Parashat Ekev, Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25

This week's parasha is sponsored by the Ladovsky family, to honour the
memory of their grandparents Aaron and Sarah Ladovsky, and their father Herman Ladovsky. "They inspired us to put our values and priorities into practice. We are proud of our cherished legacy and appreciate that 'man does not live by bread alone.'"

In times of famine we reach out for Divine help, but that same source is easily forgotten in times of plenty.

As we begin our exploration of Torah together let me express my gratitude for this opportunity. We have all learned a great deal from Baruch's insights and it is somewhat daunting to follow him in writing for this site. Nevertheless, I am very excited to be able to explore the beauty and wisdom of Torah with you. So let us begin...

There are those who say that Judaism is all about food. Our holidays revolve around food or lack thereof, food is central to the identity of the least religious among us, and we have countless jokes that center on eating.

Reading this week’s parasha you might be inclined to agree that we are food obsessed. Toward the very beginning, in Deuteronomy 8:3, we are told that God "subjected you to the hardship of hunger and then gave you manna to eat, which neither you nor your fathers had ever known, in order to teach you that man does not live on bread alone, but that man may live on anything that Adonai decrees." We are reminded of this as we stand on the threshold of the Promised Land, a place that is described as "a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey; a land where you may eat food without stint, where you will lack nothing…" (Deut. 8:8-9) We are also told of the proper etiquette related to food in the very next verse (8:10): "When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to Adonai your God for the good land which God has given you." This last verse forms the basis of the Birkat Hamazon the traditional Grace after Meals that is the topic of a previous Parashat Hashavua.

The manna that God fed us in the desert has been the subject of much speculation. According to the great Israeli scholar Nechama Leibowitz, manna itself was a test:

"We may detect, however, in the wording of the text, that the trial had nothing to do with the instructions governing the manna but with the actual enjoyment of the Heavenly food. The life of luxury and ease they would enjoy in virtue of the manna would constitute the greatest trial of all … would the Israelites continue to fear God and keep His commandments in times of prosperity?"

Perhaps that is why we need the reminder to thank God for our food even once we have entered the land of plenty. But that's not the end of the issue. In the very next chapter, Moses describes his tribulations on our behalf in the context of food. First he recalls his time on the Mount Sinai getting the Ten Commandments:

"I had ascended the mountain to receive the tablets of stone, the Tablets of the Covenant that Adonai had made with you, and I stayed on the mountain forty days and forty nights, eating no bread and drinking no water." (Deut. 9:9)

This is followed by his recollection of what takes place after the incident of the Golden Calf:

"I threw myself down before Adonai — eating no bread and drinking no water forty days and forty nights, as before — because of the great wrong you had committed, doing what displeased Adonai and vexing God." (Deut. 9:18)

It seems that if God bonds with us through food, the bond with Moses is through fasting. The examples presented in our parasha are the extremes. In forty days on the mountain, Moses neither eats nor drinks, yet during his experience of revelation he is as close as is humanly possible to the Divine. In forty years of wandering in the wilderness, our basic needs are met on a daily basis. As with Moses on Mount Sinai, we too had a regular encounter with the Divine, through God's take-out service, the specialty of the house being manna. At a time when there was the possibility of thirst and famine, we experienced God daily. Now, on the edge of a land "flowing with milk and honey" (Deut. 11:8) there is Divine anxiety that we will forget that bonding experience symbolized by food.

Food and bonding go together in the human experience. Think of it this way: A parent feeding a child provides more than nutrition. There is nurturing that takes place in our earliest mealtime relationships. Experts remind us of the importance of family meals. As we mature we discover the joys of a romantic dinner for two. All of these fulfill our craving for community, consumption, and companionship.

But Ekev exposes a hazard that can be the outcome of the overabundance of food our ancestors would enjoy in the land of Israel. There is a danger that comes with too much of a good thing. In times of famine we reach out for Divine help, but that same source is easily forgotten in times of plenty. Writing in Eat and Be Satisfied, John Cooper quotes a medieval French document cautioning that "gross overeating is as dangerous to the body as a sword, besides that it bars one from occupation with the law of God and the reverence due to him."

To put it in modern terms, a recent Time Magazine article called "How the World Eats" (June 11, 2007) notes that as economies expand, family meal time decreases. Countries where families once gathered for two meals a day are now experiencing a shift to one shared meal. North Americans are lucky to have a few family meals a week, let alone on a daily basis. And how often is God a guest at the dinner table?

The blessing of bounty thus carries with it the curse of complacency. This is the greatest danger our ancestors faced as they prepared to set foot in the land flowing with milk and honey. This is the danger we face today. The more we have, the more we take for granted – be it possessions, people or God. Ekev reminds us that food in Judaism goes beyond nourishment, it nurtures relationships; more than simple nutrition for the body, it truly is soul food.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parshat Va'etchanan, Deut. 3:23-7:11

This week's parasha is sponsored by Linda Halton in memory of her parents William and Freda Brayer.

This is my very last parasha as parasha columnist- and what a parasha to end on! Parashat Va'etchanan includes the reiteration of the Ten Commandments and the central prayer of the Shma and Ve'ahavta. Both the Hebrew (in the Torah, Aseret Hadvarim) and the English/Greek term, decalogue, literally mean the ten words. Note that in Hebrew they are never referred to as the Ten Mitzvot, even though that is the Hebrew word for commandment. The Rabbis call them the Aseret HaDibrot-- the ten utterances. No one refers to them as the ten suggestions either.

Originally the Ten Commandments were included in the daily liturgy, but they were removed to avoid over emphasizing them. Although the Torah gives these ten central billing, according to rabbinic tradition there are 613 mitzvot. After the Ten Commandments were removed the Rabbis demonstrated that the Ten Commandments could be found, hidden in phrases in the Ve'ahavta (also found in our parashah) anyway. For example, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai is our God is #1 (I am Adonai your God), Adonai is one is #2 (You shall not have other gods...), this day... is #4 (Shabbat), lying down is #7 (adultery) etc. See if you can find all ten (let me know if you need help).

To further connect the taryag mitzvot to the decalogue, the Rabbis also try to collapse all 613 into the categories of Ten Commandments. The idea of 'Ten Commandments' is so pervasive, one can find numerous versions applied to modern fields: "The Ten Commandments of Good Web Design" "the Ten Commandments of Video Gaming" and "Google's Ten Things," etc. Can I reduce the spiritual lessons in my columns to ten?

Over the three years, I have written about many topics from lentils to mandrakes, from the identity of the mysterious tachash to the origin and significance of the blue thread in tzitzit. Every week I tried to include a spiritual lesson. Last year (5766) when I wrote about the Haftarot or the connection between the Haftarah and the Torah portion I included the take-away message in a pull quote and that year's index has each of these listed, serving as a partial table of contents. This past year, too, (up until the end of the fourth book) I continued with this, so the archive page has a similar list for this current year.

In our new blog format that we began this month, in addition to the 'comments' feature (thanks to the brave individuals who took my challenge last week and tried it out- proving it works! so please visit and share your comments), another feature of the blog is "labels." As Rabbi Shekel writes each week, she adds 'tags' so after a few months there will be dozens of key words that can be used as a topical index. Want to see every blog that talked about 'food' or 'identity' etc.? Just use the labels feature found in the sidebar on right. You can also search this blog with the 'search blog box' found on the blue navigational bar at the top of the web page or, of course, if you are a looking for a particular word you can always search Kolel's entire site with our new enhanced search tool from the front page.

But my first year's columns has neither labels nor an index of titles. Could I retroactively add 'labels' to the columns I wrote? What themes would I find? Here is my list of 10 key themes (in no particular order) and the parasha columns that included them. This is a rough guide; one parasha may contain elements of more than one theme:

• harmony and diversity: Noah, VaYakhel
  
• Sacred time (Shabbat & holidays): Ki Tisa, Emor
  
• culture and identity: Toldot, Miketz, Matot, Re'eh
  
• nature and the environment: VaYetze, Bo, Shoftim, Ha'azinu
  
• the evolution of meaning and interpretation of biblical texts: VaYera, Beha'alotecha, Korach, Vayelech
  
• gender and issues of equality: Breishit
  
• the nature of ritual: VaYechi, Tzav, Shmini, Tazria, Metzora, Acharei Mot, Bechukotai, Naso, Chukat, Balak, Ekev
• prayers and blessings: Chaye Sarah, Behar
• relationship with others, justice and peace: Lech Lecha, VaYishlach, VaYigash
  
• personal spirituality: expressing gratitude, teshuvah and our relationship with the Divine: VaYeshev, Shmot, Va'era, Bo, Yitro, Terumah, Tetzaveh, Pekudei, VaYikra, Bamidbar, Shlach Lecha, Masei, Devarim, Ki Tavo, Nitzavim
  

Kolel now has an incredible library of weekly parasha columns- if you ever have to write a dvar Torah, use the archives. There is also a useful 'how to write a dvar Torah' unit. Writing every week hasn't always been easy; some weeks were more of a challenge than others. As I write this final email, I am feeling saddened, but also a little relieved. I realize how much I have really enjoyed writing, and how much I've learned and changed and grown over these last three years.

So in summary what have I tried to express? A spiritual life of Judaism means living in harmony with others and with nature, feeling awe and expressing gratitude, helping to make the world a better place and taking time every week to be refreshed and using ritual and classical texts to connect to community and our sacred heritage.

Rabbi Harold Kushner taught me that Torah is like a mirror: the mirror never changes, but everyone who looks in it sees a different face. I have been privileged to look in that mirror every week for three years with you and I feel truly blessed to have learned, taught, and reflect back to you what I've seen.

Have a great summer,

Shabbat Shalom,

BDS

Parshat Devarim, Deut. 1:1-3:22

This week's parasha has been sponsored in memory of Morris Browns, father of Baruch Sienna, by Wayne Haymer.

"I am not a man of words..."

Words. Words. Words.
I have certainly written a lot of them. Over the last three years, I have been Kolel's weekly parasha columnist, and this week, I write my penultimate column. (This is probably my last opportunity to use that favourite word: penultimate!) Like Moses, I have never considered myself ish d'varim 'a man of words,' and most of the time, am happy to let others do most of the talking (Unless I am the teacher in front of a classroom!). As Tevye remarks, after misquoting the Torah twice to be told that the speaker was in fact Moses, not King David, he says, "Well for someone who stuttered, he sure talked a lot!"

Moses probably had some sort of speech impediment, and although Rashi's commentary popularized the midrashic image of Moshe as 'stutterer', there are cogent interpretations for other possibilities, such the inability to make certain sounds correctly (Ibn Ezra) like a lisp, or perhaps, just being 'stage-shy' and not liking speaking in front of groups. Ironically, the man who reticently took on the role of God's prophet, ends the Torah with his own book, the Book of Words. Moses had a speech impediment, yet he saves the Jewish people with words.

This week of Parashat Devarim, (the first Parasha of a book always has the same name as the book itself- for the same reason- they both are named for the first important word), also always falls in the week before Tisha b'Av. The period between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av is a mourning period for the destruction of the Jewish Temples, and this week we begin this month of Av. Much of Jewish culture resides in this month; for many Jews, the themes of loss and mourning are the central pillar of Jewish culture.

The month of 'Av' connects midrashically to the book of D'varim another way: Av is spelled with only two Hebrew letters: aleph-beit. Like in English, (from the Greek), the Hebrew word for alphabet, is made by combining its first two letters: aleph-beit. The month of 'Av' represents the 'alphabet' of the words of D'varim. Aleph is silent. Beit, the first letter of the Torah, means house. We move from aleph to beit. The silence of the wilderness must be transformed into a dwelling place for Torah.

Of course the Torah begins with words too; God's words. Unlike many ancient cosmologies, where the earth is created by the gods copulating, or a god sneezing, the Torah imagines the world being created by God's speech. As we say in the morning liturgy, "Baruch she-amar vehayah ha'olam- Blesed is the One who spoke, and the world came into being." In terms of Kolel's parasha, we can translate it literally: Baruch spoke, and [the Kolel] world [wide web] came into being!

The book of Deuteronomy has little new in it. Moses begins to repeat himself. In fact the Rabbis call the book, Mishneh Torah, (the repetition of the Torah- not to be confused with the Ramban's book of Jewish law by the same name). In this week's parashah, Moses undertakes to "expound this Torah" and then God says to Moses, "You have stayed long enough at this mountain..."(1:6). Like Moses, I have tried to expound the Torah each week, and I don't want to start repeating myself and overstay my welcome. Like Moses, the time has come to pass the torch. The Rabbis say, 'There are seventy facets to the Torah' and in Pirkei Avot, the Sayings of the Sages, Ben Bag Bag says, 'Turn it, turn it, for everything is in it', but I believe that I have said everything there is (for me to say). I have heard from rabbi friends, that a professor of homiletics says that every rabbi gives only one sermon. What that means, is that although the stories and words are different each week, ultimately, every person has a 'life-story' or message that is consistently communicated. That is why I am glad that there will be a new voice with Rabbi Shekel starting after next week. (I have already peaked at her upcoming columns, and they are wonderful: fresh, funny, contemporary and profound.

One more exciting announcement, though. Together with Rabbi Shekel's new authorship, we are also moving (as you can see) to a new blog format for the parasha on the website. Even though thousands of individuals receive and read our parasha, I have always been surprised by how little feedback we receive, even after a particularly controversial topic or radical dvar Torah, and I hope this blog will encourage readers to post their comments. (Make your comments by clicking on the 'comments link' below; in order to minimize vandals and spambots, you must sign in to use this feature).

Next week, I'll sign off, but am continuing on a very significant and exciting web project for Kolel that I will share with you in the coming year. Until then Moses instructs the Israelites to leave the mountain, "Start out and make your way ..." (1:7)

Shabbat Shalom

BDS

Parshat Matot-Masei

This week's parasha is sponsored by Shari and Ron Silverstein and family in memory of Morris Browns, father of Baruch Sienna.

Life is a journey, a sacred pilgrimage

This week we conclude the Book of B'midbar with a double portion: Matot-Masei. And even though we don't read the final chapters of our story for another two months as Moses recapitulates the Israelites' adventures in the concluding book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) this is the end of the trip. The Israelites are camped on the east side of the Jordan, Moses has been told to ascend the mountain, and except for Moses' death that we will read about in Deut. 34, for all intents and purposes, the narrative is over.

The short (only two chapters), final parasha of Masei is a travel agents' itinerary: where we went and where we stopped. Most of the forty-two place names no longer have any significance to us, and the commentators disagree on why it is important for the Torah to include these details. Surprisingly, the main stop Mt. Sinai is not included. The trip begins with the exodus from Egypt, central to the biblical narrative. In the Torah, we are reminded of our slavery in order to have empathy and treat the underprivileged and the disadvantaged with compassion, 'because you were slaves in Egypt.' But in the liturgy, we are asked to remember yitzi'at mitzrayim, the exodus from Egypt, not the slavery itself. Exodus comes from the Greek: ex - out of and hodos meaning road. I understand why I must remember being a slave (to have empathy for others), but why must I remember the road trip itself?

Although it is a cliché, perhaps the Torah wants to impress upon us that the point of any journey is the travel itself. The Torah commands us to remember the Israelites' travels because the journey is also a metaphor for our lives, as all of us are 'on our way.' The 'way' is a common religious metaphor: Halacha, the system of Jewish law literally means 'the way,' and the Torah is referred to as a pleasant path: (when we return the Torah to the Ark, we sing: "d'racheha darhei noam-- its paths are pleasant, and all its ways are peace." Other religions refer to the 'way' too. Buddhism commonly refers to the 8-fold path, and the Tao is often translated as 'way.'

Robert Frost uses the fork in the path to illustrate our choices on our paths in his famous poem, 'The Road Not Taken.'

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler...

In this classic verse, Frost understands that we cannot return. Once we set out on our paths, we go down that road. This is different from the concept of journey in the ancient world. Thomas Cahill suggests that life was seen as part of an endless cycle of birth and death; time was like a wheel, spinning ceaselessly. We all were on a 'merry-go-round' of life. What goes around, comes around. There is no progress. The Greeks advanced the concept; we could go on a quest, but we would return to the same place. In Homer's epic Odyssey, Odyseus (Ulysses) journeys to Troy during the Trojan war and then back to his home in Ithica. Through their narrative, the Israelites teach a different message. We embark on a journey, and we end up in a different place from where we started, although the destination eludes us. I don't know if it is a tragedy or simply realistic that the Israelites' journey ends before reaching the land of Israel. For it is not only Moses who does not reach the promised land, it is us, the readers. Yes, I know that if we read on in the book of Joshua, we can enter the land, just like we can 'enter the land of the future' by peaking into our children's and grandchildren's lives. But we ourselves cannot go there. We are on a journey, but the final destination is not important.

I think the Torah's insistence on the journey teaches a profound lesson. We don't stay where we are, but (as they say in Boston), you can't get there from here. Because there is no 'there.' I don't mean that the land of Israel is a figment of the Israelites' imagination, but that our final port of call (wherever it is) is not the destination. (And as a big, big, traveler, you have to believe me on this one). Whether it is a degree or career, or even a vacation spot, the destination is not the thing of value. Many of us often think, "If we could only short-cut the process, and get 'there' without the journey, that would be the greatest." But sometimes the destinations we set out for didn't turn out to be the places we wanted to be. Maybe even because the trip itself changed us. At my niece's graduation this past month from U of T, many individuals were honoured with extraordinary achievements in their fields of study. But what I was struck by was how many hadn't begun in that discipline. Often the dean would introduce the awardee, by saying, "This individual started out studying X, and took a course in Y just out of curiosity." But they discovered a passion and a talent for this new field, achieving the highest standing in this new language, or new specialty. The thing of value, no matter the destination- is the process.

For me, I have almost come to the end of this journey of writing these weekly columns (and I will talk more about what I've learned in the process in my last one; I still have two more). The word, 'journey' comes from the French 'jour' as a 'journey' was originally the amount of travel one could cover in the space of a day. This image of a 'day' is in fact, often used as a metaphor for the journey of our lives: awakening in the morning (birth) with our journey ending with our death (at sunset). This poem by Alvin Fine is found in the Reform prayerbook:

Birth is a beginning, and death a destination;
But life is a journey, a sacred pilgrimage.

Let's make the most of the trip.

Shabbat Shalom,

BDS

Parshat Pinchas

He who succumbs to anger succumbs to bad judgment.

Last week's portion, Balak, concludes with a tale of sexual immorality and idolatry at Shittim, ironically after Balaam's blessing of the Israelites, 'Mah Tovu ohalecha, How goodly are your tents' which is understood by the Rabbis to refer to sexual immodesty (as no tent opened to see a neighbour's tent's opening), and his description of them as 'A people that dwells apart.' The Israelites (at the urging of Moabite women), worship the local deity, Baal Peor. The narrative, however, is ended abruptly and we only read the story's details and its conclusion a week later, at the beginning of this week's portion of Pinchas. Aaron's grandson, Pinchas, (son of Elazar), is granted the reward of the priesthood after skewering two prominent individuals (children of tribal heads) the Israelite, Zimri with the Midianite woman, Cozbi (connoting 'voluptuous' or 'deceiver'). Pinchas stabs the man and woman in their chamber, and the Hebrew has a play on the words for 'chamber' and 'belly' (kubbah, kovatah) that I would render, 'He stabbed them in their private chamber in their 'privates.' '
Some commentators see in Pinchas an antidote to his grandfather Aaron's ways of peace who avoided confrontation so strenuously it also led to the same kind of sexual and idolatrous worship at the Golden Calf. Being too easy-going got Aaron into trouble, but with his hot-tempered grandson the pendulum has swung to the opposite side. Ancient (and even more today, modern, liberal) commentators struggle with Pinchas' rash act and zealous (fanatic?) extremism. We don't have to look far to see this kind of religious violence in the world today. We are troubled because Pinchas is rewarded for his zealousness, and although there are midrashim that try to soften the text, they are limited by the text's clear approval.
Anger and hot-headedness got Moses into trouble too. There are many instances where Moses is reported to be angry (during the Manna, getting the tablets, with Korach). Because of his anger, he breaks the tablets, strikes the rock, and according to the midrash, becomes forgetful. The Talmudic sage, Resh Lakish, taught, "When a person becomes angry, if they are wise, their wisdom departs from them. If they are a prophet, their prophecy departs from them." He learns this from two verses found in next week's portion: "And Moses was furious with the commanders..." (Num. 31:14) followed by "Elazar the priest said unto the men of the armed force that came back from the war, 'This is the instruction that Adonai commanded Moses..." (Num. 31:21). If Adonai commanded Moses, why is Elazar providing the instructions? It must be that the law escaped Moses' memory.
The most famous example of Moses losing his temper was read two weeks ago, in Parshat Chukat. There, Moses (after his sister died) struck the rock instead of speaking to it. The punishment was that Moses would not able to lead the Israelites into the land of Israel. Commentators struggle here too, because after all of Moses' efforts the punishment doesn't seem to fit the crime. But what was the crime? Hitting the rock? Speaking harshly to the Israelites? Not showing faith in God? I think that Moses demonstrated that he could no longer be leader, because he could not control his anger. The midrash teaches, "He who succumbs to anger succumbs to bad judgment."
Of course, Moses wanted desperately to enter the land of Israel, and the midrash has Moses arguing and negotiating with God. But no dice. It is in this week's portion that God tells Moses to 'Ascend the heights of Avarim and view the land that I have given to the Israelites...' Even though there is still a bit of the book of Numbers left, (and the remainder of the book of Deuteronomy, which is like summer re-runs), God is telling Moses that it is soon time for him to die, and that he must pass the reins to a new leader. Rashi asks why does God remind Moses of this here immediately after the story of the daughters of Tzelophechad?
To refresh your memory- the story of these five daughters comes right after another census and the details of how the land is to be divided by tribe and family clan. (Land normally passed from father to son.) Remember that in the intervening 38 years the entire generation that left Egypt has died (except Joshua and Caleb who will enter the land). Among them was a man named Tzelophechad who had no sons but five daughters. Who should get his portion? (They petition Moses saying that it is not fair that they not be given a portion of land. Moses, unsure of what to do, goes to God, who answers, "The plea of Tzelophechad's daughters is just!" and this new law in fact goes on record, "If a man dies without leaving a son, you shall transfer his property to his daughter." Feminists of the world, rejoice. (The postscript of the story is less ideal; the woman must marry within their tribe).
To repeat: What is the connection between the daughters and Moses being asked to go up and appoint Joshua? Rashi suggests that Moses might have gotten the idea, "Hmmm, if the daughters of Tzelophechad could argue with God and have God change the rules of inheritance, maybe I have a chance to get God to let me into the land." But no, just like Pinchas represents a new kind of religious leader from his grandfather, Joshua is to be appointed as successor to replace Moses. Joshua, an 'inspired' leader, is publicly invested with Moses' authority (hod) by Moses laying his hands upon him.
Thinking about passing on leadership seems appropriate this week as I begin my final month as 'parasha columnist'. Hopefully I am not guilty of losing my temper and getting angry, but like Moses, it is time for me to pass the mantle. After 3 years of writing Kolel’s weekly parasha (one year we did haftarot), we are passing the torch to a new voice. (I have three more weeks until the end of July.)
Let me introduce our new contributor: Rabbi Michal Shekel is very excited about doing the weekly parasha for Kolel. She is a firm believer in developing & using internet sources for Jewish education, and has been a longtime teacher at and supporter of Kolel. She is the executive director of the Toronto Board of Rabbis and the interim rabbi of Or Shalom in London Ontario. Ordained at the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, she began her rabbinic studies as a member of the first class of women accepted to the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. She has served congregations in Toronto, Waterloo, Boston, and New Jersey. Rabbi Shekel is the co-editor of the holiday section of myjewishlearning.com and numerous textbooks used in Jewish schools throughout North America. She has contributed articles to a variety of Jewish publications such as Rabbi Goldstein’s The Women’s Torah Commentary. Among the honours she has received, Rabbi Shekel is the recipient of a Bronfman Rabbinic Leadership scholarship. We are proud that she will be our next parasha author and look forward to her voice weekly, beginning with the first parasha of August, Ekev.