SAFETY IN NUMBERS

Dvar Torah on Parashat  Bemidbar (5782/2022)

(Num 1:1 – 4:20)

Dvar Torah given at Temple Israel on Friday evening 5/27/22. That service also included a baby naming for a newborn in our congregation who was given the Hebrew name “Miriam.”

In our yearly Torah reading lectionary cycle this week we begin the fourth of the five books of the Torah, the book known in Hebrew as Sefer Bemidbar and known in English as “The Book of Numbers.”

As is the case with many of our holy books, the Hebrew title doesn’t correspond to the English title.  “Numbers” refers to the various Census counts that take place in the book.  “Bemidbar” is the first word in the two-word phrase “Bemidbar Sinai” meaning, “In the Wilderness of Sinai”.

That’s, of course, where our story takes place.  The miraculous escape from Egypt and arrival at Mt. Sinai are described in the first half of the Book of Exodus.  Then for the second half of the Book of Exodus and the entirety of the Book of Leviticus, we are still camped out at Mt. Sinai as God conveys many laws to Moses who conveys them to the people. 

But now, in the Book of Numbers, after a few introductory chapters of preparation, we set off “Bamidbar”/ “Into the Wilderness” slowly making our way to the Promised Land. 

We never quite get there – at least not in the five books of the Torah.  That settlement of the Land of Israel and the subsequent history of Ancient Israel is recounted in the remaining books of the Tanakh/The Hebrew Bible.

I guess Sefer Bemidbar has always been my favorite among the five books of the Torah because this theme of wilderness wandering is so resonant. 

All our lives, if you really think about it, are journeys.  Sometimes the journeys are filled with joy and abundance.  Sometimes they are filled with stress and sadness.  But our sense of unceasing connection with our loved ones, with our values, and with our faith is there to help keep us steady amidst the twists and turns of life. 

This past week has certainly been one of those stressful times, with the horrific news of the mass shooting in Uvalde, Texas.   Stressful, not only because of the tragedy itself, but also because of our frustration at the inability of our leaders and representatives to pass rational gun safety legislation.  I know that a massive protest took place today outside the previously scheduled National Rifle Association convention in Houston. And David Hogg, a survivor of the Parkland, Florida mass shooting when he was a high school student, is now organizing further actions to advocate for laws requiring universal background checks and other sensible laws and policies. Particular outreach is being done at the moment to encourage gun owners who understand the need for better gun control policies to get involved in a bipartisan manner.  If you look up the hashtag #GunOwnersForSafety on Twitter or other social media you can find a lot more information.  And, as I understand, there will be a number of demonstrations and other actions all around the country in the coming days and weeks.  Hopefully, such actions will have greater success than those that took place after Columbine, after Sandy Hook, after Parkland, etc., etc., etc.

In such a world, it can be scary to raise children, or to bring new children into the world.  But we are a people wedded to the value of “Uvecharta Bachayim”/ “Choose Life.”[1]  And this is not by any means the first time in our history when life has seemed precarious.  Our Torah teaches that when Pharaoh decreed that all the newborn Israelite male children should be drowned in the Nile, and when the entire Israelite population was being crushed by the indignities of slavery --- that many families were considering not having children, were considering not bringing new lives into their dangerous world.

But, according to the midrash, they were dissuaded by one brave, forthright, hopeful, faith-filled, optimistic, visionary prophet.  That prophet was Miriam, the older sister of Moses. We read in Tractate Sotah in the Talmud that Miriam spoke up and convinced her parents, as well as many others among the Israelites, to keep hope for the future.  She convinced them that it was worthwhile to continue to bring new life into the world. 

And in this way, she single-handedly saved the Jewish people and ensured its continued existence. [2]

And from there Miriam went on in her prophetic career to fill the role of spirit-raiser-in-chief, leading with dance and music as the Israelites emerged in safety from the waters of the parted Sea of Reeds.[3]

Anyone blessed with the name “Miriam” carries that proud and life-affirming heritage within her throughout her days.

But getting back to this week’s Torah portion, it starts with God instructing Moses to take the first of several census counts of the Israelites. Why?  Doesn’t God already know how many Israelites there are?  Indeed, doesn’t an all-knowing God already know everything there is to know about us? 

Rashi, commenting on the opening verses of our Torah portion explains:

מִתּוֹךְ חִבָּתָן לְפָנָיו מוֹנֶה אוֹתָם כָּל שָׁעָה

“Out of affection for them, God counts them all the time”[4]

A well-known midrash elaborates on this idea.  As we read In the Midrash collection Bemidbar Rabbah:

“This may be illustrated by a parable. A man possessed ….a stock of fine pearls which he would take up and count before taking [them] out [to market] and which he would count them again on putting [them] back in their place [when he came home]. So, as it were, said the Holy One, blessed be God: … ‘You [Israel] are my children … therefore I count you at frequent intervals.’

Rabbi Melissa Crespy comments on this midrash :

“God takes pleasure in the ‘children’ God brought into the world, and wants to make sure they are safe and sound, and so God counts them at frequent intervals, taking delight and comfort in seeing them and knowing that they are all safely there.”[5]

And so it’s true with us as well ---

All of us, to use a Yiddish expression, “shep naches” – or, loosely translated – all of us take joy and satisfaction in the arrival into the world of children who will be loved and nurtured and who can rely on the support and encouragement not only of their parents but also of the entire community which treasures them as well.

We hope and pray and strive to create and maintain such community – in our congregation, and in the wider society in which we live.

But, in the meantime, we cherish the moment and look to the future with hope, commitment and faith.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (May 2022/ Iyar 5782)

[1] See Deuteronomy 30:19

[2] Sotah 12a

[3] Exodus 15:20-21

[4] Rashi on Numbers 1:1

[5] https://www.jtsa.edu/torah/counting-pearls/

A MITZVAH OF DISOBEDIENCE

Thoughts on Kedoshim (5782/2022)

(Lev. 19:1 – 20:27)

[Dvar Torah given on 4/29/22 — The Shabbat of Joey W.’s bar mitzvah]

Shabbat is always a special time for the Jewish people. It’s our most important holy day, more important than Yom Kippur, more important than Passover, more important than Chanukah.  The poet and philosopher Asher Ginsberg (aka “Achad Ha’am”), who lived from 1856 to 1927 famously put it:  "More than the Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews."

This sacred time from Friday evening to Saturday evening each week affords us an opportunity to step back from the rushed pace of weekday concerns, to reconnect with our loved ones, to remind ourselves of our blessings, and to commune with God.

Of course, as the Achad Ha’am quote suggests, our ability and commitment to fully immerse ourselves in the spirit of Shabbat is often far from 100%. But the more we put into that effort, the more we will get out of it.  The sweetness of our gathering together right now as a community is just a taste of what could be.

All Sabbaths are special but this one is especially special!  For this is the Shabbat when we welcome the fine young man sitting behind me into his status as a full member of the Jewish community.  That’s what Bar Mitzvah is all about.  Joey may not yet be old enough to drive, or to vote in American elections, but we now regard him as an adult in terms of his status in the Jewish community. 

What this means is that Joey (like any young person reaching the age of Bar or Bat Mitzvah) is entitled to have their thoughts, beliefs and opinions respected.  And, conversely, that they are responsible for their actions. 

This classic Jewish idea that age of 13 signals a change in status goes back almost two thousand years, to the Mishnah, where in the tractate “Pirke Avot” we learn בֶּן שְׁלשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה לַמִּצְוֹת age thirteen for mitzvot.   In other words, age 13 for being responsible for one’s own sense of right and wrong. 

Parents teach and compel a child’s behavior but, like it or not, the teen years bring on a transformation. 

And, would you believe it – science apparently bears this out!

Literally, just yesterday, scientists from Stanford University published a study in the Journal of Neurosciece with the fancy title:  “A neurodevelopmental shift in reward circuitry from mother’s to nonfamilial voices in adolescence”. [1]

From what I gather from the news coverage around this new study, it seems that from infancy to around age 13, a child’s brainwaves instinctively react to the voice of one’s mother.  But from age 13 on --- the voices of others have a stronger effect.  Here’s how all this is described in an article released today on the website of the British newspaper the “Daily Mail” :

“The study by the Stanford School of Medicine used functional MRI brain scans to give the first detailed neurobiological explanation for how teenagers begin to separate from their parents.

It suggests that when your teenagers don't seem to hear you, it's not simply that they don't want to clean their room or finish their homework — their brains aren't registering your voice the way they did in pre-teenage years.

'Just as an infant knows to tune into her mother's voice, an adolescent knows to tune into novel voices,' said lead study author Daniel Abrams, clinical associate professor of psychiatry and behavioural sciences.

'As a teen, you don't know you're doing this. You're just being you: You've got your friends and new companions and you want to spend time with them.

'Your mind is increasingly sensitive to and attracted to these unfamiliar voices.'

In some ways, teenagers' brains are more receptive to all voices — including their mothers' — than the brains of children under 12, the researchers discovered, a finding that lines up with teenagers' increased interest in many types of social signals.

But in teenage brains, the reward circuits and the brain centres that prioritise important stimuli are more activated by unfamiliar voices than by those of their mothers.

The brain's shift toward new voices is an aspect of healthy maturation, the researchers said.

'A child becomes independent at some point, and that has to be precipitated by an underlying biological signal,' said the study's senior author Vinod Menon, a professor of psychiatry and behavioural sciences.

'That's what we've uncovered: This is a signal that helps teens engage with the world and form connections which allow them to be socially adept outside their families.'[2]

-----

None of this, not the mishnah’s teaching about בֶּן שְׁלשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה לַמִּצְוֹת nor the new Stanford University study about changes in brain wave patterns at age 13 – none of this means that a teenager should stop respecting their parents.  Most of us are familiar with the fourth of the 10 Commandments that we find back in Exodus 20:12 ---

כַּבֵּ֥ד אֶת־אָבִ֖יךָ וְאֶת־אִמֶּ֑ךָ

Honor your father and your mother…

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Kedoshim, at Leviticus 19:3, that idea is reiterated in slightly different language: 

אִ֣ישׁ אִמּ֤וֹ וְאָבִיו֙ תִּירָ֔אוּ

You shall each revere your mother and your father,

Notice that the order of the parents is flipped  -- In the Exodus quote father comes first, while in the Leviticus quote mother comes first.

One commentary that I read about this suggests that both versions appear in the Torah in order to show that a person should respect their parents equally.   

(And I’d argue that we can also apply this idea to families with two Dads or two Moms --- whatever your family structure is – if you are in a two-parent household you should respect each of your parents equally).

But what I find really fascinating, especially in the context of Joey’s Bar Mitzvah this Shabbat, is the second half of that verse from this week’s parasha, Leviticus 19:3:

As I mentioned a moment ago – the verse begins with the words

אִ֣ישׁ אִמּ֤וֹ וְאָבִיו֙ תִּירָ֔אוּ

You shall each revere your mother and your father,

BUT THE FULL VERSE READS AS FOLLOWS:

אִ֣ישׁ אִמּ֤וֹ וְאָבִיו֙ תִּירָ֔אוּ

ואֶת־שַׁבְּתֹתַ֖י תִּשְׁמֹ֑רוּ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃

You shall each revere your mother and your father, and keep My sabbaths: I יהוה am your God.

We might well ask --- what does revering your mother and father have to do with the commandment of keeping the Sabbath, and why does the verse end with the reminder “I am Adonai your God”

Here’s what the medieval commentator Rashi, citing a teaching in the Talmud, says about that:

סָמַךְ שַׁבָּת לְמוֹרָא אָב, לוֹמַר אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁהִזְהַרְתִּיךָ עַל מוֹרָא אָב, אִם יֹאמַר לְךָ חַלֵּל אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת, אַל תִּשְׁמַע לוֹ, וְכֵן בִּשְׁאָר כָּל הַמִּצְווֹת (בבא מציעא ל"ב):

Scripture places the commandment of observing the Sabbath immediately after that of revering one’s parent in order to suggest the following: “Although I [the Eternal] admonish you regarding the reverence due to your parent, yet if [your parent] bids you: "Desecrate the Sabbath", do not listen to [your parent]”— and the same is the case with any of the other commandments.

(So says Rashi commenting on Leviticus 19:3 and citing Bava Metzia 32a of the Talmud)

Okay, far be it from me to suggest that Gerry or Devyn would ever order Joey to commit a sin. 

But I think the teaching here can be expressed in a more general manner --- That’s the idea that once you reach your teenage years,

once someone like Joey reaches the age of Bar Mitzvah,

once any of us starts to transition into being a grown up ---

Once that happens -- we are called upon to continue to respect our elders and look to them for guidance but we also are now called upon to exercise independent judgment and follow our consciences. 

That’s what it means to be a Jewish adult.

Another one of my favorite Jewish teachings is where it says, also in Pirke Avot:

אֵיזֶהוּ חָכָם, הַלּוֹמֵד מִכָּל אָדָם

Who is wise?  The one who learns from every person.[3]

Joey has a lifetime ahead of him. 

And for Joey, as for the rest of us, there always remains so much to learn. But if we want to attain wisdom, we should also strive to learn from every person.

I know I speak not just for myself, but for all of us gathered here, when I say that we all look forward to learning from Joey, both tomorrow morning when he will share his dvar torah with us, as well as in the days and years to come. 

Shabbat shalom.

(c) Rabbi David Steinberg

April 2022/ Nisan 5782

[1] https://www.jneurosci.org/content/early/2022/04/06/JNEUROSCI.2018-21.2022

[2] https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-10763435/Teenagers-brains-start-tuning-mothers-voice-age-13-study-finds.html

[3] Pirke Avot 4:1

LAND OF MY GRANDFATHERS

Dvar Torah for Parashat Vayakhel/ Shabbat Shekalim given on Friday evening 2/25/2022 

(Exodus 35:1 – 38:20)

As we gather together this evening to welcome the peacefulness of Shabbat, we remain poignantly aware of the lack of peace in Ukraine.  I have been obsessively following the news coverage in recent days as I’m sure is true for many of you as well. 

These horrifying developments strike a particular chord for many of us. 

The Jewish people is a multi-ethnic, multi-racial people.  And it is right and good and admirable that the diversity of our people has gained greater emphasis of late.  However, it also continues to be true that a sizable majority of the Jewish population of the United States is ethnically Ashkenazi[1], and within this Ashkenazi population, a sizable number of us trace family roots to Ukraine.

For me personally, my grandfather on my mother’s side, Harry Gray (born Aron Grabelsky) was born and raised in the town of Zhmerynka, Ukraine.  And my other grandfather, Boris Steinberg, was born and raised in Odessa – one of the cities that has been under attack by Russian forces in the past couple of days.

And whether or not any of us personally has family roots in Ukraine, we all get a shiver down our spines as we witness the worst aggression of one sovereign European nation against another sovereign European nation since World War II.  Only this time, democracy loving nations hesitate to battle the aggressor with full force because the aggressor has a vast stockpile of nuclear weapons.

Russian President Putin explicitly referenced that fact in remarks he made yesterday just before giving the go-ahead signal to start the invasion of Ukraine – even as the nations of the United Nations Security Council were in session trying to avoid the onset of hostilities. 

That would appear to explain why the United States and its allies have announced that they would not send troops into Ukraine to fight the Russian invaders.  All of this is leaving Ukraine to fight for its life at this very moment.

I’ve been incredibly inspired by the bravery and heroism of President Zelensky of Ukraine and by the people of that country.  As many of you already know, Zelensky himself is Jewish – and not only that, but he lost family members in the Holocaust.  He has been showing great leadership both in the days leading up to Russia’s invasion and now in the face of that ongoing aggression.

While these events play out, we can pray for the safety of President Zelensky and all of the inhabitants of Ukraine.  We can also donate to charitable organizations active on the scene.  For example, the World Union for Progressive Judaism, of which both the Reform and Reconstructionist movements are constituent members, has started a Ukraine Crisis Find.  You can visit www.wupj.org for more information and to donate.

Well, my basic task when talking from the bima on Friday nights is to share some insight about the weekly Torah portion.  In studying this week’s portion, Parashat Vayakhel, there were a few aspects that resonated for me in connection with the crisis in Ukraine.

I’ll just share two such ideas.

First off, this Torah portion --- like several other Torah portions in the second half of the book of Exodus, talks about the construction of the Mishkan, that tabernacle in the wilderness that was to make palpable God’s presence in the midst of the community.  In speaking of the tabernacle – and also in speaking of the menorah that was to have an important place within it, we read of many component parts which are fashioned out of a single block of gold (in the case of the menorah)[2] or which are joined into a single structure (in the case of the tent of meeting).[3] 

This integration of discrete elements into a single unified whole has been compared to the character of the Jewish people – we are diverse, but we are One.  That is true, at least ideally, of countries as well.  The motto of the United States, after all, is E pluribus Unum – Out of the Many, One.

And we see it today in Ukraine as well, where the people are united in defense of their land and in defense of its right be free and independent.  Our hearts and our thoughts and our prayers are with them at this perilous time.

The second thought that comes to mind for me in thinking about Parashat Vayakhel is the idea of how the Mishkan and all of its components and furnishings were designed to be portable.  Amidst all the dry details of our parasha, on several occasions we have mention of the poles which were used to carry the various items from place to place.[4]  Indeed, earlier in the Book of Exodus we learned that such poles were to be permanently in place on that holiest of holy objects, the ark of the covenant.[5]

Torah speaks of our ancestors wandering from place to place over forty years in their journey from bondage in Egypt to settlement in the Promised Land.

And, as we well know, our people would be involved in many more episodes of wandering over the centuries that followed. 

And now, today, many Ukrainians are on the move --- doing their best to move towards safer locations.  Among them are the members of the main synagogue in Odessa, my Grandfather Boris Steinberg’s native city. 

On Twitter today I saw a video of the Gabbai of that synagogue reporting emotionally about how the synagogue had been evacuated and how we should all pray for the safety of its people and for their ability to return in peace.[6] 

He seemed at the verge of tears in that video.  But, even amidst all this, he concluded by wishing everyone a Gut Shabbes.

– and now I wish the same for all of us.

Gut Shabbes. 

May it be a Shabbat of peace and safety for all.

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

February 2022/ Adar I 5782

[1] https://www.pewforum.org/2021/05/11/race-ethnicity-heritage-and-immigration-among-u-s-jews/

[2] See Exodus 37:17-22

[3] See Exodus 36: 8-13

[4] See Exodus 37:4, 37:15,37: 27-28, 38: 6-7

[5] See Exodus 25:15

[6] https://twitter.com/Yair_Rosenberg/status/1497214891031240707

FIRST THINGS FIRST?

Thoughts on Parashat Terumah (5780/2020)

(Exodus 25:1 – 27:19)

[Note:  I gave this dvar torah two years ago, when this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Terumah, came around.  As can be seen, these were the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic.  It feels so weird to re-read this two years later when so much has changed but so much yet remains to be done.] 

This week’s torah portion, Terumah, is the first of several that present the detailed instructions for building and equipping the Mishkan.   The word “mishkan” (from the same root as Shechinah) means “dwelling place.”   

The Torah is speaking here of a portable sanctuary that the Israelites were commanded to transport with them during the decades of wandering in the wilderness. Tradition sees the mishkan as the precursor of the Temple that would be built centuries later in Jerusalem under the reign of King Solomon.  In this way it is also a precursor of the Temples of our day – including this building in which we are gathered right now. 

On a surface level, this may seem like really dry stuff.  Just a slew of intricate details about the building process of this structure and of its furnishings:  This week’s Torah portion Terumah (and continuing in next week’s Torah portion Tetzaveh) sets forth God’s instructions to Moses.  Later in the book of Exodus, in Parashat Vayakhel, Moses painstakingly repeats those instructions to the people.  And after that, all of these minute details get repeated yet again as the text recounts the actual carrying out of these instructions by the people. 

When we read all the details about the making of the ark, and of the fashioning of the ark cover, with the figures of cherubim hammered out atop it from a single piece of gold. And when we read about the golden menorah with its component sections that evoke the symbolism of trees and flowers.   And the fancy bowls, ladels, jars and jugs; and the table for the shew bread, and so on and so on…

It’s easy to get bogged down in the material descriptions and lose sight of the spiritual purpose. 

But the Torah reminds us that holiness is not about material goods, it’s about human connections. 

In what is probably the most well-known verse of our parasha, Exodus 25:8, God declares:

       וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ; וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם

("v'asu li mikdash v'shachanti betocham")

“They shall make for me a sanctuary and I shall dwell within them.” 

Not, as we might expect – ”btocho”/ within it (i.e. within the fancy sanctuary with its fancy accoutrements), but rather “btocham” -- within or among them.  The actions of the people in building the mishkan and fabricating its contents bring them together in holy community.  Although God is everywhere, the community building project helps the people to be better able to experience God’s presence.

Bottom line:   It’s nice to have an aesthetically beautiful building, but what it’s really all about is having a setting in which we can experience God’s presence through our interactions with one another.

And yet, even as we gather here tonight, trying to experience that sense of God’s presence by virtue if being together in the same space at the same time – we are conscious of the fact that in China, Japan and elsewhere gatherings are being cancelled, and thousands of individuals are being quarantined.  All because of a pandemic disease -- COVID-19  --- the new corona virus that emerged in Wuhan, China, and which is rapidly spreading around the world. 

The New York Times reports that as of today, the coronavirus outbreak has sickened more than 83,800 people, according to official counts and that at least 2,866 people have died, all but 78 in mainland China.

And we are told that the situation may get significantly worse in the coming weeks in places like the United States that have so far been largely spared. As Dr. Nancy Messonier, director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases said in a news briefing earlier this week: 

“It’s not so much of a question of if this will happen anymore but rather more of a question of exactly when this will happen.” According to the New York Times, Dr. Messonier further stated that “cities and towns should plan for ‘social distancing measures,’ like dividing school classes into smaller groups of students or closing schools altogether. Meetings and conferences may have to be canceled, and businesses should arrange for employees to work from home.”   That quote doesn’t mention cancelling religious services, but one could easily imagine this if the situation were to become extreme in Duluth.

However, so far, it’s best just not to panic but just to be vigilant.  As one apt meme making the rounds on the internet advises: “Keep Calm and Wash Your Hands.”   

Morbidity rates from COVID-19 are quite low, and, so far, anyway, most people who do catch the disease have mild symptoms and recover fully in a couple of weeks. 

And on an especially optimistic note, news out of Israel is that scientists there claim to be only weeks away from developing a vaccine.[1] 

Of course, I am no public health specialist.  I just want to emphasize the message of being conscientious and not panicking.

And, indeed, a key debate among the traditional commentators on this week’s Torah portion reinforces that message. 

How so?

Well, that debate involves the question of chronology in the Torah.  Some commentators, like Nachmanides, say that in general we should assume that Torah stories took place in the order in which they are set forth.  But others, like Rashi emphasize the idea that : אין מוקדם ומאוחר בתורה  / “eyn mukdam u’me’uchar batorah” / “there is no before or after in the Torah.” --- that the text is not necessarily set out in chronological order. 

What does that have to do with Parashat Terumah or with the new Corona virus?:

As I mentioned above, this week’s Torah portion Terumah (and continuing in next week’s Torah portion Tetzaveh) sets forth God’s instructions to Moses on building the mishkan or tabernacle.

Later in the book of Exodus, in Parashat Vayakhel, Moses conveys those instructions to the people and the people carry them out as they build the mishkan. 

But in between God’s instructions to Moses in Exodus chapter 25 and Moses’s instructions to the people in Exodus chapters 35 – some dramatic stuff happens!

Most prominently, the incident of the Golden Calf when the people rebel against God by building a Golden calf as an idol  --- which enrages God and leads to a deadly plague.

Only after all of that takes place, does the Torah continue the story of the Mishkan with Moses relaying the directions to the people that God had given to him.

Rashi, echoing many of the classic rabbinic midrashim that preceded him, argues that this week’s Torah portion is inserted into the Torah out of chronological order.  That God’s instructions to Moses to build the mishkan chronologically came after the incident of the Golden Calf.  That the Mishkan project was a project through which the people could be healed after the trauma of the Golden Calf and the plague that had ensued in its aftermath.

In the words of the rabbinic midrash Tanchuma –

אָמַר הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא: יָבֹא זָהָב שֶׁבַּמִּשְׁכָּן וִיכַפֵּר עַל זָהָב שֶׁנַּעֲשָׂה בּוֹ אֶת הָעֵגֶל,

The Holy Blessed One said: “Let the gold used for the Mishkan atone for the gold that was used in making the calf,” (Tanchuma, Terumah 8)

And why was this placed out of chronological order?  Because, as we learn in Tractate Megillah of the Talmud,

דאמר ר"ל אין הקב"ה מכה את ישראל אא"כ בורא להם רפואה תחילה

Reish Lakish said: The Holy Blessed One does not inflict the Jewish people until having first created their cure. (Megillah 13b)

In other words, before describing the sickness resulting from the Golden Calf incident we needed to be encouraged in our faith by first hearing about the Mishkan project that would symbolize healing and the continued divine presence in our midst.

And so, taking these teachings to heart, as we “Keep Calm and Carry On,” and as we wash our hands, and sneeze into our elbows, and, if necessary, stay home if we are sick, and do whatever needs to be done until this current pandemic has abated ----

Let’s also keep the faith that God doesn’t create the sickness without first creating the cure --- or, to put it more naturalistically – before first creating a world in which doctors, scientists and others will have the ability to do God’s work by finding that cure.

I’ll close with words composed by my colleague Rabbi Leila Gal Berner that can be found in the Kol Haneshama siddur that we use here at Temple Israel on Shabbat mornings:

May the One who blesses all Life, bless and heal

these people who struggle against illness.

May those afflicted with disease be blessed with

faith, courage, loving and caring.  May they know

much support and sustenance from their friends,

their loving companions and their communities.

May they be granted a full and

complete healing of body and soul.

May those who seek ways of healing through

increased medical knowledge and those who care for

the sick daily be blessed with courage,

stamina and communal support.

May all, the sick and the well together be granted

Courage and hope.  And let us say: Amen.[2]

Shabbat shalom.

 (c) Rabbi David Steinberg (2020, edited for publication 2022)

[1] https://www.newsweek.com/coronavirus-vaccine-weeks-away-being-developed-says-head-israeli-science-research-institute-1489694

 [2] Kol Haneshama: Shabbat Vehagim (Reconstructionist Press, 1994), p. 686

FRIENDS AND FOES

Thoughts on Parashat Yitro

(Exodus 18:1 – 20:23)

(Dvar Torah given on Friday, 1/21/2022)

This week’s Torah portion, Yitro, is named after the father-in-law of Moses.  (The English equivalent is “Jethro”).  The name “yitro” is related to the Hebrew word “yeter”  --- meaning “excess” or “surplus” or “addition.”  The traditional commentators say that this refers to the fact that Yitro’s advice to Moses was “added” to the Torah. 

Specifically, what we read in Exodus, Chapter 18 is that Moses has been working himself to death judging every little legal dispute posed brought to him by the Israelites.  Jethro advises Moses to find capable communal leaders to handle the smaller matters, freeing Moses up for the hard cases.   Thus, Moses would be able to keep from burning out.

Good advice to be sure, and as we read on in the Torah portion, we’re relieved to learn that Moses has accepted that good advice.  As it says in Exodus 18: 24-27 –

24 Moses heeded his father-in-law and did just as he had said. 25 Moses chose capable individuals out of all Israel, and appointed them heads over the people — chiefs of thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens; 26 and they judged the people at all times: the difficult matters they would bring to Moses, and all the minor matters they would decide themselves. 27 Then Moses bade his father-in-law farewell, and he went his way to his own land.

That’s all well and good.

But where does the idea come from that this scene was “added” to the Torah?  That comes from the view of various commentators that this chapter is out of chronological order.  For how could Moses be judging legal disputes, and how could Jethro be advising Moses on how to delegate minor legal questions to other communal leaders, when the relevant laws were not yet given?  All of this is going on in Exodus chapter 18, but the 10 Commandments are not given until Exodus chapter 20, and the various other “mishpatim” or “statutes” are not given until we get to next week’s Torah portion, aptly named Parashat Mishpatim.

And, again, we can ask, why would the Torah go out of its way to insert this story of Jethro out of chronological order? 

I love the answer given by the 12th century bible commentator Ibn Ezra.

Ibn Ezra comments that the story is inserted here, at the very beginning of this week’s Torah portion, in order to form a contrast with the story that appeared at the very end of last week’s Torah portion. 

And what was that story at the very end of last week’s Torah portion.  It’s the account of the war against Amalek, concerning whom the very last words of last week’s Torah portion, Parashat Beshallach, are these words in Exodus 17:16 ---

 מִלְחָמָ֥ה לַה' בַּֽעֲמָלֵ֑ק מִדֹּ֖ר דֹּֽר׃

 “Adonai will be at war with Amalek throughout the ages”

 Do you recall who Amalek is?

 Amalek is a non-Israelite who tries to kill all the Israelites, beginning with those who are weakest and least capable of fighting back (see Exodus 17: 8-16 and Deuteronomy 25: 17-19).

 Jethro is also a non-Israelite!  But he comes as a friend and supporter – indeed he comes as family. 

 And so, in the words of Ibn Ezra:   

 למה נכנסה פרשת יתרו במקום הזה.

“Why was Parshat Yitro inserted in this place?

בעבור שהזכיר למעלה הרעה שעשה עמלק לישראל

הזכיר כנגדו הטובה שעשה יתרו לישראל

 Since [the Torah] recounted above the evil that Amalek did to Israel, here it contrasts to that the good that Jethro did to Israel.”[i]

This reminds us that we should never make false generalizations about others. 

There remain plenty of Amaleks in the world, and we must be on guard against them.  But there are also plenty of Jethros in the world --- and we must remain open and welcoming and appreciative of their sincere good will and helpful intentions. 

Last Saturday afternoon and evening many of us were anxiously following the hostage crisis at Congregation Beth Israel in Colleyville, Texas.  A terrorist --- following in the footsteps of Amalek  --- threatened to kill the hostages in the synagogue.

He was Muslim. 

But, at the same time, the Jews of that congregation, as well as Jews around the world including here in Duluth, received the embracing support of other Muslims, who were following in the footsteps of Jethro. 

It’s so important that we acknowledge that the evil deeds of one person are not reflective of the nature of an entire group.

Let me share with you the message of support I received early this week from Nik Hassan of the Islamic Center of the Twin Ports, and my response to him:

And, actually, Nik wrote to both me and to Temple Israel member Elyse Carter Vosen, who has been very active in promoting our interfaith connections with our local Muslim community:

Nik wrote:

Dear Rabbi David and Elyse,

The Muslim community here watched with horror at what happened to the Congregation Beth Israel synagogue in Colleyville, Texas. We are glad that no one was hurt other than the perpetrator of that terrorist act, committed during Sabbath services, of all times. It is extremely sad to know that a Muslim was involved, even though he did not represent in any way the teachings he may claim to hold. It becomes even more urgent for all of us to continue our efforts within our own communities to highlight the sanctity of our worship places and our lives.

Sincerely

On behalf of the ICTP Board and members

Duluth, MN

 I was very touched by this message and so this is what I wrote him back (cc’ing Elyse):

 Thank you, Nik.  Your kind words mean so much to me.  Of course, you didn't have to even say this for me to already know that you and the members of the Islamic Center of the Twin Ports already felt this way.  I feel very blessed to be living in a place where our local Jewish and Muslim communities are so supportive of one another.

L'shalom,

David

 And Elyse in turn sent this response to Nik and me:

 Dear Nik, 

 Rabbi David expressed my thoughts and feelings so well. I agree wholeheartedly with all he said. I'm so grateful for the trusting and caring relationships between our communities, and that we can continue to work together for peace. Please share our gratitude and caring with the ICTP board and membership. 

With great gratitude and respect, 

Elyse

----------------------

In the wake of horrific incidents like what occurred in Texas last Shabbat, it’s important that we continue to remain openhearted, loving our neighbor, seeking peace where there is strife, and reflecting God’s love in all the ways we interact with others.

To be sure, we need to worry about security.  We need to be mindful of the dangers that are out there.  As you may already know, this week also marked the 80th anniversary of the Wansee Conference at which the Nazis bureaucratically codified their plans for the extermination of the Jews of Europe.

We need to be compassionate and understanding to ourselves in the wake of trauma, both the traumatic after effect of recent events, as well as in light of the intergenerational trauma that each of us, to a greater or lesser extent, lives with every day. 

But, ultimately, we must not live in fear.

As that classic hymn Adon Olam reminds us in its closing words:

Adonai li velo ira:  (“The Eternal is with Me, I shall not fear.”)

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg

January 2022/ Shevat 5782

[i] Ibn Ezra on Ex. 18:1

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Thoughts on Parashat Va’era

(Exodus 6:2 – 9:35)

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Va’era, includes the account of the first seven of the ten plagues that God inflicts upon the Egyptians before Pharaoh is willing to let the Israelites go forth from slavery to freedom.  But before we get to those plagues, the parasha starts out with an ambiguous side discussion about God’s name. 

 In the first two verses of Parashat Va’era, three different names for God are mentioned:

וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה וַיֹּ֥אמֶר אֵלָ֖יו אֲנִ֥י יְ-הֹ-וָֽ-ה׃

וָאֵרָ֗א אֶל־אַבְרָהָ֛ם אֶל־יִצְחָ֥ק וְאֶֽל־יַעֲקֹ֖ב בְּאֵ֣ל שַׁדָּ֑י וּשְׁמִ֣י יְ-הֹ-וָֽ-ה לֹ֥א נוֹדַ֖עְתִּי לָהֶֽם׃

Elohim spoke to Moses and said to him, “I am Adonai

I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself known to them by My name Adonai.[1]

That first name mentioned in these opening verses, “Elohim” is usually translated as “God.”  We can combine it with possessive suffixes to get forms like “Eloheinu” (“Our God”) or “Elohai” (“My God”) or “Elohekha” (“Your God”).  It can be thought of as a generic term for divinity. 

The second name mentioned, Adonai, often translated as Lord or the Eternal, is seen as a more specific, or “personal” (so to speak) name for God. 

Rabbinic tradition also sees the term “Adonai” as a reference to God’s attribute of merciful compassion contrasting with “Elohim” --- which is thought to refer to God’s attribute of strict justice. 

Jewish tradition generally points toward a divine unity, encompassing, as it were, the best of both worlds.

And so the traditional blessing formula employs both names:

Barukh atah ADONAI, ELOHEINU melekh ha’olam.

Blessed are you ADONAI (merciful aspect of divinity), ELOHEINU (justice seeking aspect of divinity), who rules the world. 

And so we declare in the Shema: 

Shema Yisrael, ADONAI, ELOHEINU, ADONAI ECHAD.

Hear O Israel,  ADONAI (the God of Compassion) , is ELOHEINU (our God of Justice)  ---  and these seemingly distinct aspects of divinity are “Echad” (integrated and singular).

And we, in turn, so it would seem, are called upon in all our actions in life, to find that proper balance between justice and compassion. 

That third name mentioned in the opening of our parasha “El Shaddai” consists of two parts:  “El”, which is a shorthand variant form of “Elohim” (“God”) and “Shaddai”.  We don’t really know for sure what “Shaddai” is supposed to mean -- this name that was known to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  Some say “Shaddai” is related to a word meaning “breasts” --- invoking God as the source of fertility and sustenance.  In stark contrast, some say “Shaddai” is related to a word meaning “destroyer.” Others say it’s related to a word meaning “mountain.”

But the most evocative explanation in my humble opinion, is the classic explanation that Shaddai is a word formed from the combination of the prefix “Sheh” (meaning which or that) and the word “Dai” (meaning “enough”) So El Shaddai, in this interpretation, means “God” who is “Enough” or “God” who is “sufficient.”

The first generations of our people, whom we read about in the Book of Genesis, according to this view, didn’t need God to produce any miraculous signs and wonders.  They had simply come to a profound belief in the existence of God and that was “Dai” – that was “Enough.”

Moses’ generation, on the other hand, needed to see the proverbial hand of God actively working in history – producing signs and wonders like the plagues of the Passover story, and freeing our people from centuries of bondage.  In the Book of Exodus, the times called for a more active role for God in history. [2]

But we are 21st century folks.  Most of us don’t expect God to change the physical laws of nature – even if we might still believe in a creator God who established all those laws of nature in the first place.  And even back in the Talmud, we have a classic teaching that could have been composed by contemporary scientists: עולם כמנהגו נוהג (“olam keminhago noheg”/ “the world follows its accustomed course”)[3]

In other words, there are rational explanations for all the phenomenon we encounter. 

But if that’s the case, then what does it mean for God to act in the world? 

At the heart of it is the idea that God, as it were, acts through us.   

That God is found in our relationships with others, in our reaching out to others. 

One corollary of this idea is that each of us affects the world around us.  Each of us has power and influence – and responsibility.  Each of us needs to take care in the words we speak and in the actions we undertake. 

It might seem sacrilegious to say that each of us is a God.

But, look at our Torah portion! That’s exactly what it says about Moses in this jarring statement in Exodus 7:1 -- 

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְ-הֹ-ו-ָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה רְאֵ֛ה נְתַתִּ֥יךָ אֱלֹהִ֖ים לְפַרְעֹ֑ה [...]

 “Adonai said to Moses, “See, I place you in the role of God to Pharaoh[…]  

I don’t think that the Torah is actually claiming that Moses is a God, any more than any of us are Gods. 

But what I do take from this verse is the idea that we should never underestimate the effects of our words and our actions on the world around us. 

Whatever we do each day, including in each day of the new secular year that is upon us, has meaning, even if we don’t always see it. 

We should take ourselves seriously, for the way God acts in the world is by acting through each of us.

This is a tremendous responsibility --- but also a tremendous gift and a tremendous blessing.   May we be up to the task.  May we be worthy of the blessing. 

Shabbat shalom.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (New Year’s Eve 2021/2022; Tevet 5782)

[1] Exodus 6: 2-3

[2] See Yeshayahu Leibowitz [1903-1994], Accepting the Yoke of Heaven: Commentary on the Weekly Torah Portion (Urim Publications, 2002), p. 62. 

[3] Avodah Zarah 54b (and elsewhere).

HEAVEN AND EARTH; LIFE AND DEATH

Dvar Torah for Parashat Chayei Sarah 10/29/21 (24 Cheshvan 5782) 

[Genesis 23:1 – 25:18] 

This week’s Torah portion is “Chayei Sarah” which means “The Life of Sarah.”  Despite that title, Genesis ch. 23 is actually about the death of Sarah, and about Abraham’s acquisition of a burial place for her in Hebron at the Cave of Machpela.  To this day, that site, in the heart of what is now the Israeli-occupied West Bank, is a major holy pilgrimage site for Jews and Muslims alike.  Our tradition teaches that not only is Sarah buried there, but Abraham, Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob and Leah as well.   

The Cave of Machpela is referenced again near the end of the parasha, when the Torah reports at Genesis 25: 8-10: 

וַיִּגְוַ֨ע וַיָּ֧מׇת אַבְרָהָ֛ם בְּשֵׂיבָ֥ה טוֹבָ֖ה זָקֵ֣ן וְשָׂבֵ֑עַ וַיֵּאָ֖סֶף אֶל־עַמָּֽיו׃ 

Abraham breathed his last, dying at a good ripe age, old and contented; and he was gathered to his kin. 

And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, facing Mamre, the field that Abraham had bought from the Hittites; there Abraham was buried, and Sarah his wife. 

What does it mean that Abraham was “zaken ve-saveya” (“old and contented”)? 

Abraham is the first person in the Torah to be described as “zaken”/ “old” and there’s a nice midrash that says that the word “zaken” is shorthand for “zeh kanah chochmah” (“this one has acquired wisdom.”).  I don’t know about you, but I can certainly attest that as I have grown older, and acquired more life experience, I feel like I’ve acquired more wisdom – or at least more of a capacity to “not sweat the small stuff.”  A lesson for us all to be sure. 

And the Torah says that when Abraham reached the end of his life he was “saveya” (“contented”).  And here our commentators draw a connection to the next verse which reports that both of his sons --- Ishmael, the one whom he had chased away years earlier, and Isaac, the one whom had almost sacrificed at the Akedah, that Isaac and Ishmael had reconciled between themselves, as evidenced by their coming together to bury him.  Of course, Abraham was dead already, but various hints in the text have led commentators over the centuries to feel that this reconciliation was something about which Abraham was already aware. 

How many of us have estrangements in our lives? Or unresolved conflicts with those that have been close to us?  Abraham, the Torah tells us, lived to the age of 175.  But who knows how much time any of us have left?  Better sooner than later if we have reconciliation work to do with anyone in our lives. 

****************************************

Please excuse the possible morbidness of those sentiments – I’m so happy to be back in the sanctuary with you after missing a month of Shabbat services as I struggled with a breakthrough bout of Covid-19.  But I can’t deny that the experience has made me more conscious than ever of the fact that none of us live forever.  At the same time, I have felt an enhanced sense of gratitude for each new day.   

And I thank you for your understanding and indulgence as you can surely sense that my vocal stamina is still not totally back to normal yet. 

 ****************************************

I’ve talked already a little about incidents described near the beginning of this week’s Torah portion (in Genesis 23) and near its end (in Genesis 25) 

But the middle of the parasha, Genesis 24, actually takes up the biggest chunk of the narrative.  It’s the longest chapter in the book of Genesis – 67 verses in all.  It describes how Abraham sends his servant Eliezer back to his birthplace of Aram Naharayim to find a wife for his son Isaac.  

One detail that I was particularly struck by this week as I studied the parasha is how Abraham describes God in two different ways in two verses that are not that far apart from each other. In Genesis 24:3, as Abraham entrusts Eliezer with his task to find a wife for Isaac, Abraham asks Eliezer to take an oath in the name of “Adonai elohei hashamayim velohei ha’aretz” ("Adonai, God of Heaven and God of the Earth”). However, four verses later, when Abraham is reminiscing about his earlier experiences he speaks of “Adonai elohey hashamayim” – Adonai, God of Heaven --- who had taken him out of his father’s house and charged him with going forth to a new land that God would show him. 

Why, regarding that earlier time does Abraham refer only to “God of Heaven” rather than “God of Heaven AND God of Earth?”.  Wasn’t Adonai always God of both? 

Well, not exactly.   

As Rashi (commenting on Gen. 24:7) explains: 

Adonai, God of heavens, Who took me from my father’s house: But he did not say, “and the God of the earth,” whereas above (verse 3) he said, “And I will adjure you [by Adonai, God of heaven and God of the earth].”He said to him,“Now Adonai is the God of heaven and the God of the earth, because I have made Adonai familiar in the mouths of the people, but when Adonai took me from my father’s house, Adonai was the God of the Heavens but not the God of the earth, because humanity did not [yet] acknowledge Adonai, and Adonai’s name was not familiar on the earth.” 

In contemporary terms, what this means to me is that “God of Heaven” is an abstract, philosophical idea.  We might have beliefs and values and morals – but as long as they stay in the theoretical realm they are, in a sense, incomplete. But, for me anyway, the phrase “God of Heaven AND God of Earth” (Elohei hashamayim velohei ha’aretz) implies something more meaningful, instrumental and life changing. 

Bringing those ideas and those ideals – DOWN TO EARTH – is about walking the walk, about putting our ideals into practice.  

Maybe this means means working for social justice causes.  

Maybe this means being present and connected with the real, flesh and blood people in our lives.  

Maybe that’s what it means when we sing at the end of the Aleinu ---  

Ki Adonai, Hu ha-Elohim, bashamayim mi-ma'al, 
ve'al ha'aretz mi-tachat. Ein od. 
Kakatuv be'toratecha: "Adonai yimloch le'olam va'ed." 
Ve'ne'emar: "Ve'haya Ado​nai le'melech al kol ha'aretz, 
bayom hahu yihiyeh Adonai echad, u'shemo echad." 

For Adonai is God in the Heavens above and on the Earth below.  There is none else.  As it is written in Your Torah: 
"Adonai will reign forever and ever." 
And it is said: "Adonai will be Ruler over the 
whole Earth, and on that day, 
God will be One, and God's name will be One. 

Shabbat shalom. 

Rabbi David Steinberg

(c) October 2021/ Cheshvan 5782

DIVINE SHADE

Sermon for Yom Kippur morning 5782

September 16, 2021

Here we are at the last of my four High Holiday sermons on the four chapters of the Book of Jonah.  Jonah Chapter 3, which we focused on last night, was when Jonah ventured off to Nineveh (like he was originally supposed to do before he ran off to sea in chapter 1 and before he was swallowed by a big fish in Chapter 2.)

But in chapter 3, he does what God tells him to do, albeit still less than enthusiastically.  He wanders through only a part of the city of Nineveh and utters just five Hebrew words to its inhabitants. 

ע֚וֹד אַרְבָּעִ֣ים י֔וֹם וְנִֽינְוֵ֖ה נֶהְפָּֽכֶת׃

(Od arba’im yom ve-Nineveh nehpahkhet)

Meaning ---

“Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overturned”

But that’s enough to do the trick and all is well by the end of chapter 3.

You’d think Jonah would be happy about having made such a positive impact on so many people.

But no – Jonah is annoyed.

Back in Chapter 1, when Jonah ran away from his assigned prophetic role, it was never explicitly explained why he was doing so.  It’s only now in Chapter 4 that he finds his words to express what’s really ticking him off:

As we read in Jonah 4: 2-3:

 וַיִּתְפַּלֵּל אֶל ה’ וַיֹּאמַר, אָנָּה ה’ הֲלוֹא-זֶה דְבָרִי עַד-הֱיוֹתִי עַל-אַדְמָתִי--עַל-כֵּן קִדַּמְתִּי, לִבְרֹחַ תַּרְשִׁישָׁה:  כִּי יָדַעְתִּי, כִּי אַתָּה אֵל-חַנּוּן וְרַחוּם, אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם וְרַב-חֶסֶד, וְנִחָם עַל-הָרָעָה.

He prayed to the Eternal, and said: Please, Adonai, was not this my word when I was still in my own land? That is why I fled to Tarshish; for I knew that You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger, and abounding in kindness, and repenting of evil.

  וְעַתָּה ה’, קַח-נָא אֶת-נַפְשִׁי מִמֶּנִּי:  כִּי טוֹב מוֹתִי, מֵחַיָּי. 

Therefore now, Adonai, please take my life take, I beseech Thee, my life from me; for it is better for me to die than to live.'

I would worry about such a person.  If we didn’t think he was somewhat suicidal in chapter 1 when he told the sailors to pitch him overboard, it would certainly seem that way now.  This is a man in existential distress.

In our own lives, occasionally we find ourselves, God forbid, dealing with people who are thinking about suicide. I have personally known a couple of friends who suffered from depression and committed suicide:  my friend Ken in Philadelphia in 1999 and my friend Michelle in Montreal in 2000. Zichronam livrachah/ May their memories be for a blessing.

Depression is a horrible disease, but help is available. If you or anyone you know ever have suicidal thoughts, God forbid, please call the the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline toll-free number, 1-800-273-TALK(8255).  Calling that number would connect the caller to a certified crisis center near where the call is placed.[1]

In any event, none of the commentaries I’ve read about the Book of Jonah focus in that direction.  They apparently interpret Jonah’s exclamations as just melodramatic , exaggerated language.  Rather then seeing Jonah as potentially suicidal they see him as simply angry and annoyed with God.

But why the anger and annoyance?

Some would say, Jonah was just motivated by ego. If he preaches that Nineveh will be destroyed, and then it doesn’t get destroyed, then he’ll get the reputation of being an incompetent prophet.

But prophecy – at least in the sense that Judaism understands the term – is not about predicting the unalterable future.  Rather, it’s about shedding a light on the ills of society to encourage it to reform itself.  It’s not about what “will” happen but rather about what “could” happen if we don’t change our ways.

As we learned in chapter 3 – there is more than one way in which a city can be nehpahkhet (“overturned”).

But the main philosophical issue played out in chapter 4 of the Book of Jonah is that God’s justice is tempered by God’s compassion – implicitly teaching us that our own sense of justice should be tempered by compassion.  Jonah is the kind of “by the book” stickler who wants everyone to play by the rules and to suffer the consequences if they don’t. 

Jonah wonders where is the justice in the world if evildoers don’t get the punishment due them?

But we know better than Jonah --- This world needs both justice and mercy – both din and rachamim. That’s our Jewish understanding of the way of the world.  We are all less than perfect.  And God, as it were, does not expect us to be perfect.  Rather, what we can and ought to be doing is trying to be the best versions of ourselves, to the best that we can.  And that very much includes being forgiving of others. 

In Jonah chapter 4, God, as it were “throws shade” at Jonah.

First, in the literal sense, God provides Jonah with a “kikayon” – which is a large, shade producing plant.  Jonah is most pleased with this.  But soon thereafter God sends a worm to attack the plant and cause it to wither.  This prompts Jonah once again to complain that he “would rather die than live.”

But God has the last word --- throwing shade of a different kind -- the kind of “shade” defined by www.urbandictionary.com as “acting in casual or disrespectful manner towards someone.”[2]

How does God “throw shade” at Jonah in that urbandictionary slang sense? 

Well, listen to God’s last words to Jonah – the last words of the book, to which Jonah has no response, no answer, no teshuvah:

“You cared about the plant, which you did not work for and which you did not grow, which appeared overnight and perished overnight. And should not I care about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not yet know their right hand from their left, and many beasts as well”[3]

Our Temple member David Siegler wrote about this passage in our Temple bulletin a few years ago.  He writes of Jonah: 

“Jonah is the archetypal slacker, self-involved and self-pitying, who just never gets it that it’s not all about him.[…] 

“Jonah is just clueless that God has saved the lives of over a hundred thousand people; all he can think of is that he missed the Packers-Vikings game on TV.”

And David Siegler paraphrases God’s final words to Jonah this way:

 “You know what?  There’s a whole bunch of cattle there too, and right now, they mean a whole lot more to me than you and your insufferable attitude, and don’t even get me started with where I think you stack up against the Ninevan cockroaches!” 

As David Siegler’s essay broadly hints to us, there’s plenty of humor in the Book of Jonah.

But all this all this talk of prophecy, and the imagery of Jonah in chapter 4 sitting forlornly in his sukkah east of the City of Nineveh, boiling in the hot sun and the sultry wind, had me thinking about climate change. 

Many prophets of our own time are right now trying to get us to change our ways both at the grassroots level and at the governmental level to save humanity from this worsening scourge.  Wildfires, floods, droughts --- the signs grow more ominous each year.

We have to have hope.  But we also have to have a sense of urgency.  Both at the grassroots level and at the governmental level. 

Unlike Jonah, I’m sure that those sounding the alarms on climate change would be happy if a great teshuvah movement of environmental action staves off the worst forecasts --- so that the worst forecasts prove to be as wrong as Jonah’s forecast of Nineveh’s destruction.

And yet, I didn’t tell you this part – and the author of the Book of Jonah doesn’t tell us this part either.  But the fact is that that great city of Nineveh was in fact destroyed by the Medean Empire in 612 BCE, about a century after the events described in the Book of Jonah, though prior to the writing of the Book of Jonah.[4] 

This was hinted at in Jonah 3:3 where it says that Nineveh “haytah ir gedolah leylohim” – “Nineveh WAS [past tense] a great city to God.”

All of this reminds us that teshuvah is an ongoing task.  It’s not a one-shot deal.  We may overturn a terrible verdict.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean that we won’t possibly have new challenges in the future.

Sometimes we can get frustrated with it all, like Jonah.

Jonah, who didn’t know how to take yes for an answer. 

Jonah, who couldn’t accept that he had a beneficial role to play in the lives of others – and that he had succeeded in bringing about needed change. 

And sometimes, in the face of the enormity of the tasks before us, we get frustrated. We lose sight of the beneficial role we play in the lives of others and in the healing of the world. 

Today is Yom Kippur our communal Day of Atonement. Though Yom Kippur comes once a year, teshuvah is a year long process. Indeed, a lifelong process.  There will be new challenges in the future even after we muddle through the current ones.

But we are not in it alone – and that is indeed a blessing.

***************

We have spent a lot of time this High Holiday season thinking about the Book of Jonah.  We finally get to hear it – in bilingual stereo! – this afternoon when Linda Eason and Kathy Levine come up to the bima as our Ba’alot Maftir for the Yom Kippur afternoon service.  I hope you’ll all be able to join us for that at 3:30 p.m. today.

In the meantime, I hope all who are fasting are having a tzom kal (an “easy fast”), and that this day brings all of us chatimah tovah (a “good sealing”) in the Book of Life, at this start of shanah tovah umetukah  (a “good and sweet [new] year”).

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2021/ Tishri 5782)

[1] Within the next few months a new simpler phone number “988” will become available for this national hotline. See: https://www.fcc.gov/sites/default/files/988-fact-sheet.pdf

[2] https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Shade

[3] Jonah 4: 10-11

[4] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Nineveh_(612_BCE)

OVERTURNING

Sermon for Kol Nidre night 5782

September 15, 2021

As I’ve previously mentioned, I’ve decided this year to structure my four High Holiday sermons around the four chapters of the Book of Jonah.  On Erev Rosh Hashanah, we focused on Jonah chapter 1.  On the first morning of Rosh Hashanah, we focused on Jonah chapter 2.  Tonight, it’s chapter 3 that’s in the spotlight, and tomorrow morning we’ll reflect on the lessons of Jonah chapter 4.  After all that, please be sure to “tune in” at 3:30 p.m. tomorrow afternoon for the Yom Kippur mincha service when we --- just like Jewish communities all around the world – will be reading the Book of Jonah itself as the haftarah for our Yom Kippur afternoon Torah service. 

When we last left off our examination of the Book of Jonah at the end of Chapter 2, Jonah had spent three days and nights in the belly of the great fish.  There he had uttered an emotional, poignant prayer --- not of supplication but rather of thanksgiving.  Even in his darkest hour he found reason to count his blessings.  Then the chapter concluded with God causing the great fish to vomit out Jonah onto the safety of dry land.  End of chapter 2.

As we’ve noted earlier, that could have reasonably been the end of the story.  Jonah had learned his lesson.   God forgave him for his rebelliousness, and he was saved from the clutches of death.

But one of the deep lessons of the Book of Jonah – and I have to admit – one of the great lessons all of us learn in life – is that  -- well --- it’s not just about us!  Jonah has been through some drama in his life.  All of us get to go through lots of drama in our lives – but it’s not all about us.  In the case of the Book of Jonah, from a certain point of view, the main character is not Jonah but rather, the collectivity of the population of Nineveh – ha’ir hagedolah hazot/ That great city.

They are the ones facing imminent destruction!

They are the ones for whom we need to focus our concern!

And so, at the start of Chapter 3, that indeed is where our focus turns -----

וַיְהִ֧י דְבַר־ה' אֶל־יוֹנָ֖ה שֵׁנִ֥ית לֵאמֹֽר׃

ק֛וּם לֵ֥ךְ אֶל־נִֽינְוֵ֖ה הָעִ֣יר הַגְּדוֹלָ֑ה וּקְרָ֤א אֵלֶ֙יהָ֙ אֶת־הַקְּרִיאָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר אָנֹכִ֖י דֹּבֵ֥ר אֵלֶֽיךָ׃

The word of the Eternal came to Jonah a second time: “Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it what I tell you.”[1]

 In the Book of Jonah, unlike in every other book in the Neviim/Prophets section of the Bible, we never actually get the specific content of the prophetic message verbatim.  There is no – “Koh Amar Adonai”/ “Thus sayeth the Lord” coming out of Jonah’s mouth.  As far as the explicit text of Jonah chapter 3 is concerned --- all Jonah says to the Ninevites is five Hebrew words: 

ע֚וֹד אַרְבָּעִ֣ים י֔וֹם וְנִֽינְוֵ֖ה נֶהְפָּֽכֶת׃

 “Forty days more, and Nineveh נֶהְפָּֽכֶת!”

That last Hebrew word – nehepachet [נֶהְפָּֽכֶת] – is translated in the Jewish Publication Society commentary on the Book of Jonah as “shall be overturned.”[2] [3] 

So we have ----

ע֚וֹד אַרְבָּעִ֣ים י֔וֹם וְנִֽינְוֵ֖ה נֶהְפָּֽכֶת׃

(“Od arba’im yom ve-Nineveh nehpakhet”)

“Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overturned”

Careful listeners will note that this verb – OVERTURN – is the same verb used to describe God’s destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah in the Book of Genesis:

וַֽיַּהֲפֹךְ֙ אֶת־הֶעָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֔ל

(“Vahafokh et he’arim ha’el”)

“[God] OVERTURNED [ וַֽיַּהֲפֹךְ֙ ] those cities … “ [4]

(The words וַֽיַּהֲפֹךְ֙ and נֶהְפָּֽכֶת being different conjugations of the same Hebrew verb)

Thus, Jonah (or more importantly, everyone hearing the tale) would  understand that Jonah was being called to announce to Nineveh that its fate was to be like that of Sodom and Gomorrah.

You know, fire and brimstone and all that….

However, that verb “OVERTURN” / “lehafokh” (or, in its passive form “leheyhafekh”) is a word with a double meaning.  It could mean that the City of Nineveh will be destroyed (just as Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed), but it could also mean that the City of Nineveh could, so to speak, turn over a new leaf (as might have been the case had 10 righteous people been found in Sodom and Gomorrah).

Would Jonah’s prophetic message convince Nineveh to reform its ways and do better? 

To repent of its current ways and act “leheyfekh” – in the opposite way?

Could it be “nehepakhet”/ “overturned” in the positive sense of being reformed rather than being destroyed?

Indeed, that is what happens.  Jonah, the reluctant prophet – Jonah, the prophet of so few words – becomes the most successful prophet in all of Biblical literature. 

In the very next verse, scripture reports

וַֽיַּאֲמִ֛ינוּ אַנְשֵׁ֥י נִֽינְוֵ֖ה בֵּֽאלֹהִ֑ים

“The people of Nineveh believed God.”

What led them to be so readily convinced?

The medieval commentator David Kimchi aka “Radak” says: “They believed” because the sailors [i.e., the sailors who had been on the ship with Jonah in chapter 1] were in the city and testified about Jonah that they had cast him into the sea, and the rest of his story as it happened. This is why they believed [Jonah’s] prophecy and repented completely.[5]

And at the end of chapter 3 – a very short chapter, only 10 verses long – the episode concludes with the simple report: 

God saw what they did, how they were turning back from their evil ways. And God renounced the punishment [God] had planned to bring upon them, and did not carry it out.[6]

Some contemporary commentators see this whole episode, just like the previous episodes of Jonah sleeping through a raging storm, and Jonah get swallowed up and vomited out by a great fish --- as being the stuff of satire. 

It’s all just so over the top.

Let’s be honest here:

Jonah is like the

Worst.     Prophet.       Ever.

Yet, paradoxically, he’s the most successful prophet because -- ultimately – it’s not all about him. 

Rather it’s about God’s forgiveness.  And, even more importantly – it’s about the grassroots efforts of people.  In Chapter 3 of the Book of Jonah it’s the people of Nineveh themselves who take action – changing their ways and, in the cultural language of the time, fasting, donning sackcloth and sitting in ashes. 

The King gets into the act, but only after the people have taken all these efforts upon themselves first: The people of Nineveh believed God. They proclaimed a fast, and great and small alike put on sackcloth. And when the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, took off his robe, put on sackcloth, and sat in ashes.[7]

Reading and thinking about the Book of Jonah during these Yamim Nora’im/ Days of Awe leads us to think about our own society.  Nineveh is a case study of a corrupt, immoral, unjust society that mends its ways, with a push from an outside observer, and with grassroots efforts of the population at large, together with its governmental leadership, working towards a common goal.

In our own country, there are plenty of “evil ways” from which we need to find common cause with our fellow Americans in order that our society might be “OVERTURNED” ---- in the good sense of the word.

To name a few of those “evil ways” :

We need lahafokh (“to overturn”) from the evils of :

• Racism (including but not limited to racism against Black people)

• Religious-based and ethnic-based prejudice against minority religious and ethnic groups (including but not limited to antisemitism and Islamophobia).

• Excessive Income inequality

• Lack of universal access to affordable health care.

• Environmental degradation

• Threats to voting rights  

• Efforts to deny pregnant women control over their own bodies.

And to these concerns we can also add the classic language of scripture that includes explicit calls for caring and compassion  ----- concerns that remain as relevant today as when they were written centuries ago. 

As we are called upon in the haftarah from Isaiah chapter 58 that we’ll read tomorrow morning:

To unlock fetters of wickedness,

And untie the cords of the yoke

To let the oppressed go free;

To break off every yoke.

[…] to share your bread with the hungry,

And to take the wretched poor into your home;

When you see the naked, to clothe [them],

And not to ignore your own kin.[8]

Isaiah, in the verses immediately preceding the ones I just quoted, rails against teshuvah that is merely performative --- fasting and crying out in prayer while still acting unjustly.  And one wonders what his reaction would have been to the over-the-top Ninevites who not only fast, put on sackcloth and sit in ashes --- but have their animals do so as well! 

And yet, such rituals can be motivational. 

Isaiah doesn’t want us to stop doing ritual.  He just wants us to be sure that our pious actions motivate us to action outside the confines of our synagogues and homes. 

For us today, like the Ninevites of old, and like the first audiences of Isaiah, our prayers, our fasting, our Yom Kippur practices of self-denial, should serve as motivations for doing more in the remainder of the year to set ourselves and our world aright.

And, as for the Ninevites, at Jonah 3:10 we read that

וַיַּ֤רְא הָֽאֱלֹהִים֙ אֶֽת־מַ֣עֲשֵׂיהֶ֔ם כִּי־שָׁ֖בוּ מִדַּרְכָּ֣ם הָרָעָ֑ה

“God saw what they did, how they were turning back from their evil ways.”

Concerning this language, the contemporary commentator Uriel Simon observes

“In penitence, deeds have greater weight than words.  Accordingly it is not written that God heard their prayer but that [God] saw their deeds. [9]

And so, in the end (the end of the last verse of Chapter 3 that is),

וַיִּנָּ֣חֶם הָאֱלֹהִ֗ים עַל־הָרָעָ֛ה אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֥ר לַעֲשׂוֹת־לָהֶ֖ם וְלֹ֥א עָשָֽׂה׃

“God renounced the punishment [God] had planned to bring upon them, and did not carry it out.”[10]

We read the Book of Jonah on Yom Kippur to remind ourselves that even the most vile, corrupt society can right itself if we all do our part.

As for us, there is much that is good about our society and much that is good in our individual selves.  We are NOT Nineveh.  We are NOT Sodom.  We are NOT Gomorrah.  But there is still plenty of work to be done.  Let’s get to it (or let’s get back to it) once Yom Kippur, this Sabbath of Sabbaths, is over.

But I know what you’re thinking:  Yet again, it seems like we’ve reached the end of the story of Jonah: 

Jonah has done what God asked him to do.

Jonah’s mission has succeeded. 

God has been appeased. 

And the Ninevites have turned from their evil ways. 

But there’s still more to come to this story of Yonah Ben Amitai, the reluctant prophet.

We’ll talk about that tomorrow morning when we consider the thought-provoking final chapter of the Book of Jonah --- and we’ll read the Book of Jonah tomorrow afternoon.

Meanwhile, gmar chatimah tovah/ May we all be sealed in the Book of Life for a good year – us, our families, our friends, our country, our people and our world.

Amen.

© Rabbi David Steinberg (September 2021/ Tishri 5782)

[1] Jonah 3: 1-2

[2] The JPS Bible Commentary: Jonah, Uriel Simon, editor (p. 29)

[3] Or “overthrown.”  The word is derived from the verbal root consonants hey-pey-kaf [ה.פ.כ], the basic meaning of which is to turn over, invert or reverse.  (The word for “revolution” in Hebrew is מהפכה [“mahpecha”])

[4] Gen. 19:25

[5] Radak on Jonah 3:5

ויאמינו. כי אנשי האניה היו בעיר והעידו עליו כי הטילוהו אל הים וכל ענינו כמו שהיה לפיכך האמינו בנבואתו ושבו בתשובה שלמה

[6] Jonah 3:10

[7] Jonah 3: 5-6

[8] Isaiah 58: 6-7

[9] JPS Bible Commentary: Jonah (p. 33)

[10] Jonah 3:10

ARE WE THERE YET?

Sermon for First Morning of Rosh Hashanah 5782

September 7, 2021

Many of you know that I majored in music history and theory as an undergrad, and that classical music is a big passion of mine. So, anyway, I’m in a private Facebook group ironically titled “Pretentious Classical Music Elitists.”  One of the topics that frequently arises among self-described pretentious classical music elitists is whether at a classical music performance it’s okay to applaud between movements.  The debate can get heated!  There are those who say that the enforced silence between movements of a symphony or a concerto is just a snobby practice designed to embarrass those who might not know about that bit of bourgeois concert etiquette.  And there are those who say that a concerto or symphony in several movements should be judged as an entire complete work of art, and that applauding between movements breaks the mood and the continuity of the piece.  And there are those who point out that composers in the 18th and early 19th centuries expected people to applaud between movements, and that the practice of keeping silent only developed in the late 19th century so it’s best not to lump together different historical eras as if they were all identical.

I’m definitely one of those people that hates clapping between movements, but I get how it’s tempting to do so.  You reach a climactic resolution and want to react to it.  You want to unburden yourself from holding back your emotions with bated breath. 

Anyway, that’s how I think any of us might feel when we get to the end of Chapter 2 of the Book of Jonah.  (You were wondering how I was going to transition to High Holiday related material, right?)

As I wrote in my September bulletin article, as the High Holidays approached this year, I found myself thinking a lot about the lessons of the Book of Jonah, which we read on Yom Kippur afternoon.  The second chapter of the Book of Jonah contains its most famous episode --- when Jonah is swallowed up by a great fish.  He spends three days and three nights in the belly of the fish (which, by the way, is never explicitly identified as a whale).   He fervently prays to God.  And, at the end of the chapter, the fish vomits him out onto the dry land.

In the last year and a half, our lives have at times, like that of Jonah, seemed constricted as if we too were trapped inside a claustrophobic, albeit protective, container. And then, halleluyah, vaccines against the pandemic became available, the worst of the crisis seemed to have ended, and we, as it were, seemed to be on dry land again.  But no – when Jonah gets out onto dry land that’s only the halfway point of the Book of Jonah.  He has more challenges and existential crises ahead.  And, alas, our own Covid-related challenges are not yet over either.

If Jonah, or any of us reading his story, would dare to think that he was now free and home safe after the great fish vomits him out onto the safety of dry land   -- well that would be like applauding after the first movement of a classical concerto.  Save your applause.  We’re not there yet – not by a long shot.

Still, on the other hand, c’mon now, can’t we be happy for getting this far?

As I mentioned last night, I’ve decided this year to structure my four High Holiday sermons around the four chapters of the Book of Jonah.  Last night we focused on Jonah chapter 1.  This morning we’re focusing on Jonah chapter 2.  Kol Nidre night it will be chapter 3 in the spotlight, and then chapter 4 on Yom Kippur morning.  After all that, we’ll actually read the Book of Jonah, as we do each year, on Yom Kippur afternoon. 

So, when we left off at the end of chapter 1, that complicated hero of our story, Yonah ben Amitai, had been thrown into the sea – seemingly destined to certain death by drowning.  But we all have heard this biblical tale often enough over the years to know that that’s not where it ends.

Right at the start of Jonah chapter 2, scripture says Vayiman Adonai Dag Gadol --- The Eternal appointed a Great Fish --- to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. 

In Chapter 1 we had heard Nineveh described as “ha’ir hagedolah” (“The Great City”), and then a “ru’ach gedolah” (“a great wind”) brought up “sa’ar gadol” (“a great storm”).  Now in chapter 2 we have “dag gadol” (“a great fish”).  The story all but propels us along with its use of all these superlatives.

In the remainder of Chapter 2, we encounter a prayer, in poetic meter, that Jonah is said to have prayed from the belly of the fish.  When the text of the prayer is concluded, all we have is just the simple report that God spoke to the fish “vayika et Yonah el hayabasha” (“and it spewed Jonah out upon the dry land.”)

So that’s where we find ourselves at the end of Jonah Chapter 2. Safe on dry land, but God is not yet done with us.

And that’s where we find ourselves now with that anxiety-filled year 5781 having come to a close at sundown last night; 

with most of us vaccinated, at least if we are age 12 and over;

with a few of us already having received booster shots beyond the original vaccination;

with schools, restaurants, gyms, theatres open or soon to be opened. 

But, no, this pandemic is not yet done with us either. 

Obvious case in point --- most of you are watching me on Zoom rather than joining me here at Temple in person.

It sucks.

But still, isn’t some applause deserved, even between movements? 

We’re in better shape -- less scary shape --- today than we were on Rosh Hashanah 5781.  Last year we could only hope and pray for the development of vaccines.  This year they are here.  And the scientific know-how already exists such that, as variants develop, those vaccines can be tweaked and modified to target the variants that arise.[1]  We do that every year for the annually mutating flu virus I have no doubt that it’ll get done for the new Coronavirus variants, including the Delta variant that is currently throwing so many of our previous plans awry.  And meanwhile, we wait anxiously for vaccines to be made available to our children under age 12.

But getting back to our friend Yonah ben Amitai.  The Bible tells us that he was inside that big fish for three days and three nights.  Seems a little nightmarish if you think about it, but better than drowning, right?  And our friend seemed to have time to think deeply about his life and about the direction he had been heading.  I’m sure that the same is true for many of us who spent weeks and months in relative isolation in earlier phases of the pandemic, and as well for some of us who are still lying low out of concern for our health or that of our families. 

As I said last night, we run the spectrum in terms of our relative comfort or discomfort with risk.  But where the you-know-what hits the fan is when we get to the matter of some people’s personal choices endangering others.  I don’t think it’s a real problem among the members of our congregation, but, in American society at large, we well know that vaccine hesitancy is causing big problems.  And that we might have been much further along in getting past the pandemic by now had it not been for the failure of some of our fellow Americans to get their Covid shots. 

Shame on them. 

And shame on the political leaders who have tried to ban mask mandates and other health initiatives when those initiatives would be prudent by any fair analysis.

But I digress.  Let’s get back to Jonah.  His prayer from the belly of that great fish is so poignant.  It’s so striking in that it’s a prayer of thanksgiving that he recites even while he is still, let’s face it --- SWALLOWED UP INSIDE A BIG FISH!

How many of us can find the serenity to be thankful for our blessings even when we are still in the midst of crisis? 

Jonah could. 

He proclaims from amidst those narrow straits:

In my distress I called to the Eternal,

Who answered me;

From the belly of Sheol I cried out,

And You heard my voice.

You cast me into the depths,

Into the heart of the sea,

The current engulfed me;

Your billows and waves

Swept over me,

I thought I was driven away

Out of Your sight:

Would I ever gaze again

Upon Your holy Temple?

The waters closed in over me,

The deep engulfed me.

Weeds twined around my head.

I sank to the base of the mountains;

The bars of the earth closed upon me forever.

Yet You brought my life up from the pit,

O my Eternal God!

When my soul was about to faint away,

I remembered the Eternal;

And my prayer came to You,

To Your holy Temple.

They who cling to empty folly

Forsake their own welfare,

But I, with thankful voice

Will sacrifice to You;

I will fulfill my vows,

For deliverance comes from the Eternal.[2]

 --- says Jonah.

 – from inside the belly of a great fish! 

It’s only after reciting this prayer, not before, that God commands the fish to deliver him up to the safety of the dry land.  Pretty amazing.  Pretty inspiring.

Of course, this is the stuff of myth.  Are we really supposed to believe that this story really happened?  I sort of doubt it.  And I sort of doubt that our ancestors in the days of the writing of the Tanakh believed it really happened.  Biblical literalism and fundamentalism are relatively late developments  -- and not particularly Jewish developments either.[3] 

We love our Tanakh, our Bible, but we are not Bible thumpers.

Rather, Jonah uttering a faithful prayer of thanksgiving while stuck inside the belly of a great big fish --- This is a metaphor, a model, for all of us – that we can retain faith and hope and equanimity even when life throws its hardest punches at us.

That is indeed worthy of heartfelt cheers and applause.

Even if the story is not over yet.

*******

On Kol Nidre night, I’ll plan to share some thoughts on Jonah chapter 3.  When he finally carries out his mission to the inhabitants of the Great City of Nineveh --- to surprising results.

In the meantime, may each and every one of us be blessed with health, happiness, and fulfillment in this new year 5782.  A time for renewal, even as we remain well aware that, for any of us, we are still in the midst of a story in progress.

L’shanah tovah tikatevu!/  May you be inscribed for a good year!

© Rabbi David Steinberg

(September 2021/ Tishri 5782)

[1] https://www.pharmacytimes.com/view/pfizer-biontech-announce-development-of-vaccine-targeting-covid-19-delta-variant

[2] Jonah 2: 3-10

[3] See, e.g., https://rabbidaniellapin.com/do-orthodox-jews-interpret-the-bible-literally/