When I first looked at this week’s parshah, I saw it was about leprosy and I thought to myself as an infectious diseases doctor,” Finally, something I can understand.” We learn about the metzora, a person suffering from a skin affliction named tzara’at, which is inaccurately translated as leprosy and has nothing in common with the infectious disease I learned about.   If a person was declared a leper by the priests, the public health needs of the community were made paramount and the person was placed outside the community until fully healed. This may be one of the first examples of social distancing. The person was considered ritually impure and in danger of contaminating the camp both physically and spiritually.  The sages identify tzara’at not as an illness but as a punishment for the specific sin of lashon hara which is evil speech. There is no direct commandment against evil speech in the Torah but there is a prohibition against gossip:” Do not go around as a gossiper among your people.”  Gossip is one example of evil speech. The sages go to remarkable lengths to emphasize the seriousness of evil speech. It is, they say, as bad as all three cardinal sins together – idol worship, bloodshed, and forbidden sexual relations.

The word metzora is interpreted by the rabbis as an acronym for motzi shem ra, the one who brings forth an evil name. In other words, one who slanders or gossips is punished with this affliction. As mentioned, Jewish tradition takes gossip very seriously. The Talmud teaches that to slander or embarrass someone in public is like shedding a person’s blood. So, the rabbis believed that slander and gossip deserved a severe punishment that included not only the skin affliction, but the subsequent separation from the community.  The public castigation that the metzora suffers is a powerful warning for us to” guard our tongues.” It was with words that God created the world, and our words have the potential to build, create, sustain life and human dignity, or be a source of pain and destruction.

Tzara’at might not operate in the same way as the infectious diseases which we are familiar with today, but remember part of the treatment for tzara’at was isolation from the community. While this precaution may have arisen from the desire to prevent the spread of a contagious disease, it undoubtedly left the metzora feeling emotionally, as well as physically, alone. Being separated from the community and from God enables the one who gossips to think about the effects of his/her actions and to work on changing.  This separation is a punishment that eventually brings about healing and purification

When cured of his illness, the metzora is then permitted to rejoin the community, but the period of isolation may have left him angry and withdrawn.

We now know what it feels like to be separated from our community. We are sheltering in place thanks to the corona virus. However, unlike our ancestors, we have our spouses, TV, computers, home delivery services, and Zoom conferencing. But despite this, we still feel isolated, with many feeling anxious, depressed and angry, similar to the metzora.  We are also experiencing fear: fear for our health and a fear of the unknown.  Perhaps we could use this time to reflect on how we might better ourselves.

Very few people would spread an infectious disease on purpose. Infections can spread naturally in the course of human interaction, often before the disease carrier shows any symptoms of being sick, again like the Corona virus. On the other hand, gossip and evil speech are the result of people consciously and frequently enthusiastically sharing information with others.

Gossip plays a very significant role in human society. Information spreads throughout the human grapevine at an amazing speed, often reaching almost everyone in a community. Or worse, one click on a computer can send the message to hundreds or even thousands of people instantaneously. Moreover, rumor tends to be extremely stubborn: once spread, it is nearly impossible to erase it.

It is interesting to me that Rabbi Yisrael Meir HaKohen (1838-1932) wrote about gossip as a chronic infectious disease.  “Those who listen to slanderous gossip are just as guilty as the tale bearers. Repeated use of the evil talk is like a silk thread made strong by hundreds of strands. The foul sin of talebearing often results in a chain of transgressions. Leprosy was regarded as a punishment for slander, because the two resemble each other: they are both slightly noticeable at the outset, and then develop into a chronic, infectious disease. Furthermore, the slanderer separates husband from wife, brother from brother, a friend from friend; he is, therefore, afflicted with the disease which separates him from society. One sinful Jew can do harm to all his people, who are like a single body sensitive to the pain felt by any of its parts.”

The experience of being removed and separated from the community motivated men to cease acting selfishly and begin to put the needs of the community had of their own. While selfishness leads to a kind of isolation, acts of sharing and generosity cultivate a sense of belonging and inclusion.

Metzora contains a cautionary tale – a reminder of the power of language. Language allows us to communicate with others and share with them our fears, hopes, loves, feelings, and intentions. Speech allows us to convey our inwardness to others. It is a very heart of the human body.

When we speak disparagingly of others, we diminish them, we diminish ourselves, and we damage our community.

May we free ourselves from gossip and hurtful speech and continue to support each other and our community.  I look forward to the day when we end our isolation and I can see all of you in person.

In parshah Terumah, God says to Moses,” They shall make for me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell amongst them.” On the summit of Mount Sinai, Moses is given detailed instructions on how to construct this dwelling for God so that it could be readily dismantled, transported and reassembled as the people journeyed the desert.

In fact, a sizable portion of the book of Exodus is devoted to the construction of the sanctuary built by the children of Israel in the desert. The Torah, which usually is so sparing with words that many of its laws are contained within a single word or letter, is uncharacteristically elaborate. All in all, 13 chapters are devoted to describing how fifteen materials, representing a cross-section of animal, vegetable and mineral resources of the earth, were fashioned into this edifice dedicated to the service of God and the training of the Kohanim who were to officiate there. It is said that the Israelites took some of the materials they used in building the golden calf to now build the Mishkan.

The building of the Mishkan is the Israelites first great constructive and collaborative act after crossing the Red Sea, leaving the domain of Egypt and entering their new domain as the people of God. The tabernacle, small and fragile though it was, was an event of huge significance. It brought the divine presence down from heaven to earth.

Some have suggested that the creation of the tabernacle by the Israelites is the counterpart of the creation of the universe by God. Both were acts of self- renunciation, whereby one made space for the other.

The building of the Mishkan will force the Israelites to work together in order to fulfill a common goal and prepare for a common future. The people’s participation in the making of the tabernacle will unify the nation in a different way. It will elevate the seemingly mundane work of construction into a sacred vocation, dedicated to the service of the one God who freed them from Egypt. These former slaves are no strangers to building monuments and cities. The backbreaking labor of the Israelites in Egypt glorified the Pharaoh and the Egyptian gods; but that certainly was not a sacred endeavor. In contrast, constructing the tabernacle and all its finery will be holy work that aims to create sacred space and sacred instruments of worship.  This Mishkan became the model and prototype for all subsequent homes for God constructed on Earth.

According to parshah, the Israelite women and men together provided not only the labor, but also the raw materials for the Mishkan. Their gifts, brought as voluntary offerings, were gathered and transformed into a place for God to reside in their midst. These former slaves now became both the builders of a nation and builders of a dwelling place for the divine. It is the ark and its contents, the symbol of the covenant between God and Israel, that gives meaning to the tabernacle.

God came close to the Israelites through the building of this sanctuary. It wasn’t the quality of the wood and metals and drapes. It wasn’t the glitter of jewels on breastplate of the high priest. It wasn’t the beauty of the architecture. It was the fact that it was built out of the gifts of” everyone whose heart prompts them to give”. Where people give voluntarily to one another and to holy causes, that is where the divine presence rests.

Thus, the special word that gives its name to this week’s parshah:  Terumah. It can be translated as a contribution, but it actually has a subtly different meaning for which there is no simple English equivalent. It means” something you lift up” by dedicating to a sacred cause. You lift it up, then it lifts you up. One of the best ways of elevating our spiritual heights is simply to give in gratitude for the fact that things have been given to us.

Divine presence was not in a building but in its builders, not in a physical place but in the human heart. The sanctuary was not a place in which the objective existence of God was somehow more concentrated than elsewhere. Rather, it was a place whose holiness had the effect of opening hearts to the ones who worshiped there. God exists everywhere, but not everywhere do we feel the presence of God in the same way. The essence of” the holy” is that it is a place where we set aside all human devices and desires and enter a domain entirely set aside for God. If the concept of the tabernacle is that God lives in the human heart whenever it opens itself unreservedly to heaven, then its physical location is irrelevant. Rabbi Menachem Mendel has said:” God is only where you let God in.”

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks had an interesting take on the building of the Mishkan.  He  wrote about the behavioral economist Dan Ariely who did a series of experiments on what is known as the IKEA effect or” why we overvalue what we make.” The name comes, of course, from the store that sells self- assembly furniture. We may go there to save money on furniture.  However, after we construct something, even if the item is amateurish, we tend to feel a certain pride in it. We can say,” I made this,” even if someone else designed, produced the pieces, and wrote the instructions.  Ariely’s conclusions of his studies were: the effort that we put into something does not change the object. It changes us in the way we evaluate the object. The greater the labor, the greater the love for what we have made. This is part of what is happening in the long sequence about the building of the sanctuary that begins in our parshah. There is certainly no comparison between the Mishkan and something as secular as a piece of self-assembly furniture. But at a human level, there are psychological parallels. The Mishkan was the first thing the Israelites made in the wilderness, and it marks a turning point in the Exodus. Until now, God has done all the work. He took the people out of Egypt to freedom. He gave them food. However, the people did not appreciate it. They were ungrateful. They complained.

Now God instructed Moses to take the people through a role reversal. Instead of God doing things for them, he commanded them to make something for Him. This was not about God. This was about humans and their dignity, their self-respect.

God gave the Israelites a chance to make something with her own hands, something they would value because, collectively, they made it. Everyone who was willing could contribute, from whatever they had. Everyone had the opportunity to take part: women as well as men, the people as a whole, not just the elite.

For the first time, God was asking them not just to follow him or obey his laws but to the active; to become builders and creators. And because it involved their work, energy and time, they invested something of themselves, individually and collectively, in it. To repeat Ariely’s point: we value what we create. The effort we put into something does not change the object, it changes us. God was giving the Israelites the dignity of being able to say:” I helped build a house for God.” The creator of the universe was giving his people the chance to also become creators – not just of something physical and secular, but of something profoundly spiritual and sacred.

This is a life-changing idea. One of the greatest gifts we can give people is to give them a chance to create. This is the one gift that turns a recipient into a giver. It gives them dignity. It shows that we trust them, have faith in them, and believe they are capable of great things.

As Melissa discussed two weeks ago, when you delegate thoughtfully, you turn delegates into partners, not just employees. By sharing the burden and allowing others to take on parts of the job that is their own, they become invested in the outcome. When you delegate correctly, bearing in mind each person’s talents, strengths and personality, you create a stronger team and company. Your goal is to build partners who care about and can contribute to the company’s well-being. Give your employees enough information for them to understand the vision and allow for their input and creativity. Allowing others to share in responsibility and vision includes them as partners.

Remember that God instructed Moses:” tell the Israelites people to bring me gifts; you shall accept gifts for me from every person whose heart is so moved.” This kind of giving, a free will offering, does not come through guilt, coercion, or competition, but from the deepest recesses of the soul.

One who gives receives something in return – the sense of being generous in making a worthy undertaking possible, the sense of sharing with others in an important venture, the sense of self-worth that comes from knowing that we can give away something of value without feeling diminished.

Today, it is important for all of us to continue to make free will offerings to institutions that unify the Jewish people. Our Torah portion teaches us that the terumah gift is an offering that comes from the deep recesses of the heart.  May we all be lifted up; but, more importantly, may we lift up others.

Many Jewish parents embrace a custom of blessing their children every Friday evening. This custom is a nice way of bringing gratitude and spirituality to your family. We have seen our son-in-law bless each of his children, our grandchildren, during Shabbat dinner and it a heartwarming moment. The words of the blessings are taken from the priestly blessing.  The introduction is different depending on whether the child is a boy or girl. For boys, the introductory line is: May you be like Ephraim and Manasseh. For girls, the introductory line is: May you be like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. Following the introduction, the priestly blessing is recited. It seems strange that the blessing for boys singles out Ephraim and Manasseh instead of the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, which begs the question:  Who were these two guys that they should become memorialized in this weekly celebratory prayer?

In this week’s parshah, Vayechi, we encounter a touching deathbed scene fraught with decades of underlying tension and competition. During the days immediately preceding Jacob’s death, he utters these words as he blesses his children and grandchildren who had gathered around him to share his final moments. Such final blessing scenes are common affairs in the ancient testamentary literature, but this particular one displays a few elements that stray from the standard, inspiring interpreters to reflect on the meaning of such deviations from the norm.

The most important deviation comes in the order in which Jacob blesses his progeny. Jacob first blesses Joseph’s two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, his grandsons, elevating them to the status of his sons as predecessors of the tribes of Israel.  He then mentions Joseph. Only after this did Jacob continue to bless the rest of his sons, all of whom are older than Joseph, Ephraim, and Manasseh. Skipping over his elder offspring, it seems that Jacob intentionally raised up Joseph and his sons to a privileged position that exceeds their due place in the clan. Moreover, we find a further extension of this pattern of inverting the law of the first born when Jacob deliberately places his right hand, his” strong” or” chosen” hand on the head of the younger Ephraim, advancing his position before that of his older brother Manasseh.

When Joseph saw that his father placed his right hand upon Ephraim’s head, he moved it to Manasseh’s. He said,” No, father. This is the firstborn, place your right hand upon his head.” Jacob refused.” I know it, my son. He, too, will become a tribe. He, too, will be great but his younger brother will be greater than he and his seed will complete the nations.” He blessed them on that day saying,” May God make you as Ephraim and Manasseh.” He put Ephraim before Manasseh.

The sibling relationships in the book of Exodus had always been associated with strife and jealousy. It is not difficult to understand the care Joseph took to ensure his father, Jacob, would bless the firstborn first. Three times previously Jacob had put the younger before the older, and each time it resulted in tragedy. Jacob, the younger brother, had sought to supplant his older brother Esau. Jacob favored the younger sister Rachel over Leah. And Jacob favored the youngest of his children, Joseph and Benjamin, over the elder Ruben, Shimon and Levi. The consequences were catastrophic: estrangement from Esau, tension between the two sisters, and hostility among his sons. Joseph himself bore the scars: thrown into a well by his brothers, who initially planned to kill him and eventually sold him into Egypt as a slave. Had not his father learned? Did Jacob know what he was doing? Did he not realize that he was risking extending the family feuds into the next generation? Besides which, what possible reason could he have for favoring the younger of his grandchildren over the older? He had not seen them before. He knew nothing about them except for their names. None of the factors that led to the earlier episodes were operative here.

Ephraim and Manasseh were Joseph’s two sons who were born after he arrived in Egypt.” The past was a bitter memory Joseph sought to remove from his mind. So, Joseph named his firstborn Manasseh, saying,” is because God has made me forget all my trouble in all my father’s household.” The second son he named Ephraim saying,” it is because God has made be fruitful in the land of my affliction.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says that Jacob’s blessing of Ephraim over Manasseh had nothing to do with their ages and everything to do with their names.  Jacob sought to signal to all future generations that there would be a constant tension between the desire to forget and the prompting of memory- that the ultimate home is somewhere else. Manasseh represents forgetting but Ephraim is the child who remembers the past but also plans for the future he will be part of.

The question remains:  Why were Ephraim and Manasseh, Jacob’s grandchildren, elevated above Jacob’s sons? There are several interpretations of this episode. One interpretation of this comes from Rabbi Zvi Elimelech.  It is an important foundation of the ethical traditions of Judaism not to exalt oneself over others and not to be jealous of another person. When Jacob saw that even though he chose the younger Ephraim to serve as the firstborn and despite this, Ephraim did not exalt himself over Manasseh and further, Manasseh was not jealous of Ephraim, Jacob said to himself:” If only all the children of Israel could be like this, free of arrogance and envy!”… Therefore, Israel is blessed specifically through them, so that like them there should not be jealousy and competition ruling them.

Aside from its evident moral message, this explanation speaks volumes about the hope of a grandfather for future generations of his family. If Jacob’s sons are anything, after all, they are jealous and competitive in the extreme. Selling a brother into slavery is about as good an indicator of the jealous and competitive tendencies as one could imagine. But here, on his deathbed, Jacob expresses his fervent hope that the competition that ruined his sons’ generation can be avoided in the next, and further, in all future generations of the Jewish people. In blessing our children with these words each Shabbat, then, we echo the hope that familial harmony will win the day, despite petty jealousies and competition that inevitably inhabit every family.

Contrast this with another interpretation by Rabbi Yehuda Leib Ginsburg: why, specifically,” like Ephraim and like Manasseh?” Jacob saw that the diaspora was growing closer to his children, and he knew that in a foreign place, Jews are put into the danger of assimilation and acculturation. Therefore, he blessed them that they should be like Ephraim and Manasseh, the first Jews who were born, grew up, and were educated in the diaspora, in Egypt, but despite this remained faithful to Judaism and the future Israel.

Rabbi Elimelech’s goal is to ensure that our children grow up better than their parents – less competitive and jealous, higher in moral stature. In essence, his hope is that children can benefit from seeing and avoiding the mistakes of their parents. However, Rabbi Ginsburg offers an alternative explanation, explaining that the blessing instead communicates to us that despite the many challenges of a diaspora which tends to draw children away from their Jewish roots, we hope and work hard to ensure they will grow up is committed Jews.

The threat that we face in North America is that we must confront the real possibility that our children and or grandchildren will not be Jewish. If we want there to be Jews in North America hundred years now, we need to do everything we can to make Judaism joyful and relevant.

We have read recently about many acts of anti-Semitism.  We worry about the growth of anti-Semitism in America. However, in an article in 2018 in the New York Times by Gal Beckerman entitled American Jews Face a Choice:  Create Meaning or Fade Away, it is pointed out that anti-Semitism is not what defines the experience of Jews in America today; assimilation is.   The professional worriers in the Jewish Community say it is love, not hate that poses the bigger existential challenge.  According to the article 72% of non-Orthodox Jews marry outside the tribe.  The infrastructure of Judaism, from the synagogue to the long-established liberal denominations, is being steadily abandoned.  Almost a third of millennial Jews are so unidentified with Judaism that they say they have no religion at all.

Tal Keinan has written: “Create meaning or accept extinction.”

A majority of American Jews in the 2013 Pew Survey rated humor and intellectual curiosity much higher than community and religious practice as indicators of Jewishness. There needs to be a push for inclusivity to offset the impact of the increasingly high rate of Jews marrying non-Jews. The aim must be to shock American Judaism out of complacency.

As pointed out, two rabbis have divergent meanings to the same words found in this parshah. This Shabbat, as we bless our children, let us hold these two different understandings of this blessing in mind: first, our hope that our children grow up as Ephraim and Manasseh did, in a harmonious family; where jealousy and hatred, competition and anger are banished; where they do not learn from less than optimal behaviors so that the next generation may grow up to be better than the last. And at the same time, let us hope that they will grow up to be like Ephraim and Manasseh in a second way: so that Judaism we instill in them takes root despite the challenges of the life in the diaspora. We are blessing them to never get lost as Jews.

In this week’s parashah we read the story of Noah. The parashah begins with the following statement: “Noah was a righteous man; he was blameless in his age.”  Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that Noah is the only individual in Tanakh described as righteous. No such praise is given to Abraham or Moses or any of the prophets. Yet the man we see at the end of his life is not the person we saw at the beginning. As we read the whole story, you will see it does not end well.

The flood changed Noah.  After a year on the ark, Noah is finally commanded by God to leave. A normal person would have been very anxious to get out of the ark. But Noah is hesitant to leave. Why? Eli Wiesel offers a poignant insight. He calls Noah the first” survivor.” The world had experienced a Holocaust, and Noah was reluctant to walk out of the ark because he knew that the entire world was one giant graveyard and he just couldn’t face it. The Torah tells us that Noah’s reaction to the flood is to plant. Planting after a great destruction is surely a meaningful and satisfying response. It represents hope and belief in the future. But what does Noah plant? He plants a vine and drinks the wine of the vineyard. He becomes drunk and wallows around in his tent.  Not only did Noah become drunk, but he was naked inside his tent which further debased him and led to family drama. Poor Noah. He cannot face the fact that everybody except himself and his immediate family was destroyed by the flood. He is unable to face reality. He needs an escape and resorts to alcohol. He becomes a drunkard.  He literally lost control of his life.

This is an uncomfortable episode in Noah’s life, but it serves as a reminder that even those saved by the grace of God are prone to sin. It is also a powerful warning about how just one careless decision can destroy the reputation of even the most Godly man or woman. The Bible does not specify why Noah became drunk. There are several possibilities but none of them change the fact that Noah was responsible for his own actions. One possibility is that Noah was haunted by his experiences during the flood.   The impact of the flood and the great loss of life began to sink in. Noah may have become depressed. He turned to alcohol to numb the emotional pain. Attempting to avoid negative feelings is one of the major reasons people abuse alcohol today. The key danger of alcohol is that it takes judgment to know when to stop, but good judgment is exactly what alcoholic tends to erode.

Rabbi Lance Sussman suggests that one possibility for Noah’s actions is that he developed the first reported case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. The Torah tells us that Noah was psychologically sound prior to the flood, experienced tremendous trauma during the flood and, subsequently, failed to adjust to post flood life in basically every dimension of his life. Noah, it seemed, had a serious case of PTSD.

Feeling guilt after the experience of a traumatic event is serious and it has been linked to a number of negative consequences such as depression, shame, social anxiety, low self-esteem, and thoughts of suicide. In addition, it has been connected to the development of PTSD. The diagnosis of PTSD can be suspected in an individual who exhibits significant behavioral change after a traumatic event. It is described as a serious mental condition rooted in exposure to actual or threatened death, serious injury or sexual violation. The disturbance, regardless of its trigger, causes clinically significant distress in the individual’s social interactions, capacity to do work or other important areas of functioning and will be discussed in more detail later. One could say that in the story of Noah we can see different manifestations of severe psychological stress reaction consistent with PTSD. The midrash describes how burdensome life on the ark was for Noah. As mentioned, the Noah that emerges from the ark is not the same Noah that boarded the ark a year earlier. Gone is the righteous man we saw earlier. He is replaced by a broken man who has a drunken encounter with his son, after which we hear of him no more. After witnessing the destruction of the known world, it is not surprising that Noah turns to alcohol which is a common outlet for patients with PTSD.

Noah’s response to the flood is not dissimilar to the action of some Holocaust survivors. Noah experienced a kind of PTSD called survivor’s guilt. Survivor’s guilt is a type self-guilt that sometimes takes place after a traumatic event. This phenomenon can occur in a variety of life-threatening situations including car accidents, wars, natural disasters but it also can work its way into very personal tragedies, affecting friends and family of those who died by suicide, for example.

Survivors may find themselves wondering why they lived through the event or why they suffered less than others. The concept of survivor’s guilt achieved prominence during the 1960s when a number of psychologists described a similar set of symptoms experienced by survivors of the Holocaust. Some survivors were just not capable of facing the fact that they were singled out to live, while their beloved friends and relatives had been murdered. Survivors guilt can have a serious impact on a person’s life function. Survivors guilt may be viewed as one of the cognitive and mood related symptoms of PTSD, which include having distorted feelings of guilt and negative thoughts about oneself. Although survivor’s guilt was originally used to describe feelings that survivors of the Holocaust experienced, it has also been applied to other people and situations since that time. I saw this in my own practice in individuals who lived through the AIDS epidemic with feelings of guilt related to their own survival while others, including friends or family died. Also following a flood or tornado, people might feel a sense of guilt and wonder why their homes were spared while their next-door neighbor’s home was destroyed. Survivors guilt does not necessarily have to involve life or death situations.  Following a trauma, people may also experience feelings of regret. You ruminate over the events that took place and think about things they could have or should have done that would have altered the outcome. The rehashing of the events could further exacerbate the feelings of guilt, particularly if people feel their own actions or inaction may have worsened the consequences.

To review, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, is an anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which grave physical harm occurred or was threatened. It was first described in 1980. Traumatic events that may trigger PTSD include violent personal assaults, natural or human caused disasters, accidents, or military combat. PTSD can happen to anyone.  It is not a sign of weakness.

The statistics on PTSD are alarming. In the United States, approximately 3.5% of the adult population has PTSD at any given moment. Cumulatively, as many as 9% are personally affected over a lifetime. PTSD is the most prevalent diagnosis among American military veterans, although it is estimated that only half of those with PTSD seek treatment. In one survey of 600 recent US combat veterans, it was reported that the rate of alcohol abuse was 39%, PTSD was at14% and drug abuse was at 3%. Among veterans, the correlation between PTSD and drinking problems can run as high as 80%.

There may also be profound religious implications associated with PTSD. For some victims, the circumstances leading to PTSD may lead to the questioning of important previously sustaining beliefs. This can lead to spiritual struggle or even loss of faith.

I want to mention another message of this parashah.  Question: what does Noah say to God when the decree is issued that the world is about the perish? The answer is: nothing. Noah is the paradigm of biblical obedience. He does as he is commanded. In Judaism, God does not command blind obedience. God wants us to be mature, deliberative, to do his will because we understand or because we trust him when we do not understand. He seeks from us something other and greater than obedience, namely responsibility.  Noah saved only himself and his family. At the end of his life, Noah was a drunk, disheveled, embarrassment to his children. This tells us that if you save yourself while doing nothing to save the world, you do not even save yourself. Noah could not live with the guilt of survival. It takes courage to rebuild a shattered world. That was the courage shown by those who built and fought for the state of Israel in the years after the Holocaust. They were different kinds of people, but they shared that intuitive knowledge that Noah lacked: that when it comes to rebuilding the ruins of catastrophe, you do not wait for permission. You take the risk and walk ahead. Faith is more than obedience. It is the courage to create.

If we find ourselves in Noah’s position, feeling alone, angry, or guilty about our life circumstances, it’s helpful to have coping mechanisms in place ahead of time or to seek professional help. It’s challenging to push through a traumatic experience but finding healthy ways to cope with emotions is essential.

So, in the end, Noah survived the flood, but drowned in the burden of his untreated PTSD. Let us learn from his tragic example.

Living in Israel will entail additional obligations, and in the beginning of this parashah Moses describes one of these additional obligations:  Bikkurim- the first-fruit ceremony.  The mitzvah of Bikkurim will be fulfilled long after Moses has died, after the conquest of the land and division of tribal portions, after homes are built, and after fields and orchards and vineyards are planted.  The first Bikkurim ceremony occurred 14 years after entering Israel. The ritual is designed to place the celebration of the harvest into historical as well as spiritual context, culminating in the harvest that symbolized our status as a free and holy nation. Jewish farmers took their most precious harvest in hand and reminded themselves how it came to be.   Not all fruits were subject to the mitzvah of Bikkurim – only from those seven species native to the land of Israel are used. These include wheat and barley, grapes and figs and pomegranates, oil-producing olives and honey producing dates. Rather than self-congratulation for their resourcefulness and success, the purpose of the Bikkurim is to demonstrate gratitude and give praise to God for the good he did in bringing us to Israel and affording us the opportunity to enjoy the fruits for which the land is praised.

The Bikkurim is not about nature but about the shape of history, the birth of Israel as a nation, and the redemptive power of God who liberated our ancestors from slavery. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote that what was happening in Jerusalem when people brought their first fruits was of immense consequence. It meant that they regularly told the story of who they were and why. No nation has ever given greater significance to retelling its collective story than Judaism, which is why Jewish identity is the strongest the world has ever known.

In the Mishnah is a detailed account of what happened during Bikkurim.  It was a magnificent ceremony. In historical context, however, its most significant aspect was the declaration which each individual had to make:” My father was a wandering Aramaean, and he went down into Egypt with a few people and lived there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous… Then the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and outstretched arm, with great terror and with miraculous signs and wonders.”

The farmers’ first fruit recitation is a rare instance of the Torah prescribing the precise words of prayer rather than leaving it to the inspiration of the worshipers’ heart. The recitation summarizes the historical basis of Jewish identity.  One of the advantages of a set liturgy, in addition to uniting all Jews across barriers of time, is that it reminds us of things we might not think of on our own.

In the absence of the Temple, the mitzvah of Bikkurim no longer applies. However, there are numerous ways in which we carry on the spirit of the mitzvah. The text of the Bikkurim was selected to become a fundamental part of the Passover Haggadah, and the Seder plate is seen as a symbolic representation of the Bikkurim basket. Thus, the entire Seder experience becomes an annual reenactment of the Bikkurim ceremony. Why was this text chosen? It is a wonderfully succinct telling of our exodus from Egypt and expression of our gratitude to God, just the right text to be recited during the Passover Seder.  Remember, the primary theme of the Bikkurim is that of gratitude, appreciating the good we are given. It teaches us how important it is to verbally acknowledge God, our principal benefactor.

Gratitude was at the heart of what Moses had to say about the Israelites and their future in the promised land. Gratitude had not been a strong point in the desert. The people complained about lack of food and water, about the manna and lack of meat and vegetables, about the dangers they faced from the Egyptians as they were leaving and about the inhabitants of the land they were about to enter. They lacked gratitude during difficult times. A greater danger still, said Moses, would be a lack of gratitude during the good times in the future.  Appreciation for what God does for us is the foundation of religious life. The Bikkurim ritual, and the joyous way in which it is performed, allow us to thank God for our bountiful, miraculous sustenance.

Rifat Sonsino notes that gratitude is a powerful tool for expressing our deepest feelings for everything we have and are. Our prayer book is replete with sentiments of gratitude to God, who is the ultimate source of our existence. When we rise in the morning, we are expected to recite Modeh Ani,” I am grateful” to God for bringing life to me each and every day. In the blessing after meals, we thank God for sustaining the world with goodness kindness and mercy. Also in the prayer Modim Anachnu Lach,” we are grateful to you” we thank God for our souls. The Bikkurim, like the Modeh Ani prayer, is a declaration of indebtedness and gratitude to God.

Dennis Prager has written that gratitude is the key to happiness and anything that undermines gratitude must undermine happiness. And nothing undermines gratitude as much as expectations. There is an inverse relationship between expectations and gratitude: the more expectations you have, the less gratitude you will have.  According to Prager, having gratitude leads to a good and happy life. Grateful people walk around with the belief that they are truly fortunate. This sense of thankfulness not only makes a person happier, but also more kind. In short, almost everything good flows from gratitude. Therefore, the converse is also true: almost everything bad flows from ingratitude. Prager contends that it is impossible for an ungrateful person to be happy or good.

The first reason why ungrateful people are not good or happy people is that a lack of gratitude creates a victim mentality. This mindset blames family, historical maltreatment, or literally anything else, for any real or perceived deficiencies in a person’s current situation. The second reason why ungrateful people are not usually good or happy is that they are also angry, and angry people typically lash out at others.

Unfortunately, modern society has replaced gratitude with a growing sense of entitlement, the idea that you are owed that which you have not earned. Prager explains that the more you feel that life, or the state, or that others owe you, the angrier you will get, the more bad you will do, the more you will lash out, the less happy you will be. Prager says that we are developing bad people by making people feel entitled.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks cites research which has shown the multiple other effects of developing an attitude of gratitude. It improves physical health and immunity against disease. Grateful people are more likely to exercise and go for regular checkups. Thankfulness reduces toxic emotions such as resentment, frustration and regret and makes depression less likely. It helps people avoid overreacting to negative experiences by seeking revenge. It tends to make people sleep better. It enhances self- respect, making it less likely that you will envy others for their achievement or success. Grateful people tend to have better relationships. Saying thank you enhances friendships and elicits better performance from employees. It is also a major factor in strengthening resilience. Having an attitude of gratitude makes us more appreciative and entrusting; it gives us the strength to bounce back from painful experiences such as losing a job, going through illness or losing a loved one.

Albert Schweitzer said, “each of us has a cause to think with deep gratitude of those who lighted the flame within us.” So, we must express our thanks; to do so verbally and often, for our good health, for the companionship we cherish, for our parents and children, for our accomplishments, for everything we have learned from our mothers, fathers, teachers, friends, and students. And then we must turn this sense of gratitude into actions that benefit others. President John F. Kennedy said,” as we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”

Ki Tavo Fiddler Parody

Moses instructs the people of Israel: when you enter the land that God is giving to as your eternal heritage, take a moment to appreciate this Miracle of Miracles. After you settle it and cultivate it, which is The Dream you’ve always dreamed, bring the first ripened fruits from your orchard to the holy Temple and declare your gratitude for all God has done for you. Be grateful Sunrise and Sunset.  This ceremony will become an annual Tradition.  You will feel like Now I Have Everything.

The Parashah also includes the laws of the tithes given to the Levites and the poor. The poor people who received this appreciate it, but daydream thinking  to themselves, If I Were a Rich Man. Next are instructions on how to proclaim the blessings and curses on Mount Grizzim and Mount Ebal. Moses reminds the people that they are God’s chosen people, and that they, in turn, have chosen God. It was as if a Matchmaker arranged the relationship.

The latter part Parashah consists of the Tochacha, the rebuke. After listing the blessings for which God will reward the people when they follow the laws of the Torah, Moses gives a long, harsh account of the bad things – illness, famine, poverty and exile – that will befall them if they abandon God’s commandments. At that point, Moses turns to God and says:” Do You Love Me?” To which God replies, ” Do I what?”.

Moses concludes by telling the people that only today, 40 years after their birth as a people, have been attained a heart to know, eyes to see, and ears to hear. He tells them to celebrate with La Chaim, To Life. Remember to keep the Sabbath and say your Sabbath Prayer. Moses tells them: I will not be able to enter the land of Israel but will not be Far From the Home I Love.

We know that in the future the Israelites will survive a life of uncertainty, as precarious as a Fiddler on the Roof.

Parashah Naso has 176 verses and is the longest parashah in the torah.  One of its most moving passages, and the one that has had the greatest impact over the course of history, is very short and is known by almost every Jew.  It is the Priestly Blessing. This is among the oldest of all prayer texts.   It is in this Torah portion that God dictates the priestly blessing to Moses who is to teach it to Aaron and his sons, the kohanim. It is said today by the kohanim in the reader’s repetition of the Amida in Israel every day and in most of the diaspora only on festivals. It is used by parents as they bless their children on Friday night. It is often said to the bride and groom under the chuppah.

Traditionally, it is interpreted as a blessing for physical well-being and sustenance. These three blessings nourish our relationship with God and represent the arc of our spiritual climb. First, we serve God, then we know God, and finally we rise to the pinnacle of unification with God.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that what gives these verses their power is their simplicity and beauty. They have a strong rhythmic structure. The lines contain three, five, and seven words respectively. In each, the second word is” the Lord”. In all three verses the first part refers to an activity on the part of God –” bless”,” make his face shine”, and” turn his face toward”. The second part describes the effect of the blessing on us, giving us protection, grace and peace.

One interpretation of the first verse is: May the Lord bless you with material wealth and protect you from losing that wealth, for material blessings are vulnerable to loss. Or another is may God protect you from being corrupted by attainment of material blessing. This is probably more relevant for many political leaders and some religious leaders who are falling prey to the increasing temptations and dangers of corruption in our society. It may also mean:  May God bless you according to your needs – blessing the student with intelligence, the businessman with business acumen.  Sforno notes that Jews need not be embarrassed to pray for material wealth, which can make a life of charity and study more attainable.  God’s blessings are as varied as our individual needs.

The second verse,” May the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you,” refers to moral blessing. Grace is what we show to other people and they to us. It is interpersonal. Here we are asking God to give some of his grace to us and others so that we can live together without the strife and envy that can so easily poison relationships.

For the author of the Midrash, the second line of the blessing is a prayer for the light of wisdom and knowledge of Torah. Unlike wealth, they require no protection to prevent them from being stolen. The second half of the second blessing adds the words” may the divine presence deal graciously with you”. The attributes of graciousness and loving kindness and mercy are essential if we are to live moral lives. They will enable us to be more fully human; they help us care for of the underprivileged in our communities; they will help us relate to all human beings with a greater understanding and compassion.

The third blessing is the most inward of all the blessings.” May the Lord turn his face toward you.” There are 7 billion people on the face of the Earth. What makes us anything more than a face in the crowd? The fact that we are God’s children. He is our parent. He turns his face towards us. He cares.

The third blessing is looked at as the Lord’s compassion above and beyond what we deserve, as expressed by the forgiveness of sin and giving peace.

In English, peace connotes absence of war. It can also describe a state of tranquility. But the peace of God in the priestly blessing embraces even more aspects of life. It includes good health, security, inner harmony, wellness, material prosperity, and long life. But if we don’t have peace is hard to enjoy it all. This is a peace that is with us in good times and bad. The broad and rich meaning of peace in the priestly blessing reinforces the role of holiness in the life of Israel. It brings about both social and physical health.

Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim ben Aharon interpreted the priestly blessings in an interesting way- like parenthood: “May God bless you and protect you”. God is taking care of us, above us, and we are below, like a parent taking care of a child.” May God cause His face to shine upon you, and may God be good to you.” Here, God is shining His face at you, from the same level as you. We have become equals with God. The parent and child are now peers. This verse makes me imagine seeing my children grown and standing, looking at them eye to eye, being independent people, debating with me.” May God lift up God’s face to you and grant you peace.” The directionality here is most clear. God is looking up to us, up at us, as an aging parent looks up to an adult child, admiring of everything our grown child has become, we hope. Yet the parent still has wisdom to impart.”

We matter as individuals because God cares for us as a parent for a child. That is one reason why the priestly blessings are all in the singular, to emphasize that God blesses us not only collectively but also individually.

As mentioned, clergy do not have sole title to the Birkat kohanim. Parents recite it when blessing their children at the Shabbat dinner table. Indeed, this may be the most spiritually gratifying utilization of these words. Kids today are not accustomed to being blessed by their parents. Hugs are in, as are high-fives. Blessings are something else. One sees a special impact of a blessing when parents introduce the brief ritual into their Shabbat home observance. We have seen it with our own grandchildren. The blessed children radiate a special glow that is assuredly a reflection of God’s presence.

This is precisely the intended effect of the priestly blessing. The Torah offers this explanation for why God commands the priest to pronounce it:” Thus they shall link my name with the people of Israel, and I will bless them”. In word and deed, and in bestowing an ancient blessing at important times in people’s lives, all of us can help make God’s presence felt in the world around us

The Jewish day is punctuated with the recital of a variety of blessings. The Rabbi in Fiddler on the Roof said: “There truly is a blessing for everything.” These blessings serve a variety spiritual purposes to praise God as the source of all goodness, to ask permission to eat God’s food and say” thank you” and to bring God’s blessing into the world.

But what is a blessing? We can easily agree that it is a very positive thing, but when we try to pin down the concept of blessing to a definition, it suddenly seems surprisingly difficult.

Blessings are short statements that express gratitude for something. But a blessing is not merely to show gratitude. The purpose of the blessing is awareness.  A blessing is an expression of hope.

There are three main types of blessings. First, there are blessings we make over something we enjoy with our senses. The most common ones are blessings over food. We take a moment to pause and reflect on where this pleasant experience comes from and use it to channel Godliness into the world. The second kind of blessing is for Commandments. Jews consider the Torah to be the greatest gift of all, and the act of performing a mitzvah is an act of channeling divine energy into our mundane world. The third kind of blessing are blessings of experience. They are called” blessings of sight” or” of hearing,” but can also be designated as blessings of awe.  These are the blessings we recite when we see or hear something that reminds us of God’s presence in the world.

So, what does it mean to be a blessing? Hanan Schlesinger says it is when God blesses us and then we must pass blessings along. We ought never to hoard his blessings for ourselves. God gives life, and light, and sustenance and hope, and so must we give these blessings to others as well. Blessings are not meant to flow into us, but rather flow through us.

As the kohanim transmitted God’s blessings to the Israelites, we, too, must transmit God’s blessings to all people. To bless others is to serve as conduits of God’s blessing, God’s generosity, and God’s light. Blessing opens a channel for holiness to enrich the lives of both the blessers and the blessed.

How can you be a blessing? With a smile or a hug; by always thinking of giving, of helping, of lending a hand; by offering an invitation instead of waiting to receive one; by opening up to a stranger, by making someone feel at home; by teaching and helping others to learn; by offering insight and inspiration; by encouragement or kind word. It is not hard to find ways to be a blessing – you just have to constantly be aware of it.  May we all be constantly aware of it.

You might have missed reading last week’s parasha, Vayikra, and are wondering what you’ve missed. You don’t have to worry. In this week’s parashah, Tzav, the laws of sacrifice are completely repeated. Not again! Since our tradition maintains that nothing in the Torah is redundant and that there are no excess, unneeded words, we wonder why two consecutive parashas cover virtually the same material. The same five sacrifices are described. There is a minor difference in the order that these offerings are discussed. One reason for the repetition is that the instructions in Vayikra are given to the people of Israel, while in Tzav the directions are given for the kohanim.

At the time of the birth of Judaism, all cultures had temples and all religions were practiced through sacrifices of one kind or another.  This was the religious reality, the cultural background with which Judaism had to contend.

When Judaism arrived, it introduced a revolution in many areas such as the dignity of man, human freedom, and ethical monotheism. For the Jews, there were laws and regulations to follow which would shape the new way of life that God was introducing into the world. Certain ideas were unique to this new religion. Do not mix milk and meat or keep Shabbat, for example. These could be mentioned very briefly in the Torah because there was no danger that any of the contemporary religions would defile these ideas because only the Jews were practicing them. But if God merely told the Israelites to build the temple and to bring sacrifices, they could have simply followed the contemporary pagan way of their neighbors. Instead, God had to spell it out. To prevent possible mingling from other cultures and the infiltration of pagan ideas into the sanctum of the monotheistic mindset, the Torah had to define the spiritual tools to the most miniscule detail. Nothing was left to interpretation. And so, the detail in which the sacrifices are described was vital in ensuring a uniquely Jewish way of serving God.

The Hebrew word for sacrifice is korban.  Korban also means “to draw one near.”  The korbanot bring the Jewish people together and build solidarity between us and our God as well as with each other. Certain korbanot are brought purely for the purpose of communicating with God and becoming closer to him. Others are brought for the purpose of expressing thanks, love, or gratitude to God. Others are used to cleanse a person of ritual impurity. And some are brought for the purpose of atonement.

The Torah, rather than creating the institution of sacrifice, carefully limited the practice, permitting it only in certain places, at certain times, in certain manners, by certain people, for certain purposes. This is why there were no sacrifices after the destruction of the second Temple.

Given how central the sacrifices were to the religious life in Israel in Temple times, how did Judaism survive without them?

The short answer is that the prophets, the sages, and the Jewish thinkers of the middle ages realized that sacrifices were symbolic enactments of mind and heart and that they could be expressed in other ways as well. We can encounter the will of God by Torah study, engage in the service of God by prayer, make financial sacrifices by charity, create sacred fellowship by hospitality and so on.

Maimonides argued that sacrifices were an early form of worship given to the Jewish people so that they could learn how to serve God without feeling different from all the idolatrous people surrounding them. Slowly the people learned that that prayer is a better means of attaining nearness to God.  Maimonides emphasizes that the superiority of prayer is that it can be offered everywhere and by every person.

What about sacrifice in modern society?  We love what we are willing to make sacrifices for.  This is true in many aspects of life. A happily married couple is constantly making sacrifices for one another. Parents make huge sacrifices for their children. People are drawn to a calling – to heal the sick, or care for the poor, or fight for justice for the weak against the strong – often sacrificing remunerative careers for the sake of their ideals. In strong communities, people make sacrifices for one another when someone is in distress or needs help. Sacrifice is the superglue of relationships. It bonds us to one another.

That is why, in the biblical age, sacrifices were so important – not as they were in other faiths but precisely because at the beating heart of Judaism is love. In other faiths, the driving motive behind sacrifice was fear: fear of the anger and power of the gods.  In Judaism, it was love

Lose the concept of sacrifice within a society, and sooner or later marriage falters, parenthood declines, and society slowly ages and dies.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that the Jews have not abandoned the past. We still refer constantly to the sacrifices in prayers. But Jews did not cling to the past. Nor did they take refuge in irrationality. Rebecca Costa, in writing about civilizations that did not survive, said:  “What is remarkable about the Jews and Judaism is that they did not focus obsessively on sacrifices, like the failed civilization of the Mayans. Instead they focused on finding substitutes for sacrifice. One was acts of kindness They thought through the future and created institutions like the synagogue, a house of study, that could be built anywhere and sustain Jewish identity even in the most adverse conditions.

Rabbi Sacks Concludes:  Surely there is a lesson for the Jewish people today: plan generations ahead. Contemplate worst-case scenarios. What saved the Jewish people was their ability, despite their deep and abiding faith, never to let go of rational thought, and despite their loyalty to the past, to keep planning for the future

This week’s Torah portion contains many significant narratives demonstrating God’s love for the Jewish people, and the Jews ’response to him. It tells us several of the more striking miracles in our people’s history: the splitting of the Red Sea, the falling of manna from the sky, the providing water from a rock and the victory over Amalek.

The Jews are out of Egypt, but their redemption is not yet complete. They seem like a hysterical, ever pessimistic group. Pharaoh and his army still pose a tangible threat to their freedom. More subtle is the slave mentality that still gnaws at their souls despite their having experienced God’s redemptive power during the 10 plagues. No matter how much God has done for them, they still lack confidence in God’s saving power. As the process of their liberation from Egypt continues, the children of Israel battle with external and internal threats to their freedom as they advance toward the Promised Land.

Children can get into the habit of complaining and whining again and again. They often seem not to notice their many gifts and blessings and simply complain that they live a life of hardship and deprivation, despite how much they have. In this parashah, the children of Israel do likewise. After passing through the Red Sea and arriving safely in the wilderness, the first thing they do is whine.” We don’t have any food or water!” We’re going to die in the desert. Though they are granted sweet water to drink and manna falls from the sky, they continued to complain throughout their time in the wilderness. Contemporary Bible scholar Avivah Zornberg points to the very real challenges with a journey: anxiety, uncertainty. The Exodus from Egypt is laden with certain fear of the unknown. It seems that God was worried that once the Israelites saw the challenge that would arise while wandering in the desert, they would prefer to return to Egypt where, although enslaved, they had at least of the certain degree of consistency in their lives, a familiar routine. They would recall it as a time they had everything they needed. Complaining was a big part of the Israelites experience in the wilderness.

This is a struggle that many people face at least one time or another in life: a reluctance to try something new, to veer off into uncharted territories, to stray from our comfort zones, all the risks of traveling the path that is less familiar or comfortable.

The laws of geometry teach us that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. If only the Jewish people hadn’t skipped that class while enslaved in Egypt, perhaps it would not have taken them as long to arrive in the promised land. While the initial directions for our journey may seem straightforward, we are often rerouted. Seldom are we able to travel in a direct nonstop path. I can imagine Uri Levine as a young Israeli child, learning about the Exodus for the first time and wondering to himself why this trip from Egypt took 40 years. He decided that should never happen again and in 2008 invented Waze.

Sometimes God takes you the long way in life. That’s hard, because the direct route makes so much more sense. Were all about efficiency. But God has a different destination in mind. The nation of Israel began their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land by immediately turning away from it. Rather than take the shorter, coastal route to Canaan, God directed Israel southeast toward the Red Sea. The direct route led through the land of the Philistines, and while God could have simply destroyed the enemy, his concern lay more with the unprepared and fearful hearts of his people. A journey of three weeks would ultimately take 40 years. But God wanted to give His people something more than a parcel of land; he offered them a change of heart. In the end, the land, the journey to it, and even God’s word along the way came as but the means by which they would learn to know and trust him. God often leads us according to the needs of our heart, not always according to its desires.

Today’s world is full of books, videos and programs promising a fast-track for almost anything from weight loss to riches to success and fame. This is the age of speed dating, speed networking, speed yoga, and even speed meditation. It’s a time of rush, rush, rush in the attempt to do more, sooner, faster. But there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of evidence that packing in more actually achieves more. If squeezing more into your day isn’t enabling you to accomplish more – and to feel good about the more that you accomplished – perhaps some slowing down is in order.

Life-changing ideas symbolized by the route on which God led the Israelites when they left Egypt shows that there are no fast tracks. It is better by far to know at the outset that the road is long, the work is hard, and there may be many setbacks and false turnings. You’ll need grit, resilience, stamina and persistence. In place of a pillar of cloud leading the way, you will need the advice of mentors and encouragement of friends. But the journey is exhilarating, and there is no other way. The harder it gets, the stronger you become.

There is an idea called the Slow Movement that is designed to counteract the notion that faster is always better. This movement is about seeking the right speed to do things, savoring hours and minutes spent rather than measuring and counting them and doing things as well as possible rather than as fast as possible. As Carl Honoré, the key advocate of this movement, put it: everyone wants to know how to slow down but they want to know how to do it quickly. He points out that we become obsessed with speed, trying to cram more and more into less and less. Even instant gratification takes too long. But, Honoré says,” we are so marinated in the culture of speed that we fail to notice the toll it takes on our lives, health, work, and relationships. And too often, it takes a wake-up call to achieve a different perspective. Honoré says he still loves speed, but now he is living his life instead of rushing through it.

There are two practical tips to leverage the full benefit of time in our lives. First, resist temptation to accelerate at all costs. Don’t let anyone deprive you of the necessary growth pains you’re going through. Embrace and leverage the learning potential of time. Second, embrace the living journey. In an age where we crave speed and instant solutions, let’s revisit and ingrain in ourselves again the importance of time, and the outcomes that only time can bring. There are no shortcuts the building character, maturity, credibility and influence.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks pointed out that it was a result of God’s wisdom that the Israelites were led about in the wilderness until they acquired courage. In addition, another generation arose during the wanderings, that had not been accustomed to degradation and slavery. In other words: it takes a generation born in freedom to build a society of freedom. Changing human nature is very slow indeed. It takes generations, even centuries and millennia. Change takes time. Even God, himself, could not force the pace. That is why he led the Israelites in a circuitous route, knowing that they could not face the full challenge of liberty immediately. What this meant was that almost from the dawn of their history as a nation, Jews were forced to learn that lasting achievement takes time. Nelson Mandela called his autobiography, The Long Walk to Freedom. On that journey, there are no shortcuts.

As we learn in the Babylonian Talmud,” there is a long way which is short and a short way which is long”. The journey of the Jewish people through the wilderness from slavery to freedom is undoubtedly filled with trials and tribulations, yet ultimately through their circuitous route, they become a unified nation, a people of Israel, stronger from their experiences, more mature through their overcoming adversity and eventually, more assured that leaving Egypt was in fact the right thing to do. Sometimes, the harder we work for something, the more we appreciate what was accomplished once we arrive at our destination.

Beshallach Queen Parody

Soon after allowing the children of Israel to depart Egypt, Pharaoh chases them in order to force their return. The Israelites find themselves trapped between Pharaoh’s army in the Red Sea. They call to God: Save Me, Let Me Live, Don’t Stop Me Now, I Want to Break Free. God says Now I’m Here.  He had One Vision. God tells Moses to raise his staff over the water and the sea splits which allows the Israelites to Breakthru.   As the sea closes over the pursuing Egyptians, the Israelites look back and see: Another One Bites the Dust. Moses and the children of Israel then sing the Song at the Sea to praise and show gratitude to God, realizing The Miracle they just witnessed.

In the desert, the people suffer thirst and hunger. They think: It’s a Hard Life, Living on My Own.  They come to realize that Those Are the Days of Our Lives. The people repeatedly complained to Moses and Aaron. We Are Driven by You.  How will you provide for us? Moses says Aaron: you are my brother and You’re My Best Friend.  We must work together and Play This Game.

Moses reassures the people that everything will be all right. They respond: You Don’t Fool Me. God miraculously sweetens the bitter water of Marah. Later, when the people are again thirsty, God tells Moses how to bring forth water. Moses turns to the thirsty people and says: We Will Rock You.  As he strikes the rock, water pours out.

God causes manna to rain down from heaven each morning and quails appear each evening. It was Heaven for Everyone and A Kind of Magic.

The people are instructed to gather a double portion manna on Friday, as none will not descend on Shabbat.  Some people disobey, saying, I Want It All but cannot find manna on Shabbat.

In Rephidim, the people are attacked by the Amalekites. The Israelites are Under Pressure, waiting for the Hammer to Fall. However, the Amalekites are defeated by Moses and an army raised by Joshua. After the victory, the people of Israel break into song, chanting:  We Are the Champions.

And now you know the rest of the story.

Parashah Noach begins and ends with two great events: the flood in the beginning, Babel and its tower at the end. On the face of it, they have nothing in common. The failings of the generation of the flood are explicit. Babel, by contrast, seems almost idyllic.

After the flood, man again began to multiply and fill the earth. Everyone spoke one language understood one another. Generations of people before the flood had been interested only in themselves; they thought of themselves as supermen and each one lived for himself alone; they used violence and force against their weaker neighbors, paying no attention to laws and rules. The new generation of mankind after the flood was different. They stressed the opposite code of living. The individual did not count for himself; he counted only as part of the community, and he had to align his own interests to those of the group. Had they confined themselves to this kind of social life, all might have been well. But they over did it. The tremendous strength that grew out of their organization made them proud, but their overblown pride made them turn against God.

The people crowned Nimrod as their King and he essentially became king of the entire population of the earth. Nimrod said:” let us build a tower so high that its top will reach the heavens and let us make a name for ourselves.”  The builders were bent on construction, not destruction. They learned how to make strong bricks because there was no stone available.

The people thought that if they built a tower to reach to heaven, it would make them equal to God, and at the same time, to make it possible for them to stay together in one geographical area in the land of Shinear.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that despite their seemingly good intentions, from the Torah’s point of view, Babel represents another serious wrong turn, because immediately thereafter God summons Abraham to begin an entirely new chapter in the religious story of humankind. These events of the flood and Babel are depicted because they represent a profound moral – social – political – spiritual truth about the human situation as the Torah sees it. The flood tells us what happened to civilization when individuals rule and there is no collective. Babel tells us what happened when the collective rules and individuals are sacrificed to it.

Catholic writer Paul Johnson said:” there have been, in the course of history, societies that have emphasized the individual –like before the flood, like the secular West today. And there have been others that placed weight on the collective – like the people of Babel, or now like Communist Russia or China, for example. Judaism, he continued, was the most successful example he knew that managed the delicate balance between the two, giving equal weight to individual and collective responsibility. Judaism was his religion of strong individuals and strong unities. This, he said, was very rare and difficult, and constitutes one of Judaism’s greatest achievements.

The results of human behavior are often the opposite of what was intended. The builders of Babel wanted to concentrate humanity in one place with one language. As mentioned, they wanted to make a name for themselves by building a tower to reach to heaven. This was the world’s first totalitarian regime, in which to preserve the masses as a single entity, all freedom of expression was suppressed. They became intoxicated by their own technical prowess of creating strong bricks. The builders were so fanatical in their desire to complete the tower that when a brick fell and broke, they lamented:” how hard will it be to replace it.” But when a person slipped and fell to his death, no one looked upon him or cared. The builders of Babel believed they had become like gods and could construct their own miniature universe. This was the beginning of the end for the tower of Babel.

God became angry with the inhabitants of Babel for several reasons:

First, they were being disobedient by settling in one place instead of multiplying and filling the earth as God commanded.  Second, they were being prideful, which was considered a wicked sin. They were so bent on pride, and so consumed by it that they wanted to create a monumental skyscraper to show off just how good they were. Third, the fact that they wanted to ignore God and make a name for themselves reveals that they were already committing idolatry by worshiping themselves.

God decided to destroy their arrogance by destroying their ability to understand one another. He confused people by splitting them into 70 nations and tribes, scattering them over the face of the earth. Each had its own language and no longer understood one another. Hence, the name Babel became the symbol of confusion.

I have told you that the pride of the Babylonians was one of the factors that ultimately destroyed them.  It begs the question:  Is pride a good thing or a bad thing?  Leon Seltzer writes:  I’ve always regarded pride is a healthy human trait, linking it favorably to self-motivation, confidence, respect, and acceptance. But the Bible views it differently, labeling it as one of the seven deadly sins. So is there a good pride and a bad pride or does pride exist along a continuum – as in, pride is positive up to a certain level, but beyond that it becomes malignant as we saw in the story of the tower of Babel.

Pride is a personality characteristic that can be deemed healthy (or, is often designated as true, authentic, or genuine), versus the form of pride regularly viewed as unhealthy (or false, bad, arrogant, or hubristic). There are marked differences between healthy and unhealthy pride.

Healthy, or good pride is about self-confidence, reflecting a can-do attitude. It motivates one to become better every day. Unhealthy, or bad pride also is about trying to succeed but these individuals are abnormally driven to succeed.  They struggle with self-doubt and a feeling of shame.  Healthy pride represents a positive notion of self-worth. People with healthy pride are not satisfied with a mediocre performance; they strive to do their best. People with unhealthy pride have an overly favorable evaluation of self, based on giving oneself too much credit for accomplishments which may be rather modest. People with healthy pride feel good about themselves. Such pride is associated with a high, though not artificially high, self-esteem. People with unhealthy pride have an elevated self-regard which is bogus and covers for insecurity. People with healthy pride have strong egos whereas people with unhealthy pride have big egos. People with healthy pride have a quiet, self-assured affirmation of their capabilities. People with unhealthy pride are more aggressive – there is a declaration of personal superiority. They look down on others or put them down. Healthy pride leads to more satisfying and fulfilling relationships. These people prefer to work with others. They are affable and agreeable. Those individuals with unhealthy pride are usually dogmatic, dictatorial, and defensive. Healthy pride has nothing to do with comparing oneself to others but people with unhealthy pride regularly brag about their exaggerated accomplishments. For them it is not about doing their best but doing things better than anyone else. Healthy pride is authentic – is an accurate, realistic estimate of one’s abilities. People with unhealthy pride have exaggerated or distorted claims about their capabilities which leads to bragging, arrogance and deceit. People with healthy pride are frequently successful whereas people with  unhealthy pride frequently fail. People with healthy pride motivate and inspire others and share their successes. People with unhealthy pride try to control others. They don’t want to share successes. Healthy pride, unlike the unhealthy variety, is not egocentric. And that is why those with healthy pride can take pride not just in their own accomplishments but in those of others as well. They can be proud of their children, their spouse, parents, friends, students. They are proud of anyone who has struggled to overcome an impediment, or who made sacrifices in an all-out effort to do something remarkable.  Is there anything wrong with that?  Not at all.  In fact, it is a good thing.  The pride demonstrated in the story of Babel was clearly an example of the unhealthy kind.

One has to wonder in today’s world:  Have we forgotten the lessons and consequences of the flood and Babel?  We frequently hear of people killing other people for no reason.  Nowhere seems to be safe -not schools or concerts or malls or other public places.  We have world leaders as well as US politicians who demonstrate unhealthy pride and seem only interested in advancing their own agendas, forgetting about we, the people, whom they are supposed to represent.

Rabbi Sacks notes that the flood and the tower of Babel, though polar opposites, are linked, and the entire parashah of Noah is a brilliant study in the human condition. There were individualistic cultures and there were collective ones, both failed, the former because they lead to anarchy and violence, the latter because they lead to oppression and tyranny. After the two great failures of the flood and Babel, Abraham was called on to create a new form of social order that would give honor to the individual and the collective, personal responsibility and the common good. That remains the special gift of Jews and Judaism to the world.

Parasha Ki Tavo contains one of the most powerful and frightening chapters of the entire Torah. First, there are fourteen verses which outline all the good things which will happen to the Jewish people if they obey God faithfully and observe all the divine commandments. That is the good news. Then comes 54 verses warning of the curses that will befall the Israelites if they do not faithfully observe all the commandments. This is the second time in the Torah Moses tells the prophecies of the sufferings that will befall the Jewish people if they fail to honor their mission as the people of God.  The first was in Vayikra.

These curses are referred to as the tochachah which has a number of different English translations:  warning, rebuke, reprimand, admonition.  However, the actual meaning is “to provide proof”.  The purpose of the tochachah is as a prerequisite to teshuva-return to God and self. The purpose of punishment is not to harm, but to guide and direct. This is the most terrifying account portraying various kinds of Jewish suffering in our classic literature.

The curses are downright horrible. They are not just a simple rebuke. They are specific and even somewhat sadistic. The punishments explicitly threatened in this chapter include terrible diseases, conquest by merciless foreign enemies, famine to the point where parents will eat the flesh of their own children, exile and dispersion throughout the world, leading to idolatry and enslavement, and the apocalyptic sulfur and salt will burn the entire land.  Because of its content, for years no one wanted to have the aliyah in which this passage was read. In traditional practice, it is chanted at a very fast speed in a soft, barely audible voice.

What is going on here? In Deuteronomy 28:47, the Torah seems to identify the focal reason for all the punishments:” because you had an abundance of everything, you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and a glad heart. Really? You get curses because you aren’t happy? Rabbi Simcha Bunim explains this verse as follows: When joy stimulates a person’s actions, those actions are performed completely and correctly. But when joy is lacking, the actions become slipshod. Therefore, the Torah says, it is imperative to be joyous in the service of God. Otherwise, the lack of joy and its byproduct – halfhearted observance – will necessitate corrective consequences from God .

It is okay that the Torah brings up reward and punishment. But why the sadistic curses? Yes, maybe we will fail, but is this really how God will punish us? Doesn’t it seem like a little much?

Essentially these curses are warnings and predictions of the terrible fate that will overtake Jews if they neglect or abandon their covenant with God.  The curses are a form of passionate pleading.

While they seem scary, they, too, are necessary. They serve as a reminder that we are chosen people and that with the position comes a special responsibility, and if that trust is breached there will be consequences.

After 40 years of wandering the desert when the Israelites almost reached the promised land, you would think this would be the end of their challenges. But it will not be. To the contrary, it is in the promised land that the challenge will begin – and it will be the hardest of all the challenges because it will not look like a challenge. Moses told the Israelites that their greatest challenges were not slavery but freedom; not poverty but affluence; not danger but security; not homelessness but home. The paradox is that when we have most to thank God for, that is when we are in the greatest danger of not thanking – or even thinking of – God at all.

That is the story of our time. Throughout the almost unbearable centuries of exile, the wanderings, explosions, forced conversions and through the ghettos and progroms, Jews prayed to God, studied his word, kept His commandments, handed on his message to their children, and held fast to their identity as Jews with tenacity awesome in its strength.

When Jews were persecuted, with only a minority of exceptions, they stayed Jews. When Jews are not persecuted – when they reached heights of affluence and achievement – Jews abandoned Judaism unprecedented numbers. That is the tragedy Moses foresaw in the tochachah of this week’s parasha. It is almost as if Jews need suffering to survive.

Accordingly, Nachmonides explains that the warnings are not merely a scare tactic on behalf of God and Moses. They are an actual description of the persecutions that Jews will experience in the future.

If much of Deuteronomy is a prophetic vision or dream, then the tochachah is a nightmare. Reading the curses in the context of our time, after the Holocaust, they sound like terrible forewarning of what, in fact, occurred.

If these verses were not part of the Torah, they could be mistaken for a Holocaust memoir written by concentration camp survivor.” You will serve your enemies, whom the Lord will send against you- -famine, thirst, destitution, and lacking of everything… And your life will hang in suspense before you. Your being will fear night and day, and you will not believe in your life. In the morning, you say if only it were already evening in the evening you’ll say if there were only already morning…”

After experiencing such horrors of the Holocaust, it is only natural to ask,” where was God?” And,” if there really is a God, how could he allow the inhumanity and cruelty of the Holocaust?” No one questions the source of blessing, but after enduring excruciating pain, people begin to have doubts. Perhaps this is why all the suffering is so vividly portrayed in the Torah. How can the Holocaust be used to deny God’s existence when God, himself, informed us that this event will occur? It seems that Moses is doing more than informing us of the troubles which we will experience.  He is telling us not to lose our faith because of them.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says the tochachah raises the most fundamental questions. Is God the God of anger and retribution? The question is most acute in relation to the Holocaust. Why did God not stop the slaughter? To put the dilemma in its sharpest form: either God could not have prevented Auschwitz, or he could but chose not to. If he could not, how then could he be all-powerful? If he could but did not, how can he be all good? These are difficult questions. No tradition has wrestled with them longer or with greater courage than Judaism. There is no answer that will resolve all doubts. The Talmud itself states that God answered every question Moses asked of him except one: Why do bad things happen to good people? There is a profound wisdom in the knowledge that there are some things that will always lie beyond the horizons of human understanding.

But, others argue the Holocaust does not tell us about God but about man. It tells us not about divine justice but about human injustice. The question raised by Auschwitz is not” where was God?” but” where was a man? Where was humanity?”

One principle has always been engraved on the Jewish heart, allowing it to emerge from tragedy with hope intact. It is the principle of” the blessing and the curse” of which Moses spoke so eloquently. When the Jews have suffered, their first reaction is not to blame others but to examine themselves. That is why at times – the times spoken of in the tochachah-have always led to a national renewal, and the worse the times, the greater the renewal. A people capable of seeing suffering is a call from God to return to the covenant, choosing and sanctifying life, is one that can never be defeated because it can never lose hope.

When affluence leads to forgetfulness, and prosperity to religious indifference, we’re in the midst of Judaism’s greatest challenge.

In preparation for Rosh Hashana we read the tochachah. The reason we read this before Rosh Hashanah is because the tochachah is not meant as a punishment. Rather, it serves to cleanse us as we are about to embark on a new year.

Rabbi Sacks says teshuva tells us that history can change because we can change.  We can act differently tomorrow than we did today.

This is the message of the last part of the Torah: the challenges and consequences of choices are the ever-present opportunity for personal growth and advancement.

Shabbat Shalom