Parashat Bamidbar "Torah for Everyone"

Before the Sinai Desert was returned to Egypt in the Peace treaty of 1978,  it was possible to take a bus directly from Tel Aviv to the tip of the Sinai Peninsula, Sharm el Sheik.  I boarded that bus alone  on my Spring Break of 1972 when I spent a year in Israel.  I intended to camp out on the beach and snorkel on the reefs of the Red Sea off Sharm El Sheik. At that time Sharm El Sheik had some of the best snorkeling in the world. There were only a few of us on that bus, including a Bedouin man. We traveled for hours through seemingly interminable and vast expanses of wilderness. When we think of “wilderness” in North America, we imagine tracts of virgin forests with wild rivers flowing through them untouched by human hands. We think of nature “untamed” by humankind. The “wilderness of Sinai”, however, is anything but green.  Through the window of my bus I saw immense rugged landscapes of reds and browns, with hills, mountains, canyons and plains passing by.  Suddenly, the Bedouin man traveling with us pulled the cord above the window of the bus, requesting a stop. I looked out the window for a bus stop sign or a bus shelter. The bus pulled over to the shoulder of the road, and the Bedouin got off --- IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!  There was nobody to pick him up, not in a jeep, not on a camel. He descended from the bus and simply took off on foot to heaven knows where.

That is where our Torah portion for the week picks up this Shabbat – BaMidbar – in the wilderness. Elsewhere, the Torah describes the wilderness of Sinai as a “howling wasteland, a land not sown; a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought and darkness, a land where no human being dwells.”  Which raises a question – Why would G-d choose such an inhospitable, barren and forbidding place to give the Jewish people the Torah? Although we sing in our Torah service – Ki Mitzion Tetze Torah – The Torah “goes out” to the world from Jerusalem, G-d decided to give the Torah to the Jewish people in this wilderness. Would it not have been better to wait until they reached the Holy Land in order to bestow the Holy Torah upon the Holy People?

A number of reasons have been put forth for the giving of the Torah in the wilderness. If the Torah had been given in Jerusalem, some say, the Jewish people might have thought that it was relevant only when we were living in the Holy Land or the Holy City. By giving the Torah in the wilderness it was made clear that it was to be followed wherever a Jewish person lived.

Rabbi Tanchuma gives another reason that the Torah was given in the wilderness. He points out that just as nobody owns the wilderness, so no people have exclusive right to the Torah. We can own the Torah, but we are not its owners. It is free and is open to all. A beautiful example of that maxim in action  in our own congregation is the upcoming Adult Bar and Bat Mitzvah service on June 10. Seven people who chose to embrace the Torah as adults will be called to the Torah for aliyahs and will lead the Afternoon Service.

However, one does not have to be Jewish in order to learn from or be inspired by the Torah.  This counts as a third reason why the Torah was given in the wilderness. Were it given in Jerusalem, some say, the Jewish people, and the world, might think it was only for Jews. We might think that only Jews could have a genuine connection to G-d. G-d gave us the Torah in the Wilderness of Sinai to teach us that there is much to learn from Torah for everybody, Jews and non-Jews alike. That is one of the reasons that it means a lot to me as your Rabbi that we often have students and guests during services from different schools and different religious backgrounds. In the process of learning more about Jewish prayer and ritual, they also learn a little Torah.  I also love it that that non-Jewish members of our community at-large come to study with us on Thursday and Shabbat mornings. Some come a few times, and some come regularly for years to study Torah with us. I also know that people from many different religious backgrounds read the sermons that I post on line through our website or my sermon blog.

In the Talmud, Rabbi Hannina Bar Papa gives a sermon where he envisions G-d appearing on the Day of Judgement with a Torah in his arms. God declares, “Whoever occupied him or herself with the study of Torah, come and receive your reward.” This statement is addressed not only to the Jewish people, but to all of the religions and all the nations of the world. This leads Rabbi Meir to comment that “even an idol worshipper who is engaged in the study of Torah is like a Kohen Gadol – a High Priest”. That is, the idolater deserves to be treated with the same degree of respect as the most important leader in Jewish religious life. If any person comes to study Torah out of a search for truth, or to deepen his or her relationship to G-d, then they should be encouraged to explore the wisdom that Judaism has to offer. The Torah, as it states in the Book of Deuteronomy, is a “Morasha Kehillat Ya-akov” – “A precious inheritance of the Jewish People”. It is an inheritance worth sharing with the rest of humanity.

Shabbat Shalom

Charge to our Beth Shalom Confirmation Class 5777

This week we complete the reading of the Book of Leviticus in our synagogues around the world. It is a difficult book for us to read, because it deals mostly with subjects – animal sacrifice and ritual impurity – that are far removed from contemporary concerns. Traditionally this was the book with which young children began their Torah studies. According to the Midrash, children begin their studies with the Book of Leviticus because children are pure and sacrifices are pure, therefore the pure begin their studies with the study of purity.

Half of all of the laws of the Torah are found in the Book of Leviticus. Therefore, it is appropriate that the book would conclude with blessings and warnings. The Torah tells us that if we follow the Laws of Leviticus, we will be blessed. If we fail to follow the laws, bad things will happen to us. The section concludes, “These are the laws, statues and instructions the G-d gave between Him and the Children of Israel on Mt. Sinai through Moses.” It is a fitting culmination to the Book of Leviticus. Except that it is not the end of the Book of Leviticus. There is another chapter after this that deals with laws pertaining to the monetary evaluation of people and of property dedicated to G-d. Some have called this chapter an “appendix” to the Book of Leviticus. They see it as material that perhaps didn’t fit in anywhere else in Leviticus, but it had to go somewhere, so, it was thrown in at the end of the book.

Rabbi Menachem Liebtag teaches says that this conclusion of the Book of Leviticus wasn’t inserted there willy-nilly. It was placed there purposefully to form a bookend with the beginning of Leviticus. He notes that the very beginning of the Book of Leviticus deals with voluntary offerings and obligatory offerings of the individual. This very end of the Book of Leviticus also deals with voluntary offerings and obligatory offerings of the individual. Between these bookends the Book of Leviticus focuses on the holiness of the Jewish nation as a whole and the rigid detail of sacrifice and purity. This might lead one to think that it is solely the holiness of Jewish people as a whole that G-d is concerned with, and that the individual is of little importance on the greater scheme of things.  It also might lead one to believe that there is little room for self-expression or creativity in developing a relationship with G-d, as the way of relating to G-d seems to already be laid before us within an inflexible ritual.

According to Rabbi Liebtag, the strategic position of the texts at the beginning and end of Leviticus stresses two important features of worshiping G-d. The first is that despite the centrality of the community in Jewish life, the individual must never forget how important each one of us is to the whole. Secondly, although ritual can be stringent, and at time uncompromising, we should never allow it to stifle our ability to be creative in developing our own relationship to G-d. 

This is a message that I would like to with leave you, our Confirmation class, as you complete this phase of your Jewish education. Never forget how important each one of you is to the integrity of the Jewish people as a whole. If we should lose your active participation in Jewish life, we will all be diminished. Second, I hope you will use Jewish ritual, not as an end to itself, but as a jumping off point, as a solid foundation, from which you can develop your own special relationship to G-d, a relationship that will energize each of you, and motivate each you, to reach for and develop your full potential as a human being.

The Cantor and I will now give you a blessing. We ask the congregation to rise and respond “Kein Yehi Ratzon” “Thus may it be your will” after each phrase that the Cantor chants. 

Parasha Emor -- What it Means to be a Jew

I am going to give you a quiz tonight. Are you ready? Which one of the following common Jewish surnames does not belong in the group:  Katz; Rappaport; Kahan; Kagan; Kornfeld. ……….  The answer: Kornfeld does not belong with the others.  The rest are all surnames that are associated with being from the priestly class of the Jewish people. If your surname is “Cohen”, for example, it may be that you are descended from the Ko-hens addressed by Moses in this week’s Torah portion –The High Priest Aaron and his sons. The surname “Katz” is an acronym of Kohen Tzedek, or righteous Kohen. The surname Kaplan is an acronym for “Kohen Plony” – or “Ordinary Kohen”. The surname “Kagan” is the Russian version of Kohen with the “g” replacing the “h”, since there is no “h” sound in Russian. If your family surname is “Rapoport” you may be descended from a well-known family of priests, the Rapas or Porto, Italy. “Barkans” are “bar-kohens”, literally, sons of Kohens. The surname “Mazar” is an acronym of “Me-zerah Aharon” – from the seed of Aaron.

Of course, having one of these surnames does not automatically make one a Kohen. Moreover, you may be a Kohen without having one of these surnames! The only way a person usually knows that they are a Kohen is that their fathers or mothers have told them they are kohens. This information has presumably been passed down through the generations, one family at a time. Another way of discovering if you are a Kohen is by visiting your ancestors at a Jewish cemetery. If, engraved on the monument you find a pair of raised hands, thumbs touching and fingers spread, it means that the person buried there is a Kohen. If that is your paternal grandfather, and you are a male, that makes you a Kohen too.

Although the actor Leonard Nimoy was not a Kohen, he was raised an Orthodox Jew and recalled attending services as a child with his father where the Kohanim blessed the congregation. The Kohanim would get on the bima, cover their heads with their prayer-shawls, and reach out toward the congregation with their fingers splayed as they would intone the Priestly Blessing. Nimoy drew on this gesture when his character, Spock, would give the “Vulcan” greeting “Live long and prosper”.

A number of years ago Dr. Karl Skorecki of the University of Toronto and the Rambam Medical center was in synagogue in Toronto when a visitor was called to the Torah for the first Aliyah. The visitor was identified as a Kohen – a dark skinned Jew from a Sephardi background. Dr. Skorecki, who is a fair skinned Jew of Ashkenazi descent, noted that this man looked quite different from himself. Yet, according to Jewish tradition, both Dr. Skorecki and the visitor were descended from the same man, Aaron the High Priest. Dr. Skorecki, who was involved in the field of molecular genetics, thought that if they were indeed descended from Aaron the Priest, they ought to share a set of genetic markers. He set out to discover if there were indeed genetic markers that Kohanim shared that other Jews did not.  The results of the first study, published in Nature magazine in 1997, revealed that 98% of self-identified Kohens shared a genetic marker on the Y chromosome. This genetic marker is not found among other Jews, or in non-Jewish populations. Further studies and date calculations based on the variation of mutations in the genes of Kohens today revealed that these men shared a common ancestor from 3,300 years ago – the precise time we believe that the Exodus from Egypt occurred, and Aaron would have lived!

In 1999, this research was used to corroborate a tradition of the Lemba Tribe of South Africa and Zimbabwe that they are descendants of Jews from the Middle East. The Lemba are an African tribe whose customs include a ban on pork, male circumcision and ritual slaughter of animals. They also rest one day of the week. There are many African tribes have oral traditions that they are descendants of Biblical Israelites, but the Lemba are the only ones who have the genetic marker on the Y chromosome to support the claim. The genetic signature of priests is particularly prevalent among the men of the senior of the 12 clans of the Lemba, known as the Babu.

Our Parasha for this week opens with G-d telling Moses to “Speak to the Kohanim, the sons of Aaron, and say to them……..”  In examining a text where every word is the word of G-d, and therefore each and every word has significance, the rabbis wondered, “Why does the Torah use the word “speak” and then “say”. Would it not be sufficient for G-d to tell Moses either to “Speak to the sons of Aaron” or “Say to the sons of Aaron”? From the apparently redundant use of “speak” and “say” we can learn a lesson. The word “speak” indicates that source of a Kohen’s holiness is in his genetic relationship to Aaron. The holiness of a Kohen is connected to his being a male descendant of Aaron. That is a necessary but not sufficient source of holiness. So the Torah adds the word “say” to teach that one cannot be satisfied only to be related to Aaron, one must achieve holiness through one’s own effort as well

Long before genetic markers on the Y chromosome could be used to identify a person’s lineage, the Talmud gave us three specific markers that could identify a Jew:  A Jew was a person who demonstrated compassion toward others, modesty, and loving-kindness in all aspects of their lives. Maimonides even writes that if a Jewish person is cruel, there is reason to suspect their lineage! He also writes, “One who has no compassion for his fellow creature cannot possibly be of the seed of Abraham and Sarah!”

Judaism is not passed down by assuming the last name of one’s father. Judaism is not simply carried on a chromosome. It cannot be genetically bequeathed from parent to child. It is an inheritance that cannot simply be passively accepted. Judaism must be actively taken up and embraced through cultivating qualities and values of kindness, modesty and compassion toward others. This is at the heart of what it means to be a Jew.

Shabbat Shalom

Three Strikes and You're a Winner -- Parasha Achare Mot

Dave and Mike, both in their 90s had played professional baseball together and, after they retired, they remained close friends. Dave suddenly fell deathly ill. Mike visited Dave on his deathbed. After they talked a while and it became obvious that Dave had only a few more minutes to live, Mike said, “Listen, old friend. After you die, try and get a message back to me. I want to know if there is baseball in heaven.

With his dying breath, Dave whispers, “If G-d permits, I’ll do my best to get you an answer.”

A few days after Dave died, Mike is sleeping when he hears Dave’s voice.

Dave says, “Mike, I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that, yes, there IS baseball in heaven. The bad news is, you’re scheduled to pitch at the top of tomorrow’s double header.”(Aish.com)

Death is usually no laughing matter. Our parasha for this week opens with reminding us of the death of Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu. They perished on what was perhaps the greatest day of their young lives. The Tabernacle had been completed, and Aaron and his sons had been instructed on how to offer the sacrifices of the people. Seven days of consecration of the Tabernacle had been celebrated. Now, on the eight day, Aaron was to be ordained as the High Priest of Israel and his sons as priests who would serve underneath him. Everything was going according to plan, until two of his sons, Nadav and Avihu decided to offer what the Torah describes as “an alien fire” in the Tabernacle. A fire comes out from the Tabernacle and consumes them. What was to have been the happiest day of their and their parents lives ends in the bitterest of tragedies.

One of the reasons we break a glass at the conclusion of a Jewish wedding ceremony is related to this story. It was once widely believed that demons bent on mischief were particularly attracted to fortunate people – like brides and grooms. Therefore, to ward away bad luck, a glass is broken to scare away the demons. The story of Aaron’s sons reminds us that even at our happiest times, misfortune can come out of nowhere.

It is true, that sometimes life can throw you a curveball. Or, in the case of baseball player Adam Greenberg, it was a fastball. Adam was nervous and excited when he was called to the Big Leagues in July of 2005 by the Chicago Cubs. Not many Jewish kids make it to the Major Leagues. Only 1% of the players in the Major Leagues are Jewish. Since 2% of the population of the United States is Jewish, that makes us vastly underrepresented in Professional baseball. Of course, we are vastly over-represented in other areas – 22% of Nobel Prize Winners, for example, have been Jewish. On the other hand, who would you rather have batting in the bottom of the ninth inning of the World Series with the bases loaded and the tying run on third – Jewish Nobel prize winning quantum physicist Roy J. Glauber or Cubs catcher Kyle Schwarber?  Nobel Prize winning writer Bob Dylan or Cubs infielder Kris Bryant? You don’t have to be Joe Madden to figure that one out!

In any case, Adam Greenberg, Jewish kid from Connecticut, achieves his life ambition of making it to the major leagues.  The young man was a remarkable athlete. He lettered in baseball, basketball and soccer all four years of High School. He was captain of his baseball team for his junior and senior years, was a four-time All-Conference and All-Area, and was the first player in Connecticut history to be named to four All-State teams. He was team captain of his High School soccer team his Junior and Senior years in High School as well. In soccer he was a three-time All-Conference, All-Area, and All-State selection. He was a High School All-American selection in soccer in 1998. He went on to play college baseball for North Carolina. In his Junior year he batted .337, stole 35 bases, scored 80 runs, and homered 17 times. He was named to the All-Conference team and was selected by the Cubs in the 2002 baseball draft.

On July 9, 2005, Greenberg stepped into the batter’s box for his first “at bat” in the Major Leagues. It was the beginning of what he hoped would be a long career in baseball. It was one of the happiest days of Adam Greenberg’s life. His parents, his friends, his entire community back in Connecticut were so proud of him. He had achieved something special. On the mound was Marlins pitcher Valerio de Santos. The first pitch to Greenberg was a 92 mile an hour fastball. It hit him on the back of the head. As Greenberg lay sprawled at home plate the pitcher, de Santos feared that he had killed Greenberg. Greenberg was able to leave the game under his own power. For the next two years he suffered from symptoms of a concussion and vertigo. He felt, however, that he had to continue to fight through those symptoms if he were ever to get a chance to return to the Major Leagues.

Adam Greenberg continued to play baseball professionally but never made it back into the Majors. Then in 2012 he was signed to a one day contract with the Florida Marlins of the National League. Having been hit by a pitch on his only plate appearance, Greenberg had not been credited with an official “at bat” in the Majors. The Marlins would give him an opportunity to play in a game so that he might record an official “at bat”. So on October 2, 2012, Adam Greenberg once again stepped into the batter’s box at Florida’s Marlin Stadium. The atmosphere was electric. As Greenberg walked to the plate in the bottom of the sixth as a pinch hitter, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Aerosmith’s “The Dream” played over the loudspeakers. His new teammates cheered him on. His parents and his friends were watching from box seats. He was facing the Mets knuckleballer R. A. Dickey. Dickey would go on to win the Cy Young Award for the best pitcher in the National League that year. Dickey wound up and threw the first pitch for a strike. The second pitch came in – a swing and a miss!  Greenberg was determined to swing at the next pitch wherever it was. He did not want to be called out on strikes. The pitch came. Greenberg swung for strike three. He would not get another chance to bat. He retired from baseball five months later.

Some people might have considered themselves a failure had they gone through what Adam Greenberg went through. Some people might have become bitter over their bad luck. Not Adam Greenberg. Greenberg said that he learned that it is not about accomplishing your goal that determines success or failure. It is about what you do in the process of accomplishing your goal that is important, the work you do to try to get there.

Adam Greenberg said that he drew upon the lessons of the Jewish people to help him deal with his misfortune. Jews, he said, have had to overcome many obstacles at every stage of our history. Jews have had to persevere. We see that in the story of Aaron and his surviving sons. Although their first day as priests was a tragic one, they too persevered and established a religious institution that would endure for thousands of years.

Shabbat Shalom

Everything Can Wait Shabbat Chol HaMoed Pesach 5777

We Jews seem to do things backwards! We read and write the Hebrew language right to left instead of left to right.  We open a book from the back cover. We remember the day of a person’s death not the day of a person’s birth. A few years ago I spoke about why our High Holidays seem to be backwards. First we celebrate New Year’s Day, and only after, we observe the Day of Atonement. I argued that, on the face of it, it makes more sense to atone for our sins first, and then celebrate the New Year, when we have been cleansed of our sins.  But that seems backwards, too. Tonight, I want to examine another ritual that seems backwards.

This ritual is described in the Torah. It is the ritual of the very first Passover. As you know, while we are still slaves in Egypt, G-d commands us to have a Passover Seder. On the evening of the day we are to leave Egypt, G-d commands the Jewish people to gather with their families, in their homes for a Passover feast. We are to eat of the Passover sacrifice, and we are to eat Matzah and Maror.

What is backwards about that, you may ask. But if we think about it, doesn’t it make more sense for us to have the Passover feast AFTER we have been liberated from Egypt? Should not freedom and independence come first, THEN the celebration? Take the American example. On July 2, 1776, Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence. The Philadelphia Evening Post published the full text of the Declaration of Independence four days later. It wasn’t until July 4, 1777, a full year later, that Congress declared a formal celebration by the adjourning and celebrating with bonfires, bells, and fireworks. This is the principal – act first, celebrate later!

That is why it appears that we got the celebration of the first Passover backwards. The Exodus from Egypt had not yet happened, yet the Jewish people have been commanded to sit down to a family meal to commemorate their upcoming freedom from bondage. Think of all the other things they could have been doing! For one, they could have been home packing in preparation for the journey they would soon undertake. They could have been gathering in their communal halls planning the logistics needed to move hundreds of thousands of newly freed people out of Egypt. They could have been putting the final touches on their own Declaration of Independence. Instead, they are home cooking! They are deciding what kind of barbecue sauce they will use for the roasted lamb. They are chopping herring and making matzah ball soup. They are going house to house, making sure that everyone in the neighborhood has a seat at a Seder somewhere, since nobody can be left out.

Why hold a family dinner before the Exodus?  One reason is that we learn about the importance of the family unit in Jewish life. The central task of passing on the Jewish faith  from one generation to to the next generation lies upon the family. We all know that Religious school can help, as can Jewish summer camp, as can participation in Jewish Youth groups, as can trips to Israel. All of these build Jewish identity, give us a sense of solidarity with and a love for the Jewish people.  But the family is the cornerstone upon which all else rests. And when does the family convene most regularly? It is at the dinner table, around meals.   Eating meals together is of such monumental importance in Jewish family life that the Talmud states that now that the Temple has been destroyed and we can no longer offer sacrifices for atonement, it is the family dinner table that atones for our sins!

Unfortunately, these days, I hear from far too many people that families are too busy to eat together, even for a weekly Shabbat meal. Rabbi Moses Birnbaum tells the story of Rabbi Abraham Besdin, of Brooklyn. A couple approached Rabbi Besdin with marital problems. After meeting with them, he suggested that they commit themselves to having Shabbat dinner together every Friday night. While they were at odds with each other they were of one mind regarding the rabbi's suggestion. How dare he foist his religious fanaticism upon them? They came for marital counseling, after all!

Some years later Rabbi Besdin was at a simkhah. A man approached him and reintroduced himself as the husband who had angrily rejected Rabbi Besdin's advice about Shabbat dinner. The man began to apologize. "You see, rabbi, my wife and I went to a therapist after talking with you. We spent many years and a lot of money. In our last session he finally gave us some expert counsel: 'Why don't you reserve at least one night a week for a romantic meal together by candlelight with a bottle of wine?' We should have listened to you at the outset"

Now we understand that the Torah did not have it backward at all. One might now ask, “What better thing did the Jewish people have to do than sit down with their families for a meal the night before the Exodus from Egypt?” Everything else could wait. That is a message for us as well. Everything else can wait. Make dinner time, especially Shabbat dinner time, a priority for your family. If the Jewish people, anxious to leave the land of their bondage, and with so much else to do, could find time to do this, so could we!

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach

Passover and Parash Tzav: It's No Shame

 Monday evening Jews around the world will gather with families, friends and neighbors for our Seders to tell the story of Passover. The word “seder” is related to the word we use for our prayer book, “siddur”. Both come from the Hebrew root meaning “order”. Just as the Siddur presents our prayers in a particular order, so the Seder rituals must be performed in a particular sequence. The sages of the Talmud said that when we tell the story of the Exodus, we must start with “shame” and end with “praise”. One of those sages, Samuel , suggested that we start with the shameful fact that, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt”. The sage Rav suggested we start our story of liberation even further back in history, when our ancestors worshipped idols. In starting with slavery, Samuel was referring to the physical shame of subjugation and exploitation by others. In starting with idolatry, Rav is referring to the spiritual shame of worshipping that which is naught. The Haggadah incorporates both of their opinions, starting with the story of our physical bondage in Egypt, then doubling back to tell of shame -- that Abraham’s father worshipped idols.

I find it intriguing that in telling of the story of our people, we begin with shame. Usually, we want to hide the things we are ashamed of. We do not want to talk about them, we do not want to remember them and we certainly do not want them exposed to the public eye. We usually want to avoid the humiliation that is associated with shame. One of the worst things that one can do in the Jewish tradition is to shame another in public. This week’s Torah portion teaches a profound moral lesson about this. It speaks of two sacrifices that are brought to the priests. There is the normal, everyday sacrifice called the “Elevation Offering”. This is the most common type of sacrifice that can be brought by an individual, and it is brought when a person seeks spiritual elevation and closeness to G-d. The Torah also speaks of the sacrifice called the “sin offering”. This, as its name implies, is brought only when a person has committed a transgression and is asking for atonement. The Torah says that the “Elevation Offering” and the “Sin Offering” are brought to the priest at the same place. This is not merely a matter of geography.  In this The Torah is being exquisitely sensitive to the issue of shame. If there was one entrance marked “For Elevation Offerings” and one entrance marked, “For Sin Offerings” the public would then know who was in need of forgiveness by which door the person entered. They might be subject to gossip, as people speculate about what the person bringing the sacrifice had done wrong!  Therefore, the Torah legislates that both the Elevation Offering and the Sin Offering are to be brought to the same place. One could say it is a way of guarding the individual’s dignity.

Of course, we no longer have a Temple and we no longer offer sacrifices as a way of worship. But our Sabbath table reminds us of the worship in the Temple. The white tablecloth represents the priestly garb. The candlesticks represent the Menorah that burned continually in the Temple. The Challahs on our table represent the show-bread that was baked weekly and placed in the Holy of Holies. The wine represents the wine libations that were performed each morning at the altar.  There is the story of 19^th century Rabbi, Israel Salanter, who once accepted an invitation for Shabbat dinner at the home of a prominent member of his synagogue. When he and his host were about to sit down, the husband grew angry at his wife for failing to cover the two loaves of Challah on the Shabbat table. The wife broke into tears and fled to the kitchen. 

Rabbi Salanter turned to the man. ‘Excuse me,” he said, “But I am getting older and have recently been having problems with my memory. Can you explain to me again why it is important to cover the two loaves of Challah at the Sabbath table?”

The host explained to Rabbi Salanter that the Challahs are covered as a way for them to be spared the shame, so to speak, of being exposed while all of the ritual attention is being paid to the wine. After he finished, Rabbi Salanter said to him, “You are meticulous about the custom of not “shaming” a mere loaf of bread. Yet how quick you are to embarrass your wife over her oversight of not covering the Challahs. I cannot eat with you.”

The man hurried to the kitchen to plead with his wife to forgive him. Afterwards, Rabbi Salanter consented to remain at the meal.

A number of reasons have been suggested as to why we begin our Passover story with shame. Some say it is important to remember our shame because it makes us more sensitive to those who are oppressed in our own day. By recalling our slavery, not only do we remember what it is like to be a slave, but we are reminded how not to treat others. Others say that recalling our slavery enables us to be that much more thankful to G-d for bringing us out of Egypt. By recalling the shame and humiliation of slavery we increase our gratitude for freedom. These are undoubtedly valid reasons for remembering the disgrace associated with enslavement. However there is never a good reason for shaming others, or recalling their most embarrassing moments. With our Passover holidays are coming up, families will soon gather around our tables for Seders.   I would like to suggest that we ask ourselves,  should we retell the “funny” ,  cute” but shaming  stories that go around the Seder table year after year, while the person  about whom the story is about sits there squirming in mortification?  Are we, ourselves, guilty of telling these stories?  Or, are we the subject of the story, and forced to sit there and endure them?  Is it time to retire those stories? ...... And how can we go about doing that?

I want to leave you with a little poem about the difference between shame and guilt. I am not sure where I got this poem, or who wrote it but it is worth listening to:

SHAME AND GUILT

Shame is not the same as guilt.

When we feel guilt, it's about something we did.
When we feel shame, it's about who we are.

When we feel guilty we need to learn
that it's OK to make mistakes.

When we feel shame we need to learn
that it's OK to be who we are!

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach

Some Reflections on "Chad Gadya"

In 1947, in the wake of the United Kingdom’s decision to relinquish their Mandate for Palestine, the United Nations formed the Special Committee on Palestine. The purpose of the commission was to investigate the conflict in Palestine and to make a recommendation on future governance of the area. David Ben Gurion, the future Prime Minister of Israel, testified before the committee. In part of that testimony, Ben Gurion compared the Exodus from Egypt with another historic exodus. Speaking before the committee he said:

“300 years ago, there came to the New World a boat, and its name was the Mayflower. The Mayflower’s landing on Plymouth Rock was one of the great historical events in the history of England and in the history of America. But I would like to ask any Englishman sitting here on the commission, what day did the Mayflower leave port? What date was it? I’d like to ask the Americans: do they know what date the Mayflower left port in England? How many people were on the boat? Who were their leaders? What kind of food did they eat on the boat? “More than 3300 years ago, long before the Mayflower, our people left Egypt, and every Jew in the world, wherever he is, knows what day they left. And he knows what food they ate. And we still eat that food every anniversary. And we know who our leader was. And we sit down and tell the story to our children and grandchildren in order to guarantee that it will never be forgotten. And we say our two slogans: ‘Now we may be enslaved, but next year, we’ll be a free people.’”

In this statement Ben Gurion seems to be suggesting that it is our capacity to remember that accounts for the longevity of the Jewish people. Perhaps as well it is a subtle warning to the great powers of the time that held Israel’s fate in their hands that they would do well to heed that lesson. Many civilizations have come and gone, yet, the Jewish people, with our prodigious memory, remain. This is the essential meaning of the final song of our Haggadah, Chad Gadya that Jewish families around the world will be singing as we conclude our Passover seders in ten days. There have been many interpretations of what appears to be a typical children’s song.  I’d like to share one of those interpretations with you this evening. 

The song begins with the verse “Chad Gadya” - One kid, which Father bought for two zuzim,” or coins. The kid, or goat, represents the Jewish people. The “Father” who gives two coins, or zuzim, for the kid represents G-d, who gave the Jewish people the two tablets of the law, the Ten Commandments. There follows a series of verses introducing animals, objects and people who in turn slaughter, devour, burn, hit or bite one another. These represent the powerful nations of the world who achieve ascendancy in their time, only to eventually lose their power. The final verse of the song, where the Ruler of the Universe makes His appearance, represents the final judgement and the redemption of the Jewish people.

There has been much speculation about how this beloved song entered the Haggadah. Its first appearance in a printed Haggadah was in 1590 in Prague. Some say that it was based on a familiar German nursery rhyme of the era. Others say that German nursery rhyme is based on Chad Gadya! 

Natan Alterman, one of the most prominent Modern Hebrew poets of the 20^th century, has his own theory about how this song entered our Haggadah. He wrote a charming poem about it, which I would like to share with you this evening.

He stood there in the market, among the she-goats and Billy goats /swinging its tail/as small as a pinkie/a kid from a poor home/a kid for two zuzim/without adornment/without bell or ribbon.

No one paid him attention, so no one knew/not the goldsmiths not the wool combers/that this kid/will enter the Haggadah/and become the hero of a song.

The poem begins with a scene in a marketplace. A plain baby goat, unadorned, unnoticed and unremarkable is for sale. The kid, however, is destined to be famous.

But father approached, his face glowing/and bought the kid/and caressed its forehead/this was the start of one of the songs/that will be sung forever.

The kid licked Father’s hand with its tongue/and touched it with his wet nose/this, my brother, was the first rhyme/of the verse “dezabin aba”.

The father of the narrator approaches the kid. There is an immediate bonding. The father strokes the kid. The kid licks the father and nuzzles up to him. The song has begun.

It was a spring day and the wind was dancing/Girls were laughing with winking eyes/And Father and the kid entered the Haggadah/ And both just stood there.

That very same Haggadah was already full/With wonders and great miracles/Therefore they stood on the last page/hugging and pressed to the wall

They enter the Haggadah, but there is already so much going on. Like a shy couple entering a room brimming with activity, the song does not know what to do. The simple song is intimidated by the majesty of the Haggadah. So the song waits quietly, taking comfort in itself, biding its time on the back page.

That very same Haggadah then silently said/Good, stand there kid and Father/In my pages walk smoke and blood/I am talking of greatness and secret things.

Yet I know that the sea will not part in vain/That there is a reason for splitting through walls and deserts/If at the end of the story/Stand a Father and kid/Waiting for their turn to shine.

The Haggadah, full of its own importance, takes notice of this simple song waiting at the back of the book. It then does something surprising. It acknowledges that it tells its story for the sake of this little song. The song may seem like an insignificant child’s ditty, but it is for its sake that the Haggadah tells the story of the Exodus.

I am sure each of us will have their own interpretation of this poem. To me, it means that as grand and epic the Passover story told in the Haggadah is, if it doesn’t move us, if we cannot relate to it, then it is merely a great story. All of the majestic symbols and concepts of the Passover seder are for naught if they do not reach down to the human level and touch our hearts.

Shabbat Shalom