Parshat Vaetchanan. What an incredible Parsha. My bar Mitzvah Parsha. Okay, that’s not what makes it so incredible. But it was incredible to me to have the opportunity to chant this entire Parsha to a congregation so many years ago.

Vaetchanan means “and I pleaded”. Moses pleaded to G-d to be able to enter the promised land. But He refused the request. G-d instead only allowed Moses to look down on the promised land from a mountain top. Look, but don’t touch. I also pleaded to G-d so many years ago to be allowed to become an integral part of my people, the Jewish people. Isn’t that what Bar and Bat Mitzvahs are all about? Unlike Moses, my request was granted.

G-d instructed Moses to select Joshua to lead the B’nai Yisroel forward and to ready him for the task. Moses was then told to make his farewell speech to the children of Israel as his time to die had come.

Moses repeated the Ten Commandments and cautioned the B’nai Yisroel to observe them carefully and faithfully in their new land. He recited to them some prayers which have become a significant part of our liturgy; namely, the Shema and the Ve’ahavta (love of G-d). He taught them the mitzvot of Tefillin and Mezuzah. He described their future and told them that they would abandon G-d, but that G-d would not abandon them. Please note how nicely this corresponds to today’s Haftorah, Nachamu, wherein Isaiah comforts the B’nai Yisroel following the destruction of Jerusalem. He similarly notes that although they had abandoned G-d, He will not abandon them. How fitting that Parsha Vaetcahanan and Haftorah Nachamu always follow immediately after Tisha B’Av.

On the other hand, how ironic that we would read about Moshe’s unsuccessful pleadings on the Sabbath of Consolation. This leads to the inevitable question: Did Moses get screwed? The man who gave so much and asked so little for himself is now denied his dream. But notice how Moses reacted. And especially in light of the fact that Moses had just learned of his imminent death. No complaint. Just got back to business. Taught the people. Blessed the people. Praised G-d. Cautioned the people to believe in G-d. Love G-d. Fear G-d. Have faith in G-d.

What an amazing man! What an amazing Parsha! And what an amazing lesson on how to conduct oneself during times of heartache and disappointment!

As many of you know by now, I will be retiring from my medical practice very soon. And no matter how much I try to line up other activities and remain productive in one way or another – docent at the Holocaust and Human Rights Museum, teacher of ESL, etc, etc, the fact remains that an entire, and what has been very productive, part of my life is essentially over. Now don’t get me wrong – the decision to leave practice was, I believe, well founded. And I believe that by leaving now, while I still have at least some mental acuity left (don’t snicker!!) I have the opportunity to engage in other things that will be of help to others.

But still, I’ve turned 70 years old, have medical issues and find myself with more and more cognitive dissonance as people my age come to my office for care. I look at them and think, “Why, that’s how old I am! I don’t feel that old! Medicare, AARP mailings . . .good grief – how did this happen? What day did I miss? And of course, the advertisements – a constant reminder that what used to come naturally now requires medicinal intervention. Instead of telling me how young I look, as used to happen, patients now tell me how good I look for my age!

But in Pirkei Avot. Our Talmudic wisdom teaches that at seventy, one is considered a sage. And that eighty is the age of heroic strength. Maybe there’s hope yet! Each stage of life brings new power and strengths. We gain opportunities for involvement and of input borne of our experiences. We’re taught that each age brings new qualities. First literacy, then achievement, then understanding and wisdom. Victor Frankl, in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, says that he looks at young people who have potential, but that he, HE, has achievements!

In this week’s parashah, Moses begins his valedictory to the Israelites. The man who begged off confronting Pharaoh because, as he said, he was not a man of words, now stands before his people forty years later. And with lots to say! He has indeed acquired words – a moral message. A LIFE message. Moses’s life needed no validation, but he is about to achieve one. One that grew more substantial with the passing of years. Moses will morph from a man of power, who commanded the Israelites in their daily dealings and issues, to Moshe Rabbeinu – our teacher.

Here was Moses. Disappointed that he would not be allowed to enter the Promised Land, who has watched his siblings die before him. They were his partners in many ways – his sources of inspiration. His life seems to be approaching a sad end. So what does he do? Plead with Gd for the opportunity to enter the Promised Land with his people? Live a life of nostalgia, remembering the good times – the crossing of the sea, the building of the tabernacle? Meeting the Master of the Universe on the mountain?

No. Rather, what he is about to do in Deuteronomy was change the entire emphasis of Jewish history. In Deuteronomy, he will set forth for the Israelites a vision of what it is to be a holy people. He will set forth a vision of what a society should look like – one based on individual dignity and of compassion for the downtrodden.

But more than what he said was what he did. Forget the miracles that he worked; forget the threats to Pharaoh. He became a teacher. He teaches that the laws are as they are precisely because we were slaves in the Land of Egypt. He teaches that the Israelites must remember what it was like to be mistreated, so that they will not mistreat. Slavery, he implies, was relatively easy. Freedom will be hard. Moses doesn’t recount what Gd commands them, but rather that what they should do will ultimately be for their own and for society’s good.

The laws that the Israelites are to follow do not come from a powerful ruler who will punish them for misbehavior. They’re not from kings. They come from the Almighty – a still, small voice that is calling them to become a holy people because Gd is holy. Moses understood that he would not be with his people for long, but that his teachings would, hopefully, endure. Military successes can be brief. The mightiest can soon become the second mightiest and be defeated. But spiritual might can last indefinitely.

And more. Moses tells the people that they must themselves become teachers. Several times in Deuteronomy, we will read that Moses begins a lesson with words such as, “When your child asks you,” or, “Teach these words to your children.”

I read that the word Lamud, meaning to learn, or some form of it, appears 17 times in Deuteronomy, but nowhere else in the Torah. We Jews don’t have pyramids or citadels. Jews venerate schooling and teachers. We have thus been called, justifiably, the People of the Book.

Today’s parashah is rather prosaic and by itself rather dull and uninspiring, but it’s the beginning of how Moses became a leader not just for his time, but for all time.

As most of you know from the various devarim I have given over the years, I look to our teachings for inspiration – not for history lessons. We just finished reading the Book of Esther with our own Simcha Shimon Rabeinu, our collective teacher, Fred Nathan. What was most inspirational to me? It was when Haman issued his decree that the Jews be put to death, and Mordechai tells Esther, (I’m paraphrasing) “Perhaps this exact circumstance is why you were placed in the position you now find yourself – as queen. So that you can do something heroic.” I often look at my own circumstances in just that way – maybe this very moment is my chance to make a difference.

(late addition to the D’var)
Just yesterday, I gave a tour to almost 20 teenagers in a program sponsored by the state for “at risk teens.” After bringing them through the gallery, I told them that what they had seen was the grotesque extension of prejudice, hatred and discrimination. In their own lives, they should be upstanders rather than bystanders in the prevention of just the type of hatred they had seen. They really seemed to “get it.” I thought that those teens were the exact reason and purpose for me being in the museum yesterday.

In a similar way, I look at accomplishments of older people and find inspiration. Frank Lloyd Wright designed the Guggenheim Museum at 92; Benjamin Franklin invented the bifocal lens at age 78. And here, today, we read that in his retirement, Moses gave lessons that would inspire Jews for many centuries.

So retirement? Why, I’m just getting started!

Shabbat Shalom

In today’s Parasha Moses describes the commandments of oaths and vows in ongoing oral law; the Israelites battle the Midianites; the tribes of Reuben and Gad negotiate with Moses to allow their people to dwell outside of the Land of Israel for the sake of their livestock and their families. In fact, Moses tells the leaders of the tribes that they need to put children, families and education first.

Today let’s briefly look at the commandments of oaths and vows and why G-d wanted the leaders of the 12 tribes to practice and embrace them.

According to Encyclopedia.com, a vow is a personal promise, where an oath can be a sworn promise made before an institutional authority. Oaths serve as objective guarantees of what is promised. When swearing to tell the truth, one guarantees that what one says is true.

We may think of an oath when one is sworn into a public office to protect the public or when one is sworn in before taking the stand as a defendant or witness in a courtroom or there is also an oath of enlistment for military service members. While we’re on the oath track let’s remember the Hippocratic oath: One of the oldest oaths in history, written by Hippocrates is still held practiced by physicians: to treat the ill to the best of one’s ability, to preserve a patient’s privacy, to teach the secrets of medicine to the next generation, and so on.

Examples of vows can be found from marriage to Buddhism amongst monks (just realized that this is a weird grouping – that is marriage and monks). At any rate, Monks take a vow of silence in order to create proper language and speech. A belief they hold is that not saying everything that comes to mind will help prevent expressing harmful words. As a result, monks may tend to choose words that ‘best suit the moment’ (BuddhismZone.org).

Further, observing a vow of silence can lead to promoting listening abilities. So monks train themselves through a vow of silence to speak less and listen more. By doing so, it said that they can hear others out which in turn helps create not only growth toward enlightenment but also trust in the individual and spoken words.
Today’s Parasha is about trust. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks stated, “If trust breaks down, social relationships break down, and then society depends on law enforcement agencies or some other use of force. When force is widely used, society is no longer free. The only way free human beings can form collaborative and cooperative relationships without recourse to force is by the use of verbal undertakings honored by those who make them.”

This was true for the leaders of the 12 tribes particularly during the battles of the day (as in ‘I have your back’) as it is for those that fight to defend freedom throughout the world. And what were the Israelites fighting for? Perhaps it was enduring freedom they sought since fleeing Egypt.

Rabbi Sacks also points out that, “freedom needs trust; trust needs people to keep their word; and keeping your word means treating words as holy AND vows and oaths as sacrosanct. Only under very special and precisely formulated circumstances can you be released from your undertakings. That is why, as the Israelites approached the holy land where they were to create a free society, they had to be reminded of the sacred character of vows and oaths.”
The temptation to break your word when it fits the moment is easy unless one believes in ‘their word’. That is why a basic belief in an omnipresent and omnipotent G-d who oversees all we think, say and do, and who holds us accountable to our commitments is a key element of this Parasha.

Another example of the general belief in G-d is quoted by John Locke, a 17th century English philosopher who believed that ‘citizenship should not be extended to atheists’ because, essentially, how could one trust another who did not believe in G-d?

It seems that laws about vows and oaths at the end of Bamidbar, as the Israelites approach the holy land, are intentional more than an accident or mere coincidence. A free society depends on trust. Trust depends on keeping your word. Perhaps that is how derech ertez came to be a key quality of character among us by not only our behaviors but also the ideas, language and words we used to create our culture.

Rabbi Eliyahu Saffran sums up the Parasha message best with this quote “While oaths and vows are commandments of Torah, “we would do well to remember the Jewish principle of “derech eretz kadma l’Torah” – meaning that “decency, and kind behavior should precede Torah.”.

So what can we take away from today’s Parsha? When you give your word make sure you understand the consequences or costs of not following through. Bring light to your words through actions that are urgent, sincere, generous and personal. Your words in the form of a vow or oath are like a promise. G-d did not promise stability when creating the covenant with Abraham. He promised that if we believed and followed G-d’s word he would guide and protect us and give us a land flowing with milk and honey.

May our promises vows and oaths bring peace, health and healing for ourselves, our families and our community. Amen and good Shabbos.

There is a book by P.J. Long, a mom who suffered a traumatic brain injury when she fell off a horse. In her book, Gifts from a Broken Jar, she recounts this story from India about a village boy who brought water to a wealthy man.

Every day, the boy walked several miles from the village to the river and back, carrying water in two clay jars, one in his left hand and one in his right. The man paid for the water that was delivered – one full jar and one half full; the jar in one hand was cracked and its water leaked out along the roadside. Over the long months, the boy made many trips carrying water.

One day as he sat to rest before returning to the river, a spirit in the cracked jar spoke to him. “I am sorry, Master, that you have to work harder because of me. If I were perfect like your other jar, you would not need to take so many trips. And you could collect more money! I am sorry that because of me, your life is more challenged.”

The boy was surprised to hear such words. He did not think his life was being tested. He replied to the spirit, “Because of you, I am very lucky. A broken jar makes life beautiful. Come, let me show you.”

Together they walked back to the river. AND, one side of the path was bare and dusty. But along the other side, where water had trickled down from the broken jar, the way was strewn with wildflowers.

PJ Long saw the years of her life following her brain injury reflected in this story. Although her recuperation entailed tremendous struggle, she noted the unexpected gifts along the way. She wrote: “Even though things turned out differently than I might have hoped for three years ago, I now see how a broken jar can make life beautiful.”

This week’s Torah portion reflects this spiritual lesson. Last week’s portion ended with a crisis. The Israelites began to participate in an idolatrous and a orgiastic cult-like manner that led to a plague erupting among the people. Then, a priest named Pinchas killed an Israelite man and a Moabite woman who were ‘in congress’ near the sanctuary, and the plague halted.

God gave Pinchas a covenant of peace for him and for his descendants for all time. However, the text hints that Pinchas’ peace was broken.

The Hebrew letter vav is a vertical line. However, in the Torah scroll, when God gives Pinchas the covenant of peace, the stem of the letter vav in the word shalom does not extend down all the way. As Rabbi Harold Kushner notes, the missing piece of the stem indicates that the kind of peace achieved by violence will always be a “flawed and a incomplete peace.”

Thus, the portion moves from a crisis of broken peace to celebration, the same spiritual arc that PJ followed.

By making peace with our brokenness, we are more likely to cherish life.

Like the broken jar in the story, we must continue to work toward sustaining life. AND, hopefully, the wildflowers of summer will always be present as you continue your journey.

Shabbat Shalom

Parshat Balak, to say the least, is a very unusual and interesting Parsha. To summarize briefly, The B’nai Yisroel were having a field day destroying all of their enemies. Balak, king of Moab, feared that he was next. He could have made friends with the Jewish nation by simply offering them food and water during their journey through the wilderness. But no! This was not the vision of our Jew hating king. Yes, there were anti-Semites even way back then. He concocted a diabolical plan. Get the renowned sorcerer, Bilaam, to curse the Jews. Bilaam, at first, was not anxious to get involved. He had heard of the power of the Jewish G-d. Ultimately, however, he caved in to the pressures exerted by Balak and set out on his donkey to curse the hated Jews. Lo and behold! An angel blocked the donkey from proceeding forward. Bilaam beat his donkey mercilessly trying to get it to move. Then the aha moment happened. The donkey starting speaking and asked Bilaam why he was beating him. Try as he may to curse the Jews, Bilaam’s curses were turned into blessings by G-d.

Stage right, act two. The Jewish people, including Moses, were unaware of the dangers they potentially faced with Balak and Bilaam. Moses learned of these events only after being informed by G-d of their occurrence. Moses, at the time, really had his hands full. The B’nai Yisroel were engaging in their customary habit of complaining. This time they complained about Manna. They didn’t like it and missed real food, especially meat.

Stage left, act three. I’ll title this act: How to really tick off G-d. Simple. Take a forbidden Moabite princess into your tent to engage in forbidden acts with her while making sacrifices to a Moabite god. Hashem, who had just saved the Jews from the curse laden Bilaam, now turned his wrath on the B’nai Yisroel hitting them with a plague worse than covid and wiping out twenty-four thousand Jews lickity split. It took the sharp shooting of Pinchas to put an end to the plague, i.e., a carefully thrown spear that shish kabobbed the offending duo.

Great stories, but do they make any sense? Is the Parsha trying to teach us something? Anything? Let’s look back at the curses/blessings of Bilaam for the answer. G-d had put words in the mouth of Bilaam. Now, we believe that G-d loves us. But where do we ever hear from G-d his expression of love for us? I know, I know. Actions speak louder than words. But sometimes it’s nice to hear those magical three words: I love you.

Check out the G-d inspired blessings of Bilaam. They’re a downright love sonnet. “How goodly are thy tents. O’ Jacob, etc., etc. Okay, if G-d loves us, why the plague? On the other hand, how could the B’nai Yisroel treat G-d in such a disrespectful manner? I have no ready answer for the second question. But regarding the first question, this seems to have been answered by G-d Himself in Hosea. Hosea wondered how G-d could still love the Jewish people given the way they act toward Him. G-d explained to Hosea that the Jewish people are like an unfaithful wife. Despite her infidelity, you still love her and are willing to take her back. Yes, G-d delivered a well-deserved plague, but quickly resumed his loving and caring for the B’nai Yisroel.

Yes folks. Parshat Balak is actually a love story. The story of G-d’s never- ending love for the Jewish people. If you don’t believe me, go ask Bilaam’s donkey.  It will confirm that I am right.

Today’s Torah portion tells the story of Korah the cousin of Moses and Aaron who questions the ‘spirtual leadership’ of the Israelites. Moses defends the divine appointment of Aaron as Kohen Gadol  and clarifies the wearing of Tallit.

Korah has been called the ‘rebel of the Torah’. Did you know that according to historical accounts ‘of the day’,  Korah and Haman were two of the wealthiest people in the world.  Korah supposedly had discovered one of the treasures Joseph had hidden during his reign.

Korah was also a Levite and born in Egypt and one of the Israelites that was witness to the miracles of the Exodus.

Why was Korah considered a ‘rebel’?

Korah’s rebellious nature showed up as a lack of spiritual intent and also a lack of desire to be an Israelite follower in the community at large.   Korah questions -(with great doubt and self-righteous authority) – why Moses and Aaron take on so much responsibility on behalf of the Israelites and actually asks Moses, “…is that not G-d’s responsibility?”

General disbelief, contemptuous statements and attempts to discredit Moses and Aaron appear to come from Korah’s ‘devine disillusionment’. For example, how could the chosen people’s path to freedom be completed with his retired shepherd cousin and his brother Aaron who Korah believes was anointed (by way of nepotism or self-assignment) as the high priest of the ‘Chosen People’.

He was jealous about Aaron’s role that he genuinely believed was his (or perhaps anyone else in the Israelite community). Elitzafan, another cousin of Korah, was also appointed a leader of the Levite family called the Kehot.   Korah had greivances for sure, felt like an outsider and due to his jealous values, wanted more than personal riches could provide.

Another example of Korah’s attempts to discredit Israelite leadership were found in his views and personal  challenge to Moses (and G-d) regarding the Mitzvot of Tallit and specifically tizitzit.

The Torah instructs Jews (men) to wear tzitzit (fringes, tassels, or strings) on the corners of a four-corner garment. Essentially the tallit material can be any shape as long as there are four corners where tizitzit are secured.  Another notable detail is tekhelet – the blue (or turquoise) string as noted in the Torah:

“…and they shall affix a thread of sky blue

What an amazing opportunity. I had previously given a D’var to the Kehilla on Parshat Shelach where, among other things, I explored the sin of the ten spies who warned against entering Israel. I noted that they not only had sinned, but that the punishments handed out were Midah K’neged Midah (measure for measure). In other words, the punishments fit the crime. Today I want to explore Parsha Shelach a step further.

Please understand that the twelve spies were not ordinary men. They were the best of the best. The best man from each tribe or half-tribe was selected by Moses to be sent into the neighboring territory. All twelve spies acknowledged that the land flowed with milk and honey. Ten spies reported seeing giants and noted that in comparison they felt like grasshoppers. Joshua and Caleb, however, adamantly denied being grasshoppers and assured everyone that it was safe to proceed. But the B’nai Yisroel followed the advice of the ten spies. My questions today are what motivated the ten spies to report as they did and what lessons can be learned from this Parsha?

Allow me to add a third question. Didn’t Joshua and Caleb also see giants and recognize that to proceed forward would be dangerous?  Ten spies were pessimistic. They focused on the dangers that lie ahead. Two spies were optimistic. They focused on a land flowing with milk and honey, i.e., a good future. The difference between the two spy groups, however, went far beyond this and provides the key to understanding the main thrust of this Parsha. A review of the Parsha makes it clear that G-d was very unhappy with the B’nai Yisroel.  Chapter 14, sentences 26 through 38, reflect that G-d expressed his anger to Moses and Aaron. When would the murmuring of the B’nai Yisroel against Him stop? The punishments that followed were harsh. The ten spies died immediately. The B’nai Yisroel would spend the next forty years wandering in the wilderness. This allowed sufficient time for all males aged twenty to sixty who opposed G-d’s plan to die. One year of wandering was given for each of the forty days the spies searched out the land. Joshua and Caleb would survive to later lead the B’nai Yisroel into the promised land.

The main gist of the Parsha should now be clear. Ten spies had lacked faith in G-d. Their fear of the unknown had overwhelmed them. This fear and their lack of faith was readily absorbed by the B’nai Yisroel. Joshua’s and Caleb’s faith, on the other hand, did not waiver. A lesson to be drawn from this is to not allow fear of the unknown to diminish one’s faith in G-d. Query: What about fear of covid?

My eldest son, David, has another interesting take on this Parsha.  What the ten spies and the B’nai Yisroel lacked, he suggests, is adherence to the Dayeinu Principle. Think of the song we sing at the Passover seder. G-d had already done so much for the B’nai Yisroel. How did they respond? Complaint after complaint after complaint. If they only had shown some recognition to G-d for what He had already given them, then the punishments that followed may have been lessened. Certainly, this provides another good lesson. Be satisfied with what we have and with all G-d has given us rather than complain about that which we lack.

Putting everything together results in one mighty powerful lesson. Recognize all the good G-d has done for you. Show some appreciation.  Voice some gratitude. And never allow fear of the unknown to diminish your faith in G-d. He will continue to do well by you now and in the future. He will protect you from that which you fear. And remember that G-d has given you free will. Recognize that the choice is always yours to make: wander forty more years in the wilderness or enter the promised land.

In today’s parashah, we find the ancient and very famous Priestly Blessing. For those of you who would like to refer to it during my D’var, it is Ch 6, v. 23-25 on Pg 804 in Etz Chaim.Truthfully, after all these years, I think its translation needs to be . . . freshened up a bit.

History – An amulet found in 1979 appears to be among the oldest Biblical texts ever found. It was apparently on a silver scroll that was only an inch or so long. I’m not exactly sure of how the scroll was rolled, but it took three years before archaeologists could finally agree on how to unroll it without having it disintegrate. It dates back to the sixth century BCE – the days of Jeremiah, during the first temple period.The scroll is several hundred years older than the other Dead Sea Scrolls, and is on display in the Israel Museum.

The traditional recitation. During the repetition of the amidah, when the blessing is part of the liturgy, the kohaneem gather in front of the congregation. Their hands are washed by the levites, they remove their shoes and they cover their heads and hands with their tallit. The procedure by which the Priestly Blessing is conferred is also called a duchanning, for the duchan, or platform from which it is performed.

The Kohen raises his hands, with the palms facing downward and the thumbs of his outspread hands touching. The four fingers on each hand are customarily split into two sets of two fingers each (thus forming the letter Shin (שׁ), an emblem for Shaddai, “Almighty [G-d]”), while the kohaneem do not look at the congregation and vice-versa.

This Jewish ceremony is sometimes called Nesiat Kapayim, the “lifting of the hands.” Tradition states the Divine Presence would shine through the fingers of the priests as they blessed the people, and no one was allowed to look at the shin out of respect for God

The hands are covered by their tallit. The prayer leader melodically chants the words and the kohaneem repeat it.

There are all sorts of restrictions. For instance, a kohen is not to participate if he is under the influence of alcohol.

What the words mean: my contention is this: With other verses in the Torah, we’re told that there is no redundancy. No words are wasted. But at first glance, it appears that there may be some repetition here. If you look at pg. 804 in Etz Chaim, the translation of the first portion of all three verses seem to present some repetition. Bless you, deal kindly with you, bestow his (??) favor upon you. The translation and commentary leave me wanting better explanations. We can and should do better! So without changing things too much, I have my own interpretation that give the entire blessing more meaning. So here are the three verses, six components, each of which is distinct because this is, after all, the Torah.

Now, who am I to offer what I think is a better alternative to this and other sources? As with other many other commentaries of mine, I’m a bit of an outlier, so this will come as no surprise. And I have it on good authority that Gd loves this sort of stuff (Pirkei Avot 5:19 – arguments for the sake of heaven). So here goes.

First verse. Yiverechecha ad’ai v’yishmerecha. May Gd bless you and protect you. What does it mean to bless someone? Does it involve mainly tangible gifts, as is typically what is meant when said in a Biblical context? Is it a hope for other good things to happen? Haven’t we all had blessings and curses? For some time, it has been exasperating to me, and makes little sense. It makes more sense when someone says, “You have been a blessing to me.” OK – I understand that to mean that you have been something good in my life. Fine. But to confer a blessing on someone? What does that even mean?

So given that we all have been blessed and that we have all been, in some measure, cursed, I’ve come up with slightly different wording. With all due apologies to Moses, who I think may have misremembered what he heard Gd say, how about, “May you be shown Gd’s blessings.” That is, may you recognize them. Appreciate them. Too many people spend too much time griping about the bad things that happen to them and don’t take proper time to give thanks for the good things that have been bestowed on them. And to take that time would make one much happier and more content. It would help keep the bad stuff in its proper perspective.

And what about, “and protect you.” From what? Maybe from being harmed. So here it is:

May you appreciate Gd’s blessings and may Gd protect you from harm.

A little wordy, perhaps, but it gets to the true meaning, at least for me. If you can simplify it further, please let me know.

Second verse. Ya’er ad’ai ponov ailecha v’yichunecha. May Gd deal kindly and graciously with you. Kind – I read a real mishmash of stuff about what this means. Given that redundancy is to be avoided within a verse and between verses, we must get to a distinction from “blessing” here.

Of the many emails I have received since the announcement of my retirement, the ones of which I’m most proud – the ones I would show my parents (a good guide, no?) are the ones that recount my kindness to an elderly parent or spouse. The time I took with them when they were ill. Of course, I’m going to know how to treat a heart attack, but showing kindness and having it be appreciated . . . those notes were the most touching to me. So how about this: “May Gd show you kindness.” That is, yes, be kind to you, but also, show you what kindness is; demonstrate it, so it will be apparent to you and you can then emulate it and be kind to others.

And the second part. Deal graciously with you. To me, grace here means divine mercy. We all screw up. In this blessing, we are simply asking that Gd realizes that good people sometimes make mistakes, and we are asking for Gd’s grace in dealing with us. For the whole verse, I like,

May Gd show you kindness and be gracious to you.

Third verse. Yisor ad’ai ponov aelecha v’yosem l’cha shalom. May Gd show you favor and grant you peace. Show you favor. Pretty simple. May Gd be good to you. And peace. What does this mean? Maybe contentment. For the blessing, maybe the word “peace” will do. I don’t think I would change a thing there. And what a nice way to end the D’var.

May Gd show you favor and grant you peace.  Amen.  Shabbat Shalom

This week’s Parashah reveals Hashem’s indescribable love for His people.

The prophet Hoshea opens with warm words of blessing and says, “The Jewish people will be likened to the sand of the sea that cannot be measured or counted.” Hoshea digresses then and says, “And in place of not being recognized as My nation, they will be regarded as ‘the sons of Hashem.’” This passage indicates that, prior to this prophecy, they experienced serious rejection. In truth, the preceding chapter reveals that they temporarily forfeited their prominent status of Hashem’s people. Yet, one passage later we find Hashem blessing His people in an unlimited capacity conveying upon them the elevated status of “sons of Hashem.” His sudden and drastic change is amazing, from total rejection to full acceptance in an unparalleled way.

What brought about this change and

what can we learn from it?

Hoshea’s prophecy is a seemingly contradictory presentation of the relationship between the Jews and G-d. On the one hand, Hoshea compares the Jews to a Harlot who betrays her husband and cannot in good conscience claim that her husband has fathered her children. On the other hand, Hoshea concludes his prophecy with G-d’s promise that he will never abandon the Jews; and, that despite the nation’s betrayal and disloyalty, the children are still His.

In order to understand this prophecy, a little background is in order. G-d had stated to Hoshea that the Jews had sinned. Hoshea responded by suggesting to Hashem that He exchange the Jews for another nation. It was Hoshea’s responsibility as a prophet, to follow Moshe’s example and fight on behalf of the nation, not reaffirm their guilt and sins. In essence, Hoshea had spoken Lashon Harah about the Jews.

As a part of Hoshea’s training, Hashem instructed him to marry a woman who was a prostitute. He fathers three children to whom he gave unusual names reflecting his personal frustration with the Jews. He named his oldest Yizrael – The G-d Who plants. His second child, a daughter, he names Lo Ruchamah – One who does not deserve mercy. And, a third child, a boy, he named Lo Ami – Not My nation.

Hashem then told him to send away his wife and children. Hoshea begged G-d to rescind His order because he loved his family and did not want to be apart from them. G-d then says to him, and listen to Me carefully, “isn’t your wife a prostitute, and you don’t even know if your children are yours? Yet you love them! So too is my relationship with the Jews. No matter how they betray me I still love them – and, do not want to be apart from them!”

The final words of the Haftorah capture the eternity of G-d’s love for His Chosen People. “I shall marry you to Me forever…”

He therefore elevated them from their previous status of merely being his people, to the highly coveted status of His children.

Shabbat Shalom

Janusz Korczak was the pen name for Henryk Goldschmidt. He was an author of children’s books in Poland before WWII. He eventually ran an orphanage in Warsaw. He, the social workers and all the children were gathered by the Naziis and sent into the Warsaw Ghetto during the war.  He was given the opportunity to leave, since he had been in the Polish army, but he refused. He chose to stay with the children and ultimately accompanied his 192 orphans to Treblinka, never to be heard from again.

The opening verses of today’s parashah begin with the promise of how we will be rewarded if we follow Gd’s laws. The Israelites are implored to accept Gd’s invitation into Gd’s mitzvot as a means of traveling along a journey – a personal and collective path, just as we are on our own journeys. And Gd tells the Israelites in the Torah portion today that if they perform Gd’s work, “I will be your Gd and you will be my people.”

Still, as with Janusz Korczac, bad things happened and continue to happen to very good people. Many cultures and religions encourage and praise the acceptance of the tragic human condition. Be stoic. It was meant to be. Have faith. Indeed, maybe it will all make sense at some point in time. But to me, there is nothing rational or inevitable about hope and optimism. No one promises us that this optimism and hope will be justified or that a bright future awaits. And stoic? Oy Gevalt!! No one ever accused Jews of being stoic in the face of adversity!

Although our people has faced untold persecution and prejudice through the centuries, we continued to have faith and hope. We continued to have children no matter the circumstances in which we found ourselves. We acted in an entirely irrational way, teaching our children in makeshift schools in the ghetto of Warsaw. Even in Siracusa, Sicily, which Nancy and I visited in 2016, in the days leading up to the Inquisition, Jews tried to hide their mikvah on their way out by pouring sand in the bath and hoping they would return one day!

Theodicy – the reconciliation of a fundamentally good Gd with a world that is so bad in so many ways – has been the subject of more books than we can count.

 In today’s parashah, we read of the terrible fate that awaits us at the hands of God if we do not follow all of Gd’s mitzvot. But the parashah does not end there. After all of this hardship that may come our way, Gd says, “I will remember them. I will not reject them. I will remember my covenant.” The lesson is clear. No fate is so bleak as to preclude all hope and optimism. No defeat is final. Our ultimate fate is not cast. Tragedy need not be the end of the story.

So is the justification for the Holocaust that the people rejected Gd’s ways and lived in sin, and they were collectively punished? Even those who were observant? Even those who clothed the naked and fed the poor? Even children? Please. It’s enough to make one downright secular. No, for me there is no quid pro quo. Do good and you will be rewarded? Do bad and you will be punished? I can’t abide by that. So where does that leave me?

The three cornerstones of my belief are: belief in a creator, the miracle of Jewish survival, and the fundamental truths and teachings of Judaism that have endured and have been incorporated by other peoples throughout history. All three of these foundational pieces mandate that I – we – have a purpose, and that purpose begins with helping make the world better by becoming Gd’s partner in the unfolding history of humankind.

And even If it winds up that I am wrong, I would still not feel as though my life was spent in vain. Oh, I will perhaps wish that I could have enjoyed shrimp scampi or a BLT sandwich, but still, still, I would not have given up these Shabbat mornings here at the kehillah with friends, and I would not have regretted learning Torah to the extent I have, because those things have given me much joy and sense of purpose. So if all this Jewish and Gd stuff turns out to be a delusion, as delusions go, this is a pretty good one. And in fact, it’s so good, that I believe it may really not be delusional at all.

Well, 57 years have come and gone and I’m still coming to shul. Still trying my best to fulfill Gd’s commandments and my people’s teachings and to do what Gd has set out for me to achieve in my life. In the writing of our most sacred book, the Torah, if even a single letter of the book is missing or misshapen, it must be corrected, or the Torah is considered treif. I am a  letter and my letter as part of the book of the Jewish people must not be missing. And it must not be misshapen. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes in his book, A Letter in the Scroll: “I am just a single letter in the words that are our community. Our community is just a sentence in the chapter about today’s Jewish people. And this chapter is part of the book of the history of the Jewish people.”

In a section of Sacks’s book which I read every Passover, at our sedar, he says, “I am a Jew because, knowing the story of my people, I hear their call to write the next chapter. I, and my people, have a past, and this past commands me. I am a Jew because only if I remain a Jew will the story of a hundred generations live on in me. I continue their journey because, having come this far, I may not let it and them fail. I cannot be the missing letter in the scroll. I can give no simpler answer, nor do I know a more powerful one.”

As I read at our keheillah sedar, I will conclude with this: On January 1, 2000, the NY Times ran a millennium edition to celebrate the paper’s 100th anniversary. The special edition ran 3 front pages. One was a replica of the 1/1/1900 edition; one was actual news of 1/1/2000, and one contained the projected headlines from 1/1/2100. On that page, in addition to such items as whether robots should have the right to vote, a small item at the bottom informed New Yorkers of the Shabbat candle lighting time.  The production manager, an Irish Catholic was asked about this item, that seemed so out of place. He responded, “We don’t know what will happen in the year 2100. It’s impossible to predict the future. But of one thing you can be certain. In the year 2100, Jewish women will be lighting Shabbos candles.”

Am Yisrael Chai.

Shabbat Shalom