Category: Shmot

The setting: Egypt, in the most intense period of Jewish slavery. The conversation: Between G-d and Moses. The purpose: To create a plan for how G-d, through Moses, will bring the Jewish people to freedom. The obstacle: Pharaoh, who is holding the Jewish people hostage and will not let them go easily.

Before Moses and Aaron even approach Pharaoh, G-d already states “But I shall harden Pharaoh’s heart” and “Pharaoh will not heed you” (Gen. 7:3-4).  Soon after this conversation, Moses and Aaron meet Pharaoh in person and match wits as both Aaron and Pharaoh’s sorcerers turn their staffs into snakes. As Pharaoh and his court watch, Aaron’s snake swallows the other snakes, visibly demonstrating that the might of the Jewish G-d is superior. And yet, as G-d predicted, Pharaoh is unmoved: “The heart of Pharaoh was strong and he did not heed them, as Hashem had spoken” (Gen. 7:13).

Read the full article at The Times of Israel

It may be the middle of January in the year 2020, but in shul this week, we are sliding back into Egyptian slavery. Genesis, with its cosmic beginning, family dramas, and covenantal narratives, has come to an end far too soon, and we find ourselves facing the mesmerizing if challenging tale of our national origins. Here it is again: the sudden, crushing oppression, the sighs and gasps of Israelite consciousness, our emerging leaders, the terrifying plagues, God’s might in full force, the hasty exit in the middle of the night. And as with all stories to which we return, there is newness within the familiarity, old ways of reading interlaced with new possibilities. For we are not shaped by the same conditions as we were last year. This year, we may be drawn to new aspects, find ourselves thinking about different elements and flashpoints than before. And so it goes.

But this is not a story like any other. It is not simply a tale of our national origins, an epic account of how we came to be. The exodus story is our container as a people, its contours holding the shape of our essence, our mission, the way we ought to be in the world. Telling this story is mandated by the Torah, it is an imperative. Each year, crowded around our scrubbed down dining room tables, we gather to teach and reteach, listen and listen again, trying our best to inhabit the story, make it our own. The distant past, our ephemeral present, and the unforeseen future fuse through our efforts. As we read, “In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see himself as if he left Egypt..” There is no completion in our telling, no having done it well. We will come back again to it again next year.

Read the full article on The Times of Israel

It’s no accident that the artist who built the Tabernacle was the grandson of the man who died trying to prevent the golden calf

https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/betzalel-grandson-of-chur/

The biblical women influenced the biblical men, first to sin and then in redemption, with the divine promise of equality moving ever closer

https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-women-did-not-contribute-to-the-golden-calf/

Seams and edges are the picture frames of our lives. We build them to help us locate our center through measuring from the circumference. It’s the seams that border our vision and delineate all that is directly connecting us to our core. As they don’t say in Hebrew, but probably should: השלווה בשוליים (ha-shalvah ba-shulayim) — tranquillity lies in the margins, in recognizing and welcoming the edges of our being, where our boundaries are. That’s where Tetzaveh takes us.

In Parshat Tetzaveh, the edges of substance play an integral part in building a mishkan (tabernacle) and a human central unit for the focussing of Gd’s presence in our world. Divided into three main parts, and bookended by the boundary-less light of the menora and fragrance of the incense, Tetzaveh tangibly examines what folds and creases we lay close to our hearts, and what it means to live on the edge of holiness.

Read the full article on the Times of Israel

Which one verse in the Torah summarizes what Judaism is all about? A midrash quoted in the Ein Yaakov offers several different answers to this question. Ben Zoma suggests, “Shema Yisrael,” the basic statement of faith said every day. Ben Nanas maintains that “Love your neighbor as yourself” is a more inclusive verse, encompassing all of the values of interpersonal relationships. But Shimon ben Pazi says that the pasuk that sums it up the best is Exodus 29:39, where we are commanded to bring the korban tamid, the daily offering, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. At first glance, this is a shocking suggestion — how could one possibly suggest that this mitzvah encompasses everything?

In Parshat Terumah, we begin the detailed description of the building of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle) and all of its vessels. The main event in the Mishkan was the offering of the korbanot, the sacrifices offered on the altar, some for special occasions and some brought as part of the daily routine. The korban tamid was brought twice every day without fail — weekday or Shabbat, holiday or fast day, rain or shine. What is the message of this korban that makes it so central to Judaism, according to Shimon ben Pazi?

Read the full article on the Times of Israel