to claim it, he made choices. When he chose to marry women from the children of Heth rather than from a godly family, he made choices. When he chose to move eastward, his ongoing choices were actually signs of the trajectory that he had chosen. The same goes for Lot.

We certainly have a choice. It is a choice mandated to us in the words of Moses: “choose life, so that you will live.” We are in fact commanded to make the choice for life. It is a choice that is stark. A choice between two polar opposites. As Moses put it, a choice between blessing and curse, between life and death.

It was not just in Moses’ era. Sometime in the fist century CE, Jewish disciples of the Apostles wrote a letter to the gentile groups and congregations springing up all over the region. This discipleship manual, the Didache, says right at the beginning, “the difference is great between the two ways.” The difference is indeed great. It is the difference between light and darkness, as others would put it.

What makes the difference between the two ways is where they each lead. They begin as a choice, a choice at the crossroads if you will. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be problems along the way. After Israel made the choice for life the Hebrew Bible contains a remarkable catalogue of both successes and failures. Entanglements with idolatry, entanglements with greed at the expense of the poor, for example. Following the days of Yeshua, the New Covenant also contains a striking picture of communities in some ways commendable but in other ways subject to appalling shortcomings. Strife, division, idolatry, and immorality are common issues the writers had to address.

So where does our choice of the way of life lead to? It does indeed increasingly remove us from the entanglements of the way of death.

How does this happen? How can we be sure of our destination?

Israel provides a helpful example, despite Israel’s failings to consistently follow through on the choice made before Moses.

In Jeremiah 31:35 the prophet makes a remarkable statement. It is based in part on Moses’ proclamation to Israel in Deuteronomy when he commanded them to make the choice of life, with heaven and earth standing as witnesses. In Jeremiah 31:35 the Lord speaks as the one who made the heavens and the earth. He is the one who “gives the sun as light for the day, who ordained the laws for the moon and stars to provide light for the night.” He also speaks as the one who made the earth. So, we are told that he is the one “who stirs up the sea until its waves roar.” Before these same witnesses of the heavens and the earth, it is the Lord who ensures that his covenant relationship with Israel is upheld. It should be no surprise that the New Covenant carries this theme forward for all who have made the choice to worship the God of Israel in the name of his Son.

It is thus that ultimately the faithfulness of the Lord is what gives us hope. We have made our choice for life. None of us have been completely consistent in following through. But there will come a time when we will be freed from those entanglements that would seek to drag us onto the way of death.

In Ein Yaakov, commenting on b. Avodah Zarah 1.17, there is the saying, “It is customary with a human king that while he is within the palace his servants guard him from without. With the Holy One, praised be he! it is the contrary. His servants are inside, and he guards them from without.” Thus is borne out the Scriptural message that it is not we alone who can free ourselves from the entanglements of the world, even by making that choice for life. Ultimately, it is the Kadosh, Baruch Hu, the Holy One, blessed be he.

It’s a Family Thing

Parashat Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1-25:18
Chaim Dauermann — Congregation Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT

I’m about to be a father for the first time. Our son will be born quite soon. This impending change brings a heavy feeling with it, though not a burdensome one. Sometimes I am awake late at night, with nothing but the occasional Brooklyn traffic to break the silence, and it is in such times that I can most effectively take stock of my reality.

Lately, I’ve found myself looking at life in new ways. Before, I saw my physical, mortal life as something finite that would be someday transcended, but now I find myself seeing it as something I tangible that will continue beyond me in the form of a family. My wife and I will work to impart to our son the very best of what we have to offer as people, and somehow, if all goes well, in him those things will make their way in the world long after we are gone. And what we have within us to give him represents the best of what our parents and forebears were. In this way, as I invest the best of myself in my son in an effort to fulfill my duty as a father, I will also be further stepping into my role as a son.

In ruminating on these things, I’m entering a very Jewish conversation. The phrase l’dor v’dor—from generation to generation—encompasses this idea perfectly; it reflects a continuum of knowledge and experience, the passing of Jewish tradition and values down through the ages. The key mechanism in this process is family.

The parasha for the week is Chayei Sarah, which means “the life of Sarah.” It seems ironic, at first, given that the portion actually begins with Sarah’s death:

Sarah lived 127 years; these were the years of the life of Sarah. And Sarah died at Kiriath-arba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan, and Abraham went in to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her. Genesis 23:1–2 ESV

But in a sense “the life of Sarah” is a perfectly appropriate name for this parasha. For indeed, only a generation prior to this passage, Sarah and Abraham had looked to the future with no prospects for descendants—the end of the line when it came to Abraham’s bloodline. Yet, through God’s promise to make of Abraham a great nation (Gen 12:2) and through his miraculous intervention, Sarah would conceive a son, Isaac, when it seemed altogether impossible, and through him her descendants turned out to be many, indeed.

But how do these descendants come about? How does this great nation rise up from Abraham and Sarah, through Isaac? In Genesis 24, we read of Abraham giving instructions to his trusted servant to return to his home country to find a wife for Sarah’s son, Isaac, ensuring that not only his own family, but an entire nation would live. We often hear this servant referred to as “the faithful servant,” and Jewish tradition identifies him as Eliezer of Damascus. Eliezer rates but one mention by name in the Torah, in Genesis 15:2, but his reputation looms large in Jewish tradition. So large, in fact, that the sages identity Eliezer along with the likes of Elijah as one of eight people who they say ascended to heaven without dying (Derech Eretz Zuta 1:18).

In sending out Eliezer to seek a wife for Isaac, Abraham connects the task with the covenant God made with him: “To your offspring I will give this land” (Gen 24:7). He knows that the land promise that God made cannot come to pass unless he has descendants beyond Isaac. As he invokes God’s covenant, he tells Eliezer that the angel of the Lord will go ahead of him, and help identify the right woman to be Isaac’s wife.

That brings us to this question: What is it that made Eliezer “faithful” in the eyes of tradition? Surely, he had walked with Abraham long enough to know that God could do whatever he purposed to do. Scripture records that he prayed to God upon arriving at his destination, and that he offered up a prayer of thanks upon finding Rebekah. As he trusted in God’s power, however, Eliezer did not rest on his laurels, waiting for the angel of the Lord to do the work for him. Rather, he went about his search thoughtfully and actively. Upon meeting Rebekah, he gave gifts to her and her family. He was prepared for the task, and dealt with it with deliberate care.

The Brit Chadashah has quite a bit to say on the subject of Abraham’s offspring, and on faithfulness. In chapter 3 of both Luke and Matthew, we read of Yochanan the Immerser admonishing the Pharisees and Sadducees for presuming that because they are Abraham’s offspring, they can enjoy the benefits of his immersion without repentance. He tells them, “God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham” (Matt 3:9 ESV). That is not to say that this is what God would do, but what God could do if he couldn’t count on participation. Here, Yochanan calls the Pharisees and Sadducees, and us as well, to a high standard.

So, what does it mean to be a child of Abraham? What conduct is befitting of one who would call Abraham “father?” Paul speaks to this quite a bit in his writings, and with a particular eloquence in his letter to the Romans, in which he paints a detailed portrait of the sort of life we are called to as followers of Messiah. On the topic of being children of Abraham, Paul writes:

That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring—not only to the adherent of the law but also to the one who shares the faith of Abraham, who is the father of us all. . . . No unbelief made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. That is why his faith was “counted to him as righteousness.” Romans 4:16, 20–22 ESV

But what does it look like to share the faith of Abraham, as Paul describes here? Chapters 12-14 of Romans are largely dedicated to explaining what a life of faith entails. Following this section, Paul looks to Yeshua as the greatest example of this faithfulness:

Therefore accept one another just as Messiah also accepted you, to the glory of God. For I declare that Messiah has become a servant to the circumcised for the sake of God’s truth, in order to confirm the promises given to the patriarchs and for the Gentiles to glorify God for his mercy. Romans 15:7-9a TLV

During my late nights, when I quietly contemplate my unborn son’s upbringing, my thoughts are in no way anxious, but are happy ones. As I think on the exchange of responsibilities and experiences that my son, my wife, and I will have with one another, and with generations past and future, I settle into the same conclusions that I am coming to here about this week’s parasha. It is by living faithfully, and teaching others to do the same, that we, like Eliezer, make the way for Abraham’s offspring. It is by trusting in God’s power, and by living in subjection to that power, that we ensure that the life of Sarah can continue, from generation to generation.

Greeting God the Unexpected Guest

Parashat Vayera, Genesis 18:1–22:24

Rabbi Russ Resnik

 And the Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. He lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, three men were standing in front of him. (Gen 18:1–2)

One key to impact and influence in life is: “Don’t just say it; do it.” Don’t just lecture about your beliefs and convictions; act them out. Or more simply, “Don’t just talk the talk; walk the walk!” It’s especially true in seeking to instruct and influence younger people; they’re looking more for exemplars than explainers.

          A famous discussion captured in the Talmud imagines how the Almighty might apply this principle to himself. It’s based on an imaginative reading of the opening lines of our parasha.

One of our ancient sages, Rav Hama, asks, What does it mean, “You shall walk after the Lord your God”? (Deut 13:5). Is it possible for a person to walk and follow in God’s presence? Does not the Torah also say “For the Lord your God is a consuming fire”? (Deut 4:24). But it means to walk after the attributes of the Holy One, Blessed be He. As He clothes the naked—for it is written: And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife coats of skin, and clothed them—so you also shall clothe the naked. The Holy One, Blessed be He, visits the ill, as it says, “And the Lord appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre” (Gen 18:1)—so you shall visit the ill. (b.Sotah 14a)

Rav Hama goes on to list several other acts of hesed—gemilut chasadim—exemplified by Hashem in the Torah. God doesn’t just instruct us to be kind, generous, and compassionate, but he steps into the human story to show us how.

          Rav Hama places this scene by the oaks of Mamre just a few days after Abraham’s circumcision in Genesis 17, when the old man is still recovering from the painful procedure. The Almighty visits Abraham at this moment to show us how to care for the sick among us, those who are ill in body and soul, just as he provides the example of caring for the impoverished and vulnerable (the “naked”) and the bereaved, as Rav Hama goes on to mention: “The Holy One, Blessed be He, comforts the bereaved, as it says, ‘And it was after Abraham died that God blessed his son Isaac…’ (Gen 25:11), so too shall you comfort the bereaved.”

God shows up in the midst of our human neediness and if we seek to follow his example, we’re likely to run into two obstacles.

• In some cases, we might be tempted not to show up at all, even if we care, because we just don’t know how to act around those who are suffering and so we allow ourselves to avoid them.

• In other cases, we might show up but say too much, particularly when we visit the bereaved or those facing life-threatening illness.

We try to cheer up the afflicted, or provide superficial assurances. We tell mourners that their loved ones are in a better place, or that God had a better purpose for them. We regale the dying with tales of miraculous healing (which might well be true), when they may already be focused on preparing to leave this life for the next.

Hashem’s example of simply showing up at Abraham’s tent door and saying little will serve us well as we visit the sick and comfort the bereaved. Knowing the power of simply being present for the suffering frees us from the need to figure out what to say.

 And there’s another lesson here, based on another reading of the opening scene of Vayera, one closer to the text itself.

In this reading, Hashem shows up at Abraham’s door not as a comforting visitor, but as a wayfarer seeking hospitality. He shows up with two others not to provide gemilut chasadim but to receive gemilut chasadim himself.

The passage focuses on Abraham’s generous welcome to these three strangers (Gen 18:3–8). God reveals himself to Abraham after Abraham washes his feet and feeds him a lavish meal. We’ll miss the impact of this story if we think of hospitality as a matter of tea and cookies out on the veranda. In Abraham’s world, hospitality to a stranger could be a matter of life and death. Roadways and trails were dangerous, spied on by bandits and marauders, with great distances between watering spots and sources of food. Strangers were looked upon with suspicion, and even those who intended them no harm might find it best to maintain a safe distance—just as we’re tempted to do with those we label the “homeless” around us. Back then, travel was dangerous and hospitality a great mercy, and the Lord shows up as a stranger in need. He reveals himself to Abraham as he reaches out in simple compassion.

Messiah Yeshua may be building on this passage in the Torah in his striking portrayal of how he reveals himself to us. He begins, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne,” and goes on to describe his judgment of the nations, separating them like sheep and goats to his right or to his left (Matt 25:31–33).

Yeshua continues,

 Then the King will say to those on his right, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” Then the righteous will answer him, saying, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?” And the King will answer them, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” (Matt 25:34–40)

Vayera—the Lord appeared to Abraham to support him in his recovery from bodily affliction, and we should do the same for the afflicted around us. And the Lord also appeared to Abraham as a stranger needing help, just as he might appear to us if we have eyes to see. In this appearance story Abraham provides the example, watching at the door of his tent for an opportunity to practice gemilut chasadim, gifts of kindness, to those who need them most. As we are watchful and ready like Abraham we may well encounter Messiah Yeshua himself.

Scripture references are from the English Standard Version (ESV).

Abraham: Father of Faith of the Feet

Parashat Lech L’cha, Gen. 12:1–17:27

Rachel Wolf, Congregation Beth Messiah, Cincinnati

Lech L’cha means “Go! Leave!”

In Hebrew, when emphasis is desired, the same root word is stated twice in slightly different forms. God is presenting Abraham his mission, a mission with eternal consequences.

To paraphrase a popular TV show of the 60’s and 70’s that presented agents with wildly impossible missions, God (though he does not reveal all the details), essentially tells Abraham:

Good morning, Abram. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go to the land I will show you. When you are 99 years old, you are to populate this land with a nation that will come from your body, in order that the world may come to know me and serve me in truth. Though the land’s true nature is hidden now, this is the Place where the heavens meet the earth, and from there all the earth will be healed. My eternal plan for the restoration of the world, worked out in human history, depends on you and your descendants.

Perhaps if Abraham had heard all of that he would have stayed in Haran!

Like the events of epic significance in each of the first two Torah portions, Lech L’cha, the calling of Abraham, is one of only a few major turning points in the Big Story of the Bible. This is essential to grasp, because how we understand the overall big story of the Bible (sometimes called a canonical narrative) will determine how we interpret all of the stories and details in the Bible. If we think of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the people of Israel, as a background story to the main story told in the New Testament, our theology will be off-track. As one Christian ministry leader said to me: some Christian theologies seem to see the Jewish people as merely a delivery truck to bring Jesus to the Church.

There are two aspects of this epic portion I want to bring out.

1. In my reading this year of Lech L’cha, I was struck by just how many times God appears, or speaks directly, to Abraham! At every turn, at every juncture in the road, God is personally instructing Abraham on where to go and what he should do. Yes, Abraham takes a few detours along the way (Egypt, war with Kedorlaomer) but comes back to “Go” (Bethel) to seek the Lord’s direction. Even with the advantage of all this personal revelation, Abraham, like us, is still pretty clueless about the big picture. Nevertheless, he follows God’s instructions.

2. “Go to the land” is the calling and the goal, and remains so throughout the Torah. This second point intersects with the first. We see continued instructions about the land, and then, a little later, about a covenant of flesh for Abraham’s descendants. This covenant connects with the land of their inheritance.

Why would God appear to Abram/Abraham so many times unless God sees Abraham’s actions to be of primary importance in “His-Story”?

The eternal role of “The Land” to which Abraham is called cannot be overemphasized. It is not a passing phase of “covenant history,” but the heartbeat of God’s future blessing for humankind. Here are some examples of God’s personal instructions to Abraham. Notice how the land is the central part of the instructions:

Now the Lord said to Abram:

“Get out of your country,

From your family

And from your father’s house,

To a land that I will show you.” (12:1–3)

Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, “To your descendants I will give this land.” (12:7)

And the Lord said to Abram . . . “Lift your eyes now and look from the place where you are—northward, southward, eastward, and westward; for all the land which you see I give to you and your descendants forever.” (13:14–18)

After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision, saying, “Do not be afraid, Abram. . . . Then He said to him, “I am the Lord, who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldeans, to give you this land to inherit it.” (15:1–9)

On the same day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying: . . . “To your descendants I have given this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the River Euphrates.” (15:17–21)

When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to Abram and said to him . . . “I will establish My covenant between Me and you and your descendants after you in their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and your descendants after you. Also I give to you and your descendants after you the land in which you are a stranger, all the land of Canaan, as an everlasting possession; and I will be their God.” (17:1–22)

Arise! Walk Through the Land: Faith of the Feet

Many theologians highlight 15:6, “Abraham believed in the LORD and rightness (tzedakah) was accounted to him” (my translation) as the epitome, the keystone, of Abraham’s faith, and, indeed, the decisive model for our own faith. They say that believing is what justifies us. While this is a potent and important verse, when taken out of context it distorts the powerful example of the faith of Abraham. Believing in the conceptual sense is only a part of faith. And many times, even weak mental faith can be shown to be strong when we act on it “by faith.”

Hebrews 11 makes it clear that faith in its mature outworking is faith of the feet. The men and women in the so-called “Hall of Faith” were not mystics with great conceptual belief in God. They were ordinary men and women who did their best to walk in obedience to what they understood God wanted them to do. Sometimes this involved great suffering. If we believe in our heart, it should come out in our feet.

Jacob (also called James) states this explicitly. In fact, he says (contrary to public opinion):

Was not Abraham our father justified by works [my emphasis] when he offered Isaac his son on the altar? Do you see that faith was working together with his works, and by works faith was made perfect [or complete]? And the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.” And he was called the friend of God. You see then that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only. (James 2:21–24)

Often we struggle to believe in our minds, which are subject to so many diverse influences. The key is to stop thinking that our faith should defy gravity! Try letting your faith slide down into your feet! Just start walking, one foot after the other, in the direction you best discern God’s leading. And, remember – being corrected here and there along the way is part of the journey! Your faith will be strengthened as you learn to practice foot-faith!

Scripture references are NKJV.

Lessons from Dry Ground

Parashat Noach, Genesis 6:9–11:32

Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

Parashat Noach seems increasingly sobering over the past few decades and especially this year. September and October seem to bring new catastrophic threats and concerns to the southeast portion of the USA and the Caribbean Islands. This year, as Hurricane Ian rapidly made landfall, my family like so many others held our collective breath.

The horror seemed so much more poignant since my wife and I have so many family members and friends on the west coast of Florida. Year after year they have confidently recounted to us how the brunt of the tropical storms missed them, and they did not need to evacuate. This year they did evacuate and thankfully they were safe! Others, though, were not so fortunate. In Lee County, Florida, which was hit the hardest, state and local warnings to evacuate were withheld until a day before the storm hit, way too late for so many. It is hard to know why, perhaps fear of error, concerns about panic, a misguided optimism that the storm might change path, or just a mistrust of the science that has become so accurate predicting these storms.

The biblical recounting of the great deluge records a century-long human avoidance of warnings. Of course, the Noah narrative speaks of a worldwide evil that is eradicated since humanity had become irreparably evil. So, I want to be cautious not to suggest that the proliferation of catastrophic natural disasters is that. But . . . these disasters may be due in part to humanity’s failure to keep covenant with God. In order to consider this we should look back briefly at last week’s portion, B’reisheet.

Before the Deluge

As described by the first two commands given in Genesis, humankind was given the responsibility of being the image bearers of God in this world in two distinct ways. First, humanity is commanded to have dominion in this world. “Be fertile and increase, fill the earth and master it; and rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and all the living things that creep on earth” (Gen 1:28). The second divine charge to humanity is to “care for (l’avdah, literally to serve or to worship) and guard the garden” (2:15). While this command is similar to the first command, it is actualized quite differently. In the first, humans mirror the image of God as kings, but in the second, as servants. Dominion or mastery does not suggest unbridled freedom to ravage, exploit, and exhaust the rest of the creation; rather as the only beings created in the image of God, humans are expected to be benevolent rulers, serving the creation as Hashem does.

The God of Israel is pictured as a uniquely benevolent ruler who cares for his creation. We are to do no less! It is the virtually unanimous conclusion among climate scientists that the tropical storms, floods, droughts, wildfires, and other natural disasters are the result of an irresponsible human footprint on the planet. Furthermore, that warning has been sounded for well over five decades and has increasingly been realized.

How we treat the planet is a direct reflection of our regard for others, for God, and for his creation. For Noach and family there were lessons to be learned on dry ground after the deluge. I would like to point to three of those and suggest how they might inform our going forward in a manner that I believe will be pleasing to the Creator and would allow us to be his image bearers as he created us to be.

Lesson 1: We can rise above our circumstances.

Midrash Tanhuma 5:4 asks, “What is meant by Noach was ‘righteous in his age’. It means that Noah was righteous in his age but not in others. To what may this be compared? If someone places a silver coin among copper the silver appears attractive.”

The same midrash gives an alternative understanding: “It can be compared to a jar of balsam placed at the top of a grave and gives off a goodly fragrance. Had it been placed in a home, how much more so?”

The midrash’s conflicting interpretations suggest that we are all products of our time, yet we can rise above the expectations of the age. We are not meant to be merely a reflection of current values but can be examples of a better way of living.

Lesson 2: The world was not created in a day, and neither will it be rebuilt in a day.

It took Noah 120 years to build the ark. The work before us will not be accomplished instantaneously. According to the midrashim it took so long so that men might have time to repent, even though in the end not one heart was turned.

Noach spelled backwards in Hebrew is chen, or favor. In Tractate Sanhedrin (108a) of the Babylonian Talmud we read this remarkable statement: “Noah had a death sentence sealed against him. But he found favor in the eyes of God.” In other words, but God chose to save him because of God’s own grace.

Slow and Steady, Board by Board, should be our motto.

Lesson 3: Our best will arise out of our diversity.

The rainbow is a symbol of God’s covenant with all living creatures (9:12–17). It represents all the color and contours of life. Sir Isaac Newton, who himself was a religious man and Hebraist as well as the father of modern science, observed that it is the entire range of the color spectrum that together comprises luminescence of pure light. The light of God is best seen in the diversity of humanity.

Later, God confounds language so that humankind might experience the command and blessing of filling all the earth. The diversity of languages, though sometimes a hindrance, might be understood as a blessed assistance, not a punitive measure as we often think of it.

We are made up of academics and those who work with their hands, those who think more transactionally and those who are more relational. Those who think in terms of larger, more systemic plans and those who tend to the immediate needs. We need each of these foci and therefore we can learn from each other.

After the Deluge

It is now 17 years since Hurricane Katrina made landfall. Four US presidents and eight congresses have since come and gone. In the immediate aftermath many stepped forward to help their neighbors, yet little has improved and every effort has been made by those who would shape the natural beauty of creation into vestiges of power to persuade us to keep the status quo. It is time to return to our heritage as the image bearers of the Creator and tend and protect his garden.

The Creation as a Pattern for Our Lives

Parashat B’reisheet, Genesis 1:1–6:8

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, Ahavat Zion Messianic Synagogue, Los Angeles

The first book of the Bible, B’reisheet (Genesis), lays a foundation for the rest of the Torah and the entire Bible. But beyond this literary function, we do well to recognize how this book lays a foundation for our lives as descendants of the first parents, not simply individuals, but as people born into and through families, as members of a holy people.

In all of these areas, we must not underestimate B’reisheet. It is profound, it is relevant, and it gives life to those who heed the lessons it provides. 

This week’s parasha includes the first five chapters of B’reisheet and the first eight verses of chapter six, but let’s limit ourselves to examining the first two chapters and the lessons they teach us about how we might better make our way in the world. This emphasis surely reflects the intent of Moshe when he wrote Genesis, as he was teaching an entire people, accustomed only to slavery in Egypt, to inhabit a new identity and thus make their way in the world from being slaves in Egypt, through the wilderness, to fullness of freedom in the Land of Promise.

What lessons might we extract from these two chapters for our journey through life?

1.     The beginning of chapter one pictures the situation God is addressing at the very beginning of things. “The earth was unformed and void, darkness was on the face of the deep.” God then begins making order out of chaos, separating light from darkness, waters from waters, with both the sky and the dry land appearing. What is the lesson for us?  

For each of us, from childhood on, life challenges us to bring order out of chaos. This is a manifestation of our kinship with Adonai in whose image we are made. If we want to live a rewarding, productive life, we must accept that chaos is always pressing in on us. Our life will be freer and more rewarding to the degree that we do as Hashem did here, making order in the midst of chaos.

2.     The account goes on to describe God making distinctions in the midst of creation, intending that various aspects of creation adhere to affinity with others of their own kind.

God said, “Let the earth put forth grass, seed-producing plants, and fruit trees, each yielding its own kind of seed-bearing fruit, on the earth”; and that is how it was. The earth brought forth grass, plants each yielding its own kind of seed, and trees each producing its own kind of seed-bearing fruit; and God saw that it was good.” (1:11–12 CJB)

And what does that mean for us? Just this: Much of God’s creative work involved making distinctions between this and that. We too, in our lives, must not consider all the “stuff,” the options, and the experiences of life to be an undifferentiated whole. Rather, we must learn to make distinctions, choosing this instead of that, wisely making evaluations that structure who we choose and allow ourselves to be. Making choices is inevitable, and not to choose is also to choose. As Torah will say later, “I have presented you with life and death, the blessing and the curse. Therefore, choose life, so that you will live, you and your descendants” (Deut 30:19 CJB). From beginning to end, Torah admonishes us to remember that choices are inevitable, and we must make good ones.

3.     There is another lesson for us in that section of the text, and it is this: when facing disorder and chaos, we must not only introduce order and make distinctions involving choices; we must also accept that the stuff of life is not mechanical and predictable. Life includes unpredictability. Life is not restricted to mere robotic mechanical conformity. We must learn to accept life as a risky business, more than mere material things placed like ducks in a row. We must learn to tolerate unpredictability.

4.     In this parasha we see that God created the earth and its inhabitants to be fruitful. We should order our lives so as to increase our productivity, usefulness, and satisfaction. We were created not simply to be, but to live fruitful lives, to fill the earth and subdue it. In Philippians 1:21–24, Paul tells the Philippians that he was anxious to depart from this life to go to be with the Messiah. He viewed this as the best of choices. Yet he decided that he would remain in this life, serving the Philippians among others, because that meant fruitful labor. Paul used the criterion of fruitfulness as a guide to his choices. As Torah teaches, and Paul confirms, so should we. We should always be asking ourselves, “What is the best thing for me to be doing now? And what am I doing so as to leave behind me the best that I am and the best that I know for the benefit of others?”

5.     Notice that in the created order, man was not at first created to have dominion over other human beings. We were to have dominion over other aspects of the created order, but not over one another. The idea of dominion is intoxicating to people who are energized by being in control of all that happens around them, even control of other people and of social systems. We need to remember that Yeshua cautioned against this impulse: “You know that the rulers of the nations lord it over them, and their great ones play the tyrant over them. It shall not be this way among you. But whoever wants to be great among you shall be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you shall be your slave” (Matt 20:25–27 TLV). Let us seek to be the servants of others, rather than their masters.

6.     The meaning of Torah’s teaching that it is not good for man to be alone (Gen 2:18) is not exhausted by talking about marriage. A more foundational understanding that we must not ignore lies beneath this text. Even when Adam, the first man, was surrounded by a perfect creation, with meaningful work given to him by God himself, and even after Adam has been spoken of as being created in God’s image, the text insists that man was not complete without the companionship of someone else of his kind. Even the companionship of God himself could not meet this need. This is why, only upon seeing Chava, Adam says, “At last! This is bone from my bones and flesh from my flesh” (2:23).

The lesson for us is that the good life cannot be attained simply with beautiful things, and meaningful work, and even with intense religious experience knowing God himself. For life to be truly good we must cultivate relationships with other persons. Only then, can we say with Adam, “At last!”

7.     Shabbat is the only day in which God did not create anything new, yet it remains for us a most life-giving day because balance and focusing on the Lord and our relationships is life-giving. We should not treat our lives like an assembly line. We were not created to be automaton drudges and production machines. We should not make ourselves nor let others make us into cogs in some wheel. As Paul the Apostle said, “You were bought at a price, so do not become slaves of other human beings” (1 Cor 7:23 CJB). By honoring and observing Shabbat we declare ourselves to no longer be slaves, but instead to being servants of God, who bids us to honor him in a balanced life.

Shabbat Shalom!

Simchat Torah: Beginning Again . . . Immediately!

Rabbi Dr. John Fischer, Congregation Ohr Chadash, Clearwater, FL

As a Jewish community we’ve just finished going through a time of introspection and a time of celebration. We moved through the awesome days from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur as we conducted an internal inventory of ourselves in the presence of the majestic King of the universe. Immediately afterward we’ve moved into a “season of rejoicing” through the week of Sukkot as we celebrate God’s provisions for our ancestors (Deut 29:5) as we walked with him through the wilderness journey he described as our honeymoon with him (Jer. 2:2). Now we come roaring into Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah, the conclusion of the festival cycle spelled out in Leviticus 23. As if to reinforce Rosh Hashanah as the beginning of our new year, Simchat Torah concludes our reading of the Torah (Deut 33–34) by immediately launching us into reading the Torah from the beginning (B’reisheet) again.

 So, we begin again immediately . . . not at some indistinct time in the future, but now.

 After Sukkot wraps up, Leviticus 23:36 instructs us to hold a special (“holy”) “eighth day” (shemini) commemoration of conclusion (atzeret) which then spills over into Simchat Torah. (Simchat Torah begins Monday night, October 17, or Sunday night, October 16, in Israel and Reform Jewish congregations.)

 Taking a step back and looking at the bigger picture of Leviticus 23, it’s almost as if Shemini Atzeret concludes not only Sukkot, not only the fall holidays, but also the entire cycle of festivals described in Leviticus 23. (Remember the entire chapter is read as a unit.) Shemini Atzeret is designated simply as the “eighth day” after the end of Sukkot. And yet, since our calendar is built on the seven-day week based on the seven days of creation, the eighth day would itself signal a new beginning. Appropriately, Simchat Torah immediately picks up on this new-beginning theme by renewing our cycle of readings. Additionally, Simchat Torah in a sense serves as still another conclusion, this time to Shavuot; Shavuot is the holiday that celebrates the giving of the Torah while Simchat Torah celebrates our having the Torah.

A couple of weeks ago we approached and then observed Rosh Hashanah as an opportunity to begin a new year, to start afresh with our lives with God and with those around us. Now we can use our celebration of Simchat Torah to remind ourselves of our new intentions and new initiatives as well as to start afresh following God’s guidelines in the Torah. It’s yet another opportunity for a new beginning, for a fresh start for each of us.

In this fresh start, we should take to heart the concluding text of the Torah (Deut 34:10), which serves as part of the Simchat Torah readings. This parasha reminds us that “the Lord knew Moses face-to-face.” There was a close, intimate relationship between the two. Moses had come to know the character and person of the God of the universe. He knew him to be a God of surpassing compassion, overflowing love, superabundant kindness, and unrelenting forgiveness (Exod 34:6–7). Accordingly, we need to take the time to get to know the Lord more intimately and to model those same divine characteristics towards others. It’s part of our calling as a paradigm people (Deut 4:5–8; Exod 19:5–6). But the parasha also reminds us that the Lord knew Moses. That means Moses opened himself up to God; he didn’t hold anything back from God. We should follow this example as well.

The other part of the parasha for Simchat Torah, B’reisheet (Gen 1:1–2:3), reminds us that God walked with Adam and Eve in the garden in Eden. We, too, need to see this year as an opportunity to walk that closely with God, taking the time to get to know him better, and opening ourselves more fully to him. As we begin again immediately, this is something we can aim for and build on as we move forward through the coming year.

Simchat Torah can also serve as a time of forward vision for us as a Union. Although the pandemic adversely impacted and shaped much of this past couple of years, we were able to launch and build on some exciting fresh initiatives. These are opportunities that we can build on as we move through the coming year. Over 400 people attended our virtual Tikkun Leil Shavuot. Our new president, Rabbi Barney Kasdan, and our Education Chair Andrea Rubinstein (and team) further strengthened our Messianic Educator Certificate Program. It’s readily accessible for your synagogue teachers to take advantage of. We launched the Introduction to Lay Cantorial Training program under the capable leadership of Aaron Allsbrook. This is a wonderful opportunity to raise the level of cantorial work in your congregations and throughout the Union. We birthed Dorot, a task force which Deborah Pardo Kaplan effectively led. This task force researched and compiled ways we can all more effectively function in, and be relevant to, our emerging world and to our contemporary Jewish community. Their report is now available through the Union office, info@umjc.org. We’re launching Ashreinu School, an online Hebrew school to provide bar and bat mitzvah training for our kids. And of course, we have a new president, Rabbi Barney Kasdan, and a new secretary, Scott Moore, who’ll undoubtedly bring new ideas and effectively build on what we have accomplished. So, stay tuned for other fresh initiatives we as a Union develop this coming year. To learn more about any of these initiatives visit umjc.org.

 In closing, as your outgoing president, I want to thank you again for giving me the opportunity to serve you these past four years. It has been a real privilege.

As we leave our sukkahs behind this Simchat Torah, let’s eagerly make the Torah more relevant in our lives and to those around us. And as we do so, we can more enthusiastically anticipate the time the Aleinu looks forward to, the time when the Living Torah will be among us again, and “the world will be perfected under the rule of the Lord Almighty.” Now is a great time to begin again!

Ha’azinu: Give Ear to the Future

Parashat Ha’azinu, Deuteronomy 32:1–52

Rabbi Dr. Jeffrey Feinberg, Congregation Etz Chaim, Buffalo Grove, IL

During the Ten Days of Awe, Jewish people the world over brace for an annual ritual that requires exhaustive religious activity. A surprising number of Jewish families will attend seven religious services, three on the New Year, three on Yom Kippur, and the service on Shabbat Shuvah in between. They pray hundreds of prayers, sit through lengthy services, and finally fast and afflict their souls—all in a determined effort to “work out their salvation in fear and trembling.”

The most religious understand that the phrase “May you be written in the Book of Life” deals kindly with whether your death is decreed in the coming year. By Yom Kippur, “May you be sealed” conveys the hope that you will not die. Observant Christians often apply this same idea to living an eternal life in heaven, while observant Jews wish those living an additional year on earth. But remember that Jews understand that the covenant guarantees Jewish existence for a thousand generations. The Anointed One will come before then!

Shabbat Shuvah has passed for this year. All Israel has listened to the final note of the shofar at the Neilah, the Closing of the Gates at the last Yom Kippur service. Life continues.

For the first time since the days of Joshua, a majority of all Israel is returning to the Land! Is this a turning apart from repentance? Four generations ago, the Jewish people numbered 24,000 in the Land—about 0.3% of all Israel. The following generation experienced the Holocaust. A third of all Jewish people perished. Did this genocide spur Jewish repentance or a global taboo over future genocides against all humankind? Both? Neither??

Perhaps unnoticed by the eyes of the world, the Chief Rabbis of both the Ashkenazim and Sephardim did pray together in 1945 to publicly renew the covenant: as instructed by Torah itself, they read Deut 31:9–13 to all Jerusalem to teach the community and her children the fear of the Lord. And before the following Sabbatical year (1952), the state of Israel came to life! Torah has been read after every Sabbatical year in Jerusalem ever since, but who would know? Is Jerusalem with all Israel in a process of repenting her covenant infidelity as a people?

What if the next generation does not warrant Messiah? Suppose the time for repentance ends. What if no generation warrants Messiah? Will Messiah come anyway?

Deuteronomy 32 details God’s covenant relationship with all Israel. Ha’azinu (Give ear!) is a poem in the form of a covenant lawsuit. The song details the ways Israel would provoke a just and loving God to severely discipline them. What started as building a golden calf in the wilderness would blossom into a full-blown idolatry in the Land. The covenant lawsuit stands as a witness against Israel for choosing to build a golden calf, later to build more golden calves and high places to foreign deities, and still later, for practicing the idolatrous rituals of passing children through the fire to foreign deities.

Ha’azinu, God’s lawsuit, tells us today why we, our children, and majority Israel are born in exile, pouring out our libations to foreign idols, and failing to show covenant love for God alone:

Deuteronomy 32: Ha’azinu (“Give Ear”)

Verses 1–2 Exhortation to Israel with Heaven as Witness

3–4 The Praiseworthiness of God’s Character

5–6 The Lawsuit Complaint

7–14 Recollection: Israel’s Election and God’s Care for His People

15–18 The Indictment: All Israel’s Ingratitude and Apostasy

19–25 The Sentence: Covenant Curses, Measure for Measure

26–31 The Problem: Both Israel and Enemies Lack Insight

32–35 Double Problem: Israel’s Enemies Treat Israel with Cruelty

36 The Poet: Israel Made to Suffer More Than Double Punishment

37–38 The Taunt: God Taunts Israel for Pouring Out Libations to Foreign Deities

39 The Plea: God Alone Can Deliver Us

40–42 God’s Word: Oath to Deliver Israel

43 Call for All Creation—Including Israel among the Nations—to Worship God

44–47 Didactic Poem: Internalized as a Song for all Generations to Transmit

This reading year of 2022, Ha’azinu is chanted after Yom Kippur (which is not usually the case). The accompanying haftarah, Shirat David, the Song of David (2 Samuel 22:1–51), is chanted only on days after Yom Kippur. In this way, the nation enters the new season forgiven and sanctified. What comes next is Sukkot (Booths, the Feast of the Nations). All nations that will have gone up against Judah and Jerusalem are to bring gifts on this Feast for a thousand years (Zech 14:16–21; Isa 66:20–23; Rev 20:4–6).

Reading Shirat David recalls God’s oath to David, and David’s understanding of that oath. What is powerful about Shirat David is its invincible poetic structure as a victory song:

He is a tower of salvation to His king,       

He shows loyal love to His anointed—

to David and to his seed, forever. (2 Sam 22:51)

Abarbanel tells us that David composed this song in his early years and kept it close by “reciting it on every occasion of personal salvation” (Stone Chumash, 1205). These times included life threatening situations when Saul hunted down David—God’s anointed—for a decade before the start of his public ministry as Israel’s seated king.

David had a clear understanding that God had given him an everlasting dynasty and that his seed would inherit the nations. Any nation choosing to make itself an enemy of David’s kingdom in effect curses itself to become Abraham’s and David’s inheritance. David concludes his song with words that Rabbi Saul of Tarsus cites over a thousand years later in Romans 15:9:

Therefore I praise You among the nations, Adonai,

and will sing praises to Your name. (2 Sam 22:50)

Paul knew about God’s oaths to Abraham and David, too. Why else would Paul characterize Israel as “enemies of the Gospel” and at the same time “beloved on account of the Patriarchs”? Why else would Paul cite the last line of Ha’azinu (Deut 32:43) right after citing David’s Song?

“For this reason I will give You praise among the Gentiles,
    and I will sing to Your name.”

And again it says,
“Rejoice, O Gentiles, with His people.” (Rom 15:9–10)

Paul clearly understood that the people of Israel would be singing God’s praises along with all nations, and with all creation, too!

What caused Israel to sing God’s praises in the past day of deliverance will surely cause Israel to again sing God’s praises in the day when “all Israel is saved” (Rom 11:26–28). Will all Israel be saved during Shabbat Shuvah or in the days following the final Day of Judgment?

Prayer for the salvation of all Israel is most powerful on this Sabbath day, when we read both Ha’azinu with its call for repentance and David’s triumphant song of victory after trusting God and spurning the idols of the nations. Why not call this Haftarat Yeshuah (Haftarah of Salvation)?

Should Messiah come this year, after Yom Kippur, when we read Ha’azinu and Shirat David, one can expect the whole nation to look on the one whom we all have pierced. Abraham and David will look on, Moses and the surviving nation will look on, and so will we. When the war to end all wars ends, Messiah will be coronated king over all the world. Ha’azinu is filled full in its meaning: Israel and the nations will be singing God’s praises, all creation will join in, and even the trees of the field will clap their hands.

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

Days of Awe and Reconciliation

Parashat Vayelech, Deuteronomy 31:1-30; Haftarah, Hosea 14:2-10 & Micah 7:18-20

 Michael Hillel, Chavurah Adonai Shammah, Netanya, Israel

By the time you read (or listen) to this commentary, we will be in the Days of Awe, or in Hebrew, Yamim Noraim, a time that is also known as the Days of Repentance. These days are set aside for serious introspection, a time to consider the previous year’s mistakes and shortcomings, and to repent before the sound of the shofar that ends Yom Kippur.

While much of the focus is on one’s mistakes in keeping or not keeping the commandments of God, there is an equally important focus on seeking reconciliation with others that one may have wronged in word or deed during the past year. In Mishnah Yoma 8:9 it is written

For transgressions between a person and God, Yom Kippur atones; however, for transgressions between a person and another, Yom Kippur does not atone until he appeases the other person.

This need to be reconciled before bringing one’s offering before Hashem is not only an idea developed by the sages. Yeshua taught his talmidim: 

Therefore, if you are presenting your offering upon the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar and go. First, be reconciled to your brother, and then come and present your offering. (Matthew 5:23–24)

In our world today, which is fractured and polarized over an unending multitude of ideologies and opinions, it is safe to say that regardless of our stance on such issues, we have offended and even isolated ourselves from others to whom we were once close. During these Days of Awe, we have the opportunity to reach out to those we have offended, and even to those who have offended us. This reaching out is not an opportunity to correct or change the other’s mind. Rather, it is an opportunity to offer an attitude of shalom, one that recognizes our differences while at the same time recognizing that spark of the Creator that is in each one of us, that which makes us family.

The psalmist wrote, “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity” (Psa 133:1), and Yeshua taught his disciples, “By this, all will know that you are My disciples if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). Note that neither the psalmist nor Yeshua called for complete agreement between one another, rather that we are to love and respect one another even though we are different.

As well as being in the Days of Awe, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuvah, “Shabbat of Return.” This Shabbat draws its name from the first of its two haftarah readings, which opens with, “Return O Israel, to Adonai your God, for you have stumbled in your iniquity” (Hos 14:2). The second haftarah reading begins with these words of encouragement if Israel does return, “Who is a God like You pardoning iniquity, overlooking transgression, for the remnant of His heritage? He will not retain His anger forever because He delights in mercy” (Mic 7:18). We often hear these two verses, assuming that they refer to our relationship with Hashem, broken by our transgressions and restored by our repentance. But remember, our relationship with Hashem is affected by our relationship with others.

In looking at the idea of repentance and restoration during the Days of Awe, I came across an article by Chosen People Ministries in which the author makes an incisive observation.

Most Jewish people understand that repentance is the path that leads to salvation and the forgiveness of sin, which is secured at the closing moments of Yom Kippur. Though it is difficult to explain the difference between the Jewish and Christian understanding of salvation, the Jewish community stresses forgiveness far more than personal salvation, especially as salvation is understood by most Christians. Jewish people are not as apt to think about personal salvation or a secured future beyond the grave in the same way Christians do. (https://www.chosenpeople.com/what-are-the-ten-days-of-awe/)

 When I read this, I immediately thought of the seventh bracha in the Daily Amida:

Heal us, Lord, and we shall be healed. Save us and we shall be saved, for You are our praise. Bring complete recovery for all our ailments for You, God, King, are a faithful compassionate Healer. Blessed are You, Lord, Healer of the sick of His people Israel. (Koren Siddur)

Israel has always seen Hashem as the one who took care of them in a very practical manner. Remember Hashem’s words to Israel as they prepared to enter the land of Canaan: “I led you forty years in the wilderness—your clothes have not worn out on you, and your sandals have not worn out on your feet” (Deut 29:4). Equally Hashem provided food and water for the people and the animals throughout their travels. One of the most moving prayers of the Rosh Hashanah service, Unetanah Tokef, reveals this understanding of the care of Hashem for his people.

On Rosh Hashanah, it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur, it is sealed—how many shall pass away and how many shall be born, who shall live and who shall die, who in good time, and who by an untimely death, who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by wild beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague, who by strangulation and who by lapidation, who shall have rest and who wander, who shall be at peace and who pursued, who shall be serene and who tormented, who shall become impoverished and who wealthy, who shall be debased, and who exalted. But repentance, prayer and righteousness avert the severity of the decree. (sefaria.org.il/)

It is often said that followers of Yeshua are so concerned with their eternal dwelling that they care little for their earthly one. Maybe what is necessary is a blend of the two understandings, recognizing that Hashem cares both for our here-and-now and for our eternity. During these Days of Awe, we should look for ways to be reconciled with those whom we’ve drifted away from. Equally, we should remind ourselves that Hashem is not only concerned with our eternal dwelling place but with each and every day of our lives on this plane as well.

Shabbat shalom and gemar chatimah tovah!

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