Each year, we gather around our tables, surrounded by friends and family, to recount the tale of our ancestors' miraculous deliverance from Egyptian slavery. As we unpack our Haggadot and look to the classical words of the rabbis and sages of old, it is worth stopping for a moment to examine the very first passage of the Seder ritual.
Throughout antiquity, most people assumed that illness was a punishment from the gods. Incensed at some infraction of ritual law, pagan gods were forever visiting terrible diseases, sometimes to the point of death, on their worshipers.
In fact, this tendency to attribute divine disfavor to any manifestation of sickness runs rampant in our society as well (although only for the illness of someone else!).
"Real men don't eat quiche," proclaims one bumper sticker. "Would you kill flipper for a tuna sandwich?" inquires another. Both messages assert a connection between what we eat and who we are. Our community and our character are reflected in our choices of food. Vegetarians, macrobiotics, those who limit their cholesterol intake, those who won't eat red meat, all are asserting that we are, indeed, what we eat. While concerns of physical health remain the predominant factor in guiding contemporary people's diet, the link between eating and identity remain strong
For the second week in a row, our Torah presents a detailed account of the sacrifices offered first in the Mishkan in the wilderness and later in the Temple of Jerusalem. Sin offerings, guilt offerings, burnt offerings, and thanksgiving offerings, each with their own regulations and procedures, claim Jewish attention as the central means for Biblical Jews to atone for wrong-doing and to renew themselves as children of God.
"Rabbi, I never joined a synagogue, and we don't practice our religion at home, but I've always had a warm feeling for Judaism in my heart. I know that I've always been a good Jew." Over and over again, in countless variations, Jews rehearse these lines before rabbis, federation volunteers, and anyone else who holds a position of Jewish responsibility: "I don't show support in any visible way, you can't tell I'm Jewish by any practice in my life, but all of that means nothing compared to the powerful emotional connection I nurture inside. Deep down, I'm Jewish"
Jewish education forms the backbone of our communities. We assure the community of vitality and endurance through the Hebrew studies of our children, the outreach programs for those considering conversion, and the continuing education programs for other seeking adults. And those programs need our support. Consider the added reading in today's Torah portion for Shabbat Shekalim.
One of the arguments separating different contemporary communities of Jews is the contention about who (or Who) wrote the Torah. Is the Torah the direct transcript of the words of God to Moses at Sinai, so that each and every word recorded in that book is the speech of God literally? Or is the Torah a human book, remarkable perhaps, but human nonetheless?
Parashat Tetzaveh uncovers a lengthy description of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle) and the sacred garments of the Kohanim (the Priests) who will minister there. At the end of that description, the Torah explains that the purpose of the Mishkan is, from God's perspective, that "there I will meet with the Israelites, and it shall be sanctified by My Presence." So far, there is nothing remarkable about this passage. Many generations of commentators have noted, in the words of the Talmud, that the purpose of the mitzvot found in the Torah is to refine humanity. Conse
Every February, Americans send each other cards with fat little winged kids and big red hearts. The kids flutter around, shooting silly looking arrows, while the cards often float on boxes of chocolates or bouquets of flowers. Valentine's Day is not only an annual celebration of romance, it's also a big industry, "when you care enough to spend the very best."
Our society offers an array of temptations to titillate every taste. Sex, money, power, fame--all beckon and entice. We are so accustomed to the corruption of our leadership that we are no longer surprised when a politician is caught in a restroom or in his office with a teen intern or page, or when a famous televangelist is found in a hotel room with a prostitute. Our newspapers routinely inform us of legislators who accepted bribes or who intervened on behalf of disreputable but wealthy supporters.