Parashat Vayikra, Leviticus 1:1-5:26; Shabbat Zachor, Deuteronomy 25:17-19

The soul laid bare before God.

I love the music of Kurt Weill. The only reason I took High School German was so I could understand Mack the Knife in the original. In North America those familiar with this song from the Threepenny Opera know the Bobby Darin version, or perhaps the Louis Armstrong rendition. Some might be familiar with the German version, Die Moritat von Mackie Messer, because it was used by Ernie Kovacs as the music to accompany many of his sight gags in the golden days of television. There is a world of difference between the 1950's hip North American version and the original 1929 Berlin item which exudes cynicism both in the lyrics of Bertolt Brecht as well as in the music of Kurt Weill. Alas, there is no original cast recording of the Berlin stage production. The song about Mack the Knife which opens the play was actually a last minute addition. It was performed by one of the most popular actors of Weimar Germany, a fellow named Kurt Gerron, who also happened to be Jewish. A few years ago I saw a film about Gerron that forever changed this song for me.

From the height of celebrity in Weimar Germany, Gerron fell into the depth of Nazi hell known as Theresienstadt. There he was given the task of making a film for Nazi propaganda purposes to show the world how wonderful Jewish life was under Nazism. Gerron weighed his decision: The Jewish council told him to do what he must in order to survive. And so the film The Führer Gives a City to the Jews came into existence.

Being the consummate professional, Gerron put his all into the project, making the best film he could. All this is documented in the 2002 film Prisoner of Paradise. There are scenes of soccer games and people at cafes. Children are shown eating fresh bread and fruit. Smiling for the cameras, Gerron's fellow inmates were forced to act as though all were well.

Because the film was made for the Nazis, the once popular Gerron was viewed as a traitor by his community. Not that this made any difference in the long run. The Nazi shark showed his pearly white teeth and Gerron became one more victim of this monster's insatiable appetite.

Why am I reminded of this film on Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat before Purim? Zachor means remember, and on this particular Shabbat we are to remember all those in history who sought to destroy us. Amelek is the symbol of these adversaries from Haman of old to his modern descendants.

Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt —how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!

Deuteronomy 25:17-19

In the Bible Amalek attacks when Israel is famished and tired, striking from behind where one would find the weakest members of the group: The old, the infirm and the very young. Shabbat Zachor is more than a reminder of the evil that threatens to destroy us. It is an exhortation to our moral responsibility in the face of evil.

Nonetheless, this selection from Deuteronomy is the additional reading for this Shabbat. The primary reading is the beginning of the book of Leviticus, Vayikra, a portion that deals with a variety of sacrificial offerings and the proper way of bringing such offerings. While the majority of offerings involve various animal sacrifices, Chapter 2 deals with the simplest of offerings: the meal sacrifice. The chapter begins with the words nefesh ki takriv "when a person brings an offering." Normally, the biblical text uses ish or adam to designate a person. The biblical word for person nefesh is the word we use today for soul. In addition, the cantillation marks for this phrase are an unusual combination. Listen closely and you can hear: This is the soul laid bare before God.

Rabbi Yitzchak said: What distinguishes the meal-offering that the term 'soul' is used? Because the Holy One, Who is Blessed said: "Who normally brings a meal-offering? It is the poor person. I account it as though he had offered Me his very soul".

Talmud, Menachot 104b

The individual, who cannot afford an animal, or even a bird, brings a meal offering. This meal offering is termed kodesh kodashim, most holy (Leviticus 2:9).

Every time I read this parasha the meal offering stands out from the rest of the sacrifices. There is tremendous power in the starkness of the words: In bringing this simplest of offerings, we come before God as our innermost being, nefesh. This is the sacrifice of one who has nothing else to offer and it is considered most holy.

This brings me back to the Weimar superstar Kurt Gerron, physically imprisoned in Theresienstadt and morally incarcerated by an all-too-real Amalek decked out in fancy gloves and jackboots. We remember Amalek; Gerron faced the real thing. What did he accomplish by putting his heart and soul into a project that many viewed as a pact with the devil?

He was a nefesh who brought a sacrifice, offering the best he could, putting his soul into it. Some reports say he hoped to save a few lives by making this film. We know what happened to him once the film was finished. But the results of his efforts are not what Amalek anticipated. Gerron's film allows us to see souls otherwise lost and forgotten. Images that cry out zachor, remember.

One particular image haunts me: It is of group of young children eating fresh bread; in Theresienstadt Kurt Gerron's project made it possible for these children to get a slice of fresh bread, perhaps one slice at the most. For some of these children it was probably the best meal they had had in their young lives.

One slice of bread, a meal offering of the finest flour. Gerron's sacrifice brought a moment of fleeting happiness into their too-short lives. On this Shabbat, when sacrifice and memory are intertwined, this too we must remember.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Ki Tetze, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19

This week’s parasha is in memory of Jane Potts, mother of Adrienne Rosen, Myra White and grandmother of Alana and Sally Rosenwhite.

Remembering Amalek has provided a model of for Jewish survival stretching back to the Bible, reaching out to recent history.

All cultures have ways of symbolizing evil. It could be a particular figure such as a caped villain tying the damsel in distress to the railroad track. It might be a particular color, a sound, or an ominous grouping of musical notes. For Jews, evil is traditionally epitomized by the deeds of Amalek, described at the very end of Ki Tetze:

Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt — how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! (Deut 25:17-19)

These words refer to an event mentioned In Exodus 17:8-13, but the details of Amalek's actions are left for this week's portion. The worst part of this encounter being the attack on the weakest in the group, those who are strategically placed at the rear so they may be protected.

While seemingly out of place with the rest of Ki Tetze, these last few verses dealing with Amalek tie in thematically with it and the many issues of social welfare raised in the Torah portion where the concern is for the weak, the stragglers, captives (especially women), slaves, the poor, and even animals.

Over the course of time, Amalek became synonymous with whatever individual or group posed a threat to Jewish survival. Through these encounters over the millennia, the commandment zachor became imbued with a transcendent vigilance.

Remembering in the Torah most often deals with the relationship between God and Israel. We are to remember all that God has done for us, taking us out of Egypt, ensuring our survival in the wilderness, leading us to the Promised Land. Remembering (zachor) is also a crucial aspect of the commandment dealing with Shabbat. God too remembers. God takes note (pakad) of Sarah, ensuring the continuity of the Covenant. God remembers (zachar) the covenant with our ancestors, takes notice of us and begins the chain of events that will free us from slavery (Ex. 2:24-5).

What are we to remember and how are we to remember? Our relationship to our past has been a crucial element in Judaism which strives to imbue history with transcendent meaning. God's purpose and will unfold through history and this is what we record in our holy works.

This approach to the past is analyzed in Yosef Hayyim Yerushalmi's masterpiece Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory where he describes the Jewish approach to history as "Divine challenge & human response." In the ancient world deities were experienced through nature; Jews encounter the Divine in time and history. We see that in our festivals which commemorate critical interactions with God rather see that in reenacting a primeval myth. It is also evident in the way God's self-description as the God of our ancestors, rather than as a god of creation.

According to Yerushalmi, we keep history alive through memory. As in all cases of remembering, it is a selective memory and we choose to remember God's intervention on our behalf. So the formative event in Judaism, the Exodus from Egypt, omits human heroes as our memory takes shape. Moses appears in the Torah but disappears in the Haggadah. There is only one hero, God.

History disappears with the Talmudic rabbis. They play with time and with characters. Thus the pastoral Isaac studies in a heavenly yeshiva, Moses visits a yeshiva in rabbinic times. They teach us that ein mukdam u-me'uchar ba'torah – there is no "before" or "after" in the Torah. As Yerushalmi points out, the rabbinic sages did not write the history of their own time; their objective was not to record event, but to explore their purpose and meaning.

In Rabbinic interpretation, history has a divine purpose; crucial to that pattern is the commandment to remember Amalek.

Naivete and amnesia always favor the aggressors, the Amalekites in particular. The Amalekites wanted to wipe out an entire people, memory and all; amnesia completes that undone job. Ingenuousness leads to lowering the guard, which encourages attempts at repetition. One of the classic evasions undergirding naivete is the claim that Amalek is long since gone. Only "primitive" people are so cruel, only madmen or people controlled by a Svengali/Hitler type would do such terrible things. The mitzvah of Zachor is a stern reminder that Amalek lives and must be fought. (Rabbi Irving Greenberg The Jewish Way p. 244)

Remembering Amalek has provided a model of for Jewish survival stretching back to the Bible, reaching out to recent history. But today, many in the Jewish community are questioning whether old models will carry us into the future. Just a month ago, a Jewish think tank put together by the Bronfman family met in Utah to ponder the question "Why be Jewish."

The ensuing discussions were wide ranging and often very personal, dealing with topics such as belief in redemption, the disintegration of communal responsibility, the appeal of ecstatic prayer and the deficiencies of existing communal structures.
Absent from the conversations were anti-Semitism, Israel and the Holocaust, the holy trinity of American Jewish identity for the past 60 years. …
"The big question this generation is asking is, 'Why should I be Jewish? How does Judaism influence my life?' The old 'peoplehood' argument doesn't resonate with them." (Sue Fishkoff, JTA Reporter's Notebook, August 3, 2007)

This according to conference organizer, Rabbi Eliyahu Stern.

Are we at a point where our tried-and-true model for Jewish survival has stopped working? Peoplehood is interwoven with historical memory; the latter cannot exist on an individual level. There is nothing wrong with personalizing the issue and attaining deep personal satisfaction from Judaism. But ultimately, Judaism is a communal covenant. Even the instructions in Ki Tetze, though they focus on individuals within a society, are meant to guarantee the stability of the entire community. Our challenge is to integrate the personal and communal, strengthening personal commitment while ensuring communal endurance. Zachor is not only what we remember but how we remember.

Shabbat shalom,
MS