D'vrei Torah Archives - Jewish Sacred Aging

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“See, this day I have set before you blessing and curse” (Deut.11:26). This week’s portion begins and what follows is a classic Deuteronomy style of writing. “If” you follow my commandments good things will happen and if you do not “then” the following curses will follow. An interesting commentary from the Etz Haiim notes that this opening reflects the different ways people absorb information. So in this portion Moses tells the Israelites that since you did not really hear what I said God did, let me show you what He will do if you follow or not follow these commandments.
That opening reminded me of that expression “seeing is believing”. Yet, we know from our own experience or watching too may police dramas, that we “see” things in many different ways. Likewise, as we grow older, what seems true to us years go, may not seem so today. Life changes us and we see things differently.
The Torah reminds us that sometimes we do not “see” what we need until we need to and that we are surprised that what we did not see was in front of us all the time.Just remember Jacob and his ladder or Moses and that burning bush! This flexibility in seeing is a lesson for us. We need to be open to seeing things in a different way. Many of us are experiencing this now. We see what is important to us now as often very different than what we thought was vital years ago. Our change impacts how we see. Believing what we see may be a function of what we need to see at a specific time of life. Change is constant so let us be open to seeing things in a different manner. Who knows what we will find? Or who knows what, or who, will find us!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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In this week’s portion we are taught that we do not “live by bread alone”. The commentaries explore this powerful verse in many ways. We know that we can “exist” by bread alone, but to “live” we need more than just bread. For so many of us at this stage of life, we face the challenge of existing or continuing to live, no matter what the circumstances that challenge us. No doubt this challenge will impact some of your Torah study this Shabbat.
But I would like to suggest that you also look at another verse that rarely gets the attention of many. This portion continues the first of the farewell sermons by Moses. He recapitulates the Wilderness experience and in 10:12 reminds the Israelites that what God requires is that that we “fear” God. Now there are a myriad of ways that this idea of “fear” can be understood. The Hebrew in the verse is “lir’ah” and the root of the word appears as well in the 10 Commandments where it has the sense of not fearing parents but the idea of respect. So, what does it mean to you to “respect” God?
I think that is a timely question that can relate to the variety of ways many of us interpret what God is. If we jump to Genesis 1 and the idea that we are created “in God’s image” then I think this concept of respect can become clearer. It goes to the very heart of respecting each human being as a representation of the sacred. By the way, this may not be as easy as it sounds. But, at the least, it calls on each of us to model behavior that speaks to the idea of “chesed”. This means kindness. This means that respecting God, at the least, means currently, acting to or with others from a place of kindness.
There is a serious “kindness deficit” in today’s world. The transactional approach of so many has meant that I must prioritize my needs and wants and that the “I” takes precedence over the “we”. I suggest that if we look at the idea of fear and examine it from its’ root meaning, we can determine that fear really means respect and respect can be actualized through the act of “chesed”. Think about how society could be enhanced if we were just kind to each other. You may disagree with someone’s views, but civility and kindness can go a long way in creating a respectful dialogue and society.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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What a massive Torah portion we have this week. It is filled with material that will, I am sure, take up much of your weekly Torah study. This portion gives us the “Sh’ma”, the “V’ahavta” and the third recitation of the Ten Commandments. It is even more powerful given the context of Deuteronomy and the farewell sermons of Moses. There is much to unpack here, but, for this week, let us go to the very beginning of the portion, where perhaps, a more personal drama unfolds.
Moses, having been told he will not enter the Promised Land, pleads again to God. God’s response, “Enough, never speak to me about this again”. (3”26) Moses is tasked to give Joshua instructions as to the crossing and entering Canaan. What must have been going through the mind of Moses? His requests, his pleading, his prayers were answered with a “no”! We can debate the context of these passages, as tradition has, and relate it to many of our own situations when the answer to our requests, our desires, our prayers, have been “no”! Moses pleaded with God. What do we plead for? To plead is to entreat, to appeal, to beg, in a sense. This is what Moses is doing. What of us? As we grow older, and face so many changes, what do we plead for and how has this changed as we have aged?
What I think happens to so many of us when, at this stage of life, we look back and take stock of what was, we can look at what we “pleaded” for at the various stages of our own life. Maybe it was success or wealth, or love, or power, or that ever elusive happiness? Now, however, with so many changes taking place and so much transition around us, what have become our priorities? There is no “right” answer to this as it may vary for each of us. Likewise, what we entreat at, say 55 years of age, may not be the same as when we turn 65 or 75 or 85! The contexts of our lives change ever so rapidly, it seems. But, let me suggest that there maybe three things that do emerge, no matter where we are now on life’s path. These three are peace, long life and good health.
As we age, I think we come to value moments devoid of drama and stress. Peace! That does not mean a retreat from the world, rather, it means that we become more selective as to what we choose to join and contribute to. That peace extends as well to family and relationship issues. The less drama, the better! We also come to value life, as we see it gradually erode with friends and even, for some of us, begin to experience health issues of our own. That is why good health is a natural choice, we wish for, hope for, plead for a long life informed and defined by good health. These three, I suggest, are part of our personal mantras. In a way, as we age, we plead for our lives to be informed by them, and we fear that the answer may be “no”. But Judaism reminds us, that no matter the answer to our pleading, if we have life, we are called upon to celebrate it, bless it and live it.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“These are the words” (elu d’varim)! Our final Torah book, Deuteronomy, begins with this famous statement. Now words play a huge part in Judaism, as you know. The words of Torah should guide us, and we are constantly reminded to be wise in the use of our words, as words, as tradition reminds us, can also be used to harm. We live in a world of words, with information overwhelming us on a daily basis. Sadly, we have a promiscuity of words and information, but a paucity of wisdom. There is an interesting twist on this portion that we can glean from the powerful Haftorah portion.
The Prophet Isaiah was known for his strong reaction to what we may call the corruption of the cult in ancient Israel. The portion from Isaiah for this Shabbat is from the first chapter. I invite you to look at it as I think it has a specific and relevant message for us. The Prophet, speaking for God, as Prophets did, rails against the emphasis on routinized ritual. He says that God has no delight in the sacrifices that the people and priests bring. God, says Isaiah, has no use for all these rituals and empty prayers as “they have become a burden”. Now, what does Isaiah say to us that is needed more than these rituals?
“Wash yourselves clean: put away your evil doings, away from My sight. Cease to do evil; learn to do good, devote yourself to justice, aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan and defend the cause of the widow” (1: 16,17). What message can we take from this? Isaiah is reminding us that to simply say nice words and participate in empty rituals, is not what Judaism asks of us. Rather it is to seek justice and to right society’s wrongs. Some of us may say that, yes, we did that in our youth, but what can we do now? Listen to the words of Isaiah, the cause of justice is not age related. We exist now in a society that is so fragmented, where the social and economic divide is growing and the playing field has ceased to be level. Isaiah is asking us to pick a position, choose a cause and to use our “words” and deeds to help aid the wronged.
As if there was not enough to concern us, the rise in antisemitism also calls for us to be engaged in our community. Learn the history of events, be concerned when falsehoods are trotted out as fact. Be aware of the words that are used to describe the Jewish community here and in Israel. Isaiah’s call is eternal. The call for justice and equality has become muted in so many places, our tradition calls on us to be the moral and ethical counter to evil and inequality.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come this week to the final portion in Numbers, a double portion Matot-Ma’aseh. It is a challenging portion as it deals with leadership issues in many ways.

We have a difficult and challenging section dealing with the war against the Midianites. We confront a moral issue in 31 when Moses confronts the commander who reports that they spared the women and children. The anger of Moses is the subject of much concern and comment. No doubt the those of you who will study Torah this Shabbat will spend some time on this passage.

But there is another section in this portion that speaks to issues that may be impacting many of us. In 32, the tribes of Reuben and Gad ask Moses to allow them to set up their camp outside the promised land. An interesting conversation takes place that touches on community, loyalty, and responsibility. In the end, Gad and Reuben are given the permission, and they promise to continue to be part of the community. They sought the validity of their own lifestyles.

Now, this little story can speak to us today. In many of our families, we have observed our children and grandchildren who have decided to make lifestyle choices that may differ from those that we have made, or that we may consider outside the norm. Yet, today, the concept of the “norm” has significantly changed. Gad and Reuben do not wish to separate themselves from the community, rather, they wish to live their lives in their own way as part of the community, to be accepted for their choices. There is a negotiation of sorts with Moses, just as there is within many of our families. Let me suggest that this little story can be seen as a pathway to discuss how families, out of love, can embrace and support lifestyle choices of loved ones that may differ from what we have chosen. Yet, remember, just like the portion, there is room for these choices within our community, a community that harkens back to the primary ethical and humane aspect of being in the image of the Divine.

In a world and society that seeks to undermine so many of these choices, we would do well to remember Gad and Reuben.

Chazak Chazak V’nitchazek

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion. Pinchas, is a strange one. There are a lot of ethical issues here that include issues of war and killing. The most famous of the stories involved the Daughters of Zelophechad, who petition Moses , claiming their father’s inheritance following his death. Their father had no sons. Moses consults God and God sides with the daughters. It is a very interesting story in light of so much male dominated texts and tradition. But, as I was thinking about the portion I could not help but think of how this story of the daughters comes up for the Shabbat of July 4, and thus the question of what shall we be leaving to the next generations? What shall their inheritance be?
I am not talking about material issues. Rather I am speaking of the question of what type of Judaism shall out children and grandchildren inherit from us. Surely, any quick observation of the Judaisms of our lifetime will show that the Judaism that we grew up with is not the Judaism that we will be leaving behind. In my rabbinic lifetime of 50 years, we have witnessed the feminist revolution, the LGBTQ revolution, the inter-faith marriage revolution and the spiritual revolution, especially in new styles of worship and music. All of this just in the last half century! Now we add the revolution in attitudes toward Israel and the huge rise in antisemitism.
There is absolutely no doubt that this “age of transition” is playing out in front of us, that we are part of it and, we may not know how it will play out. Transitions are a challenge, and change is fraught with danger, anxiety and, at times, fear. But one thing iS true, and that is that we have no choice but to march into that future. What seems to be apparent is the Judaism that we will leave to the next generations will continue to be a Judaism of great diversity, indeed, it will be, as it is today, many Judaisms. We need to hope that strong leadership, leadership with a vision for how to manage the changes that we are experiencing will emerge.
Another thing is also true, and that is that we shall survive. We have survived these thousands of years because Judaism has had the capacity to adapt and innovate new forms when preservation was at risk. There is much to consider in this age of transition. How shall we, as American Jews, relate to a changing Israel? How shall we strengthen our communities as affiliation rates remain static? How do we embrace the rise of independent “minyanim”, symbolic of the decline in denominational Judaism? How do we bring meaning and purpose to our people in a world that seems increasingly fragile and hostile? How do we continue to hope, as we have for centuries, that the future will be better?
Perhaps the answer is as old as our tradition. Perhaps, we need to raise up the basic core values of what makes Judaism so enriching, meaningful and liberating. An essential part of this will remain the richness and power of community. From our summer camps to the embrace and support of a shiva, from study groups to a worship service; these, and other manifestations of community will be a key in the Judaism that we leave behind. These communities may look differently than what we have now. But that is OK, for, as we said, that is the way we have survived: adaptation and innovation. Let us hope we have the courage to dream and the wisdom to change and the openness to what will be.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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What a double portion awaits us this week. We begin with a most concerning ritual about a red cow, without blemish, that symbolizes purification and maybe perfection. We review the deaths of Miriam and Aaron and observe the very different reactions and then we move to a portion that stars a talking donkey and the famous “Mah Tovu” blessing by Bilaam. So much to unpack at your Shabbat Torah study!
But for a change, I want to draw your attention to the Haftorah portion that will be read at synagogue this Shabbat. We rarely focus on this section of the Prophets or Writings that tradition assigns to each portion of Torah. This Shabbat, however, we meet a passage from the Prophet Micah, a reading from chapters 5 and 6. The passage references the actions in Balak, but concludes with one of the most known texts that we have from our bible. As the section concludes, the Prophet Micah reminds the people that it is not sacrifices and such that God demands, rather, “He has told you, O man, what is good and what God requires of you: Only to do justice, and love goodness/kindness, and to walk humbly with God.” (Micah 6:8).
Let me suggest that this little verse and the message it speaks, has never been more meaningful. There exists in our society today what I will call a “chesed” deficit. We have forgotten how to be kind to one another. This “age of entitlement” has seen the retreat, in many cases, of the value of community under the onslaught of individualism. What Micah is saying is that we need to return to a society that has, as its moral core, a commitment to kindness. This is basic human activity, to be kind to others, not to gain something from them, but because being kind to another human being is a reflection the sacred. It takes so little from each of us to practice this value. “Chesed” encompasses a whole host of actions, actions that make society meaningful. It may be a simple “hello” or “thank you”, a small deed like assisting someone in need. It may be the practice of being patient with someone who is struggling or simply being kind to oneself. Try to remember what Philo of Alexandria wrote centuries ago: “Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a great battle”.
Each of us is fighting the battle of living life in an increasingly challenging world. None of us know what that other person may be struggling with; a job, children, health or a myriad of everyday issues that each of us deal with. Micah has great advice. Practice” chesed”, kindness, compassion, empathy and in doing so, we may bring about hat society of justice and peace.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This week we meet the famous story of Korach and his rebellion against the leadership of Moses. This famous story is another in a series of challenges to Moses and Aaron, and, as many suggest, the most serious. God favors Moses, there is a test of firepans which Moses and God win and, as a result, the earth opened and consumed the rebels. The rebellion is crushed.
Rebellions often have negative connotations. It is a movement “against” something, some cause or some people. But this week, for this Shabbat, I want you consider flipping things around a bit and consider what a positive rebellion may be, especially as it relates to our generation. Boomers, and we are seeing the next generation of elders now emerging, have been the first generation that has actively rebelled against the stereotypes of aging that so often have been the measure of American society. As more of us live well and healthy into our 80s and 90s, we have reimagined what this stage of live can and should be. Yes, much of the aging comes with physical and some mental challenges. There is no denying that. However, increasing numbers of us have made the choice that these challenges will not get in the way of living life. Medical science has allowed for much of this and slowly the culture has followed. Catch a ride on a cruise ship and you will see a plethora of scooters and a greater awareness of creating a welcoming presence for all people. Likewise, in recent years, we have seen a slow but steady trend in film and T.V. of shows that portray elders as active, sexual, and meaning seeking people.
This rebellion is growing. Look at the growing number of books and articles that now flood the media that speak to how one can break the myths of old age. Being active, being in community, practicing kindness and moderation, a good night’s sleep and a sensible diet are all touted as a pathway to increased longevity and happiness. It also seems that one’s attitude has much to say about our own aging as well as genetics and the messages about life that we received growing up. This is not new. In his “How To Grow Old”, the sage Cicero, writing in the year 44, noted that our aging has a lot to do with character. “Older people who are reasonable, good-tempered, and gracious will bear aging well. Those who are mean=spirited and irritable will be unhappy at every period of their lives”. Cicero also seemed to counter the myth that old age must see a decline in the ability to find meaning in life or that only the young can find satisfaction. “It is not by strength or speed or swiftness of body that great deeds are done, but by wisdom, character, and sober judgement. These qualities are not lacking in old age but in fact grow richer as time passes.” *
There will be a lot of conversation this Shabbat on the evils of Korach and his rebellion. But for a moment or two, flip that idea of negativity to our own life. Examine how we can rebel against the cultural stereotypes of aging that would have so many of us confined to invisibility and irrelevance. Rebel against the idea that at a certain age we stop seeking meaning or life itself. Look around and see how many of us have chosen to keep living, to grow older, not just get older. Life is too short, too precious to just “be”. Make that choice to live.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address
•“How To Grow Old”: Marcus Tullius Cicero. Princeton Univ. Press. 2016

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This week’s portion raises so many questions. The Israelites are camped by Canaan, and we read this week the story of the spies. Moses sends tribal leaders to scout out the land that they have been promised. As you know, they spend days in the land and return to report. Ten of the twelve speak that the Israelites cannot go into the land as there are so many occupying it, that they seem like giants and we like grasshoppers. Yet, Joshua and Caleb report the opposite. God has promised us and so we must go. The result, as you know, is that the Israelites followed the report of the majority and we doomed to wander. This story is complex, but it hinges, as so many commentaries have pointed out, on words and faith: how one chooses to describe a situation and how much faith we have in a desired outcome.
As we grow older, we often learn that how we say something is a very important matter. We can communicate so many things by how we say things, how we choose words and how we say those words. We all know the myriad of comments from our tradition on the power of words and that they can support and enliven, or they can kill. Implicit in this portion may be the idea of how we speak, do we believe or have faith in what we say, or do we sat what we think people will want to hear. Do we speak “truth to power” or maybe power to truth? Were the words of the majority of spies based on reality, or, as one commentator opines, their own self-image of seeing themselves as grasshoppers? This report “betrays a characterological flaw in the psychological makeup of these so-called leaders. The report they brought back had more to say about their internal psychological makeup of these so-called leaders.” As this commentator concludes: “Their distorted vision that everyone else was bigger than life and more powerful, is really a reflection of how they viewed themselves as small, helpless creatures.” (“The Biblical Path to Psychological Maturity”. Vivian Skolnick, PhD. P.181) Contrast that to the vision and report of Joshua and Caleb who proclaim that they are well able to overcome the challenges. “Their vision of the land derived from their own sense of themselves as strong, mature individuals.” (p.182). Was it faith? Faith in their own sense of mission? Faith in God’s promise?
Faith is in play this week. God’s anger in this portion is because the people lacked faith in God’s promise. Instead of believing that God’s promise would prevail, they “had to see for themselves” what this land was like, and, what happened was that they chose to believe the spies and not God’s promise. Only Caleb and Joshua remained faithful to that divine promise. As we grow older, have we learned to have more faith in our own experience and instincts, or do we still need proof of something. Are we afraid to follow our instincts, instincts that have been honed and forged through a life of experiences? Is the portion asking us to trust ourselves and our feelings because what people may tell us may be more of a reflection of their issues than what could be truthful for each of us?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Have you ever been in a situation where things just are so overwhelming that you wanted to just give up, run away, say “enough”! Well, we reach that in this portion with Moses. The Israelites, not surprisingly, are complaining. God is angry and Moses is distressed.
In Numbers 11 this comes to a head. Moses complains to God saying that he has done what was asked, that he has carried the people “as a nurse carries an infant”. How can Moses meet the demands of these people? “I cannot carry all this people by myself, it is too much for me. If you would deal this way with me, kill me rather, I beg you, and let me see no more of my wretchedness.” (11: 14,15).
In a classic pastoral counseling or father-like response, God suggests that Moses talk to someone about his issues and thus the suggestions that Moses get 70 elders to talk this out. Sometimes you just need to share the burden. Just like in Exodus when Moses, overwhelmed at the thought of leading his people, got advice from his father in law in Portion Yitro.
I think this little section of our portion speaks volumes to us. Looking back on our lives, I am positive that we have had a similar experience to that of Moses. Life, sometimes, has seemed too much. It is in those moments when the value and importance of relationships comes to bear fruit. Sometimes we just needed to vent, to talk to someone without judgment, to just let it all out. Many of us have felt that way as we became caregivers for loved ones and the pressures, demands and concerns of that life stage became overwhelming. Hopefully, we had the opportunity to ask for help, to seek someone with whom we could share this burden.
It takes, sometime, courage to ask for help. No matter what our age, life throws us curves and challenges that can stop us. The eternal question of “why” is always there. Moses seeks the council of elders, and he does this several time. The lesson for us is simple, may we, in times when we are feeling that things are just “too much”, not fear to seek guidance and comfort from others who may have also walked the walk we are living
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Easily the most famous passage in this week’s portion, Naso, is the so-called Priestly blessing. (Numbers 6:22-27) This three-fold blessing makes its appearance at many services, festivals, life-cycle events and more. It is the role of priests in Torah times and clergy today. It is our oldest of formal blessings and it comes as the portion ends; a portion that has other issues to discuss, such as the vow of the Nazarite and the always controversial ritual that tests if a woman has committed adultery. (Numbers 5). So many serious issues here, from trust and faith in relationships to asceticism. It is the priest who is given the task of blessing the people.

The question I raise with you for this Shabbat emerges from this idea of a blessing: how can each of us be a blessing? What does a blessing mean to you? Do we need a clergy person to bestow it? Or, as we get older, do we not realize that we may be blessed by so many other things and that these are also blessings? How can each of us “be” a blessing?

That is something that we do not speak about enough. We discuss the formula for blessing, (the Baruch atah Adonai), and we repeat them or pray them when we go to synagogue or sit at the seder or participate in a wedding or b’nai mitzvah. We receive blessings, we participate in blessings but how do we or can we “be” the blessing? Let me suggest that this question is very meaningful as we get older, and the blessing is not the same as doing the mitzvah.They may, in some cases merge, but they are not the same.

Indeed, there are commentaries that speak to the threefold elements contained within the blessing as going from the personal to the communal. However, you choose to see this passage, it does challenge us to “be” a blessing. It may be the blessing of kindness, or compassion, or presence. It may be a blessing of study or acts of tz’dakah. The merit or reward of being a blessing is beyond any tangible reward. Think about this, if we could educate people from childhood on about the power of blessing, what changes could be possible? What would a religious school curriculum based on educating for blessing look like?

Maybe we can evolve into a being a personality of blessing. What would that entail? What changes in your life would you make to be a person of blessing? Lest you think this is fantasy, look at the world in which we are living and ask yourself if this world could not use a lot more people who see blessing as a core value, a value to be modeled as they interface with others. Just to “be”, as Heschel wrote, is a blessing. So, as you give thanks for the blessings of life and beauty, grandchildren, health, friends, and family; ask yourself how you can then take those blessings and give them back to the world.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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As many of you know, Shavuot celebrates the concept of law, Jewish law, and the moral and ethical foundations of our community. Some of us adhere to the Divine Revelation at Sinai and others hold to the belief that Torah was the product of humans, spanning centuries, and must be read through the filter of the social, political, and religious contexts of the times in which they were written. No matter where you stand in this arena, one thing remains, as Jews, we are bound by our belief in the centrality of our sacred texts and the continuing ability to have those texts “speak” to us in our times. This year, as we celebrate the sacredness of Torah, we need to be even more resolute in our commitment to the ethics and values of our tradition. As a Jewish community, we at a very important moment of transition. It is time for us to celebrate our Judaism, our history, our place in this country, for that place is under attack.
This past weekend crowds gathered in Washington to rededicate themselves and this country to the principles of Christianity. To read the reports from various media outlets as to the speeches, and hopes of those in attendance should, as Jews, raise serious concerns. No one disputes that the United States was profoundly impacted by Christianity as the country was founded. Yet, no one can dispute the desire and brilliance of the Founders to recognize that marrying a religion to government would be a huge mistake. To read some of the reports and remarks from members of the current administration is to raise the shadow of history when official state religions were in place and, thus, often placed those who were not members of that religion in a position of “the other”. We Jews have walked this walk too many times.
From the time the first Jews settled in the then New Amsterdam, modern New York, in the mid 17th century, we have been able to practice our Judaism as we saw fit. Have there been anti-Jewish outbreaks? Yes. Yet, we have always prospered under the security of the law. Now, however, things seem to be changing. The plague of antisemitic attacks, the verbal confrontations and the confluence of the war in Gaza with long repressed anti-Jewish feelings, have created a reality that none of us would have predicted. There are no “kumbayah” moments now! This is a time for congregations and national organizations to come forward and stand together to reinforce the presence and pride of our community. Yes, there is much to deal with. The war in the Middles East has profoundly disturbed the status quo and created deep divisions within our community. But this is also a grand opportunity to enter dialogue within our community. Few of our community know the history of the Jews in the United States. Few of our community have studied the history of the Middle East, the geo-political background of how Israel came to be and the history of Zionism. Few have studied the history of antisemitism in this country. It is time for our institutions to bring people together and educate them as to all these issues in a safe space and in a respectful way, for there are, as many of us know, a wide variety of opinions across generational lines.
Shavuot celebrates the concept of Torah. Torah represents the idea and the ideal of a society united by the value of, as we read in Leviticus 19, loving our neighbor as our self. Perhaps in that little verse we can find the real issue. Hatred of “the other” so often is a projection of one’s own self-doubt. Maybe now, it is time for institutions and organizations across the denominational arena to have the courage to come together, knowing that there are differences, but united to bring about reasonable dialogue, acceptance of diversity and a realization that, for the common good, reason must prevail. The alternative to this we have begun to experience. We are either all “the other” or we are all one society. We cannot rely on the power of the government. It is time for all of us to react because to ignore the realities of the present is to slide quickly into social decay and division. It is time for a new Revelation.
Chag Sameach
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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I read somewhere that if you are fortunate to have one or two real good friends in your life, you are very lucky. We accumulate many acquaintances in our lifetime, but how many really true friends to we have? That is THAT person that no matter what, you can count on to be there for you. I was reminded of this when reviewing this week’s Torah portion, B’midbar, the portion that begins the Book of Numbers. Numbers are a major theme of this portion because the theme of this portion is the census that Moses is called upon to take. There is a detailed analyses of each tribe and the creation of a plan and arrangement for how to march as the Israelites prepare to move through the wilderness. If nothing else, this portion and the description of how the tribes are organized, is a lesson in organizational management. Notice that as the arrangement of the tribes is set, they all focus on the fact that the tablets of the Law are at the center of the arrangement. A not so subtle reminder that in our life as a Jew, Torah should be at our center.
That census obviously, involves counting, and that is what triggered this idea of who we can count on to be there for us. I think this becomes more relevant as we age because, all too often, many of us face the challenge of losing that friend to death or illness or even having them move away. That loss is, at times, life altering. Yes, Facebook and social media can help bridge that distance gap, but it does not come close to the ability to hang out in person with your friend. Also, the importance of those friendships manifests themselves given the realities, as we age, of isolation and loneliness. One of the most challenging realities we see now is that people outlive their family and those close friends and face life, literally, alone.
These are the people who, in many cases, we are closer to than our own family. These are the people with whom, when we are together, we can pick up conversations or memories as if we never had any time pass. These are the people with whom just “being” is, at times, enough. So, as you study this portion and maybe think about these friends you have, feel blessed that they are in your life and you in theirs, for such a relationship is a blessing, and if that relationship is now but a memory, try and reflect on the gift of presence that you were given and that you gave. In the “wilderness” of our own life journey, let us take the time to give thanks for these relationships. The Torah may be asking us this week: “who can you count on”. “Who can count on you?”
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We arrive this Shabbat at a double portion that ends our engagement this year with Leviticus. Before we leave, we encounter in chapter 25, laws concerning the Sabbatical and Jubilee year. The detailed laws around these two events are based on a very significant theological belief that has deep meaning for us and our society. These laws focus our attention on the land and the need for the land to rest and revitalize. As chapter 25 outlines the laws for these rituals, we come to a verse within the context of God’s promise to make sure there will be enough for people to eat in time when no food would be harvested. God reminds the Israelites that the land must not be sold to someone, “for the land is mine; and you are but strangers resident with me”. To the farmer God speaks reminding him that the land does not belong to the farmer, it belongs to God!
In a section of “Judaism and Health”, Jeff Levin, PhD and MPH, cites this section of Leviticus to remind us that: “All things belong to God—more so they are made up and infused by godliness—and are only on loan to us for a season. After a time, everything of this world must be restored to God, including our bodies, which are recycled into dust”. (P.346) This is a profound and, to some, frightening statement, for it flies in the face of many of our modern beliefs that prize and celebrate autonomy. This is a tradtional Jewish view, the land, our life, is but on loan to us and we must repay that loan at some time. The texts on our health use this concept to remind us that our bodies are a gift and we must, as with anything we borrow, return this body to God in as best a condition as possible. Thus what we eat, how we treat it is a condition of life.
We rarely discuss this concept. It has great meaning, I suggest , as we age. If our bodies and life belong to God, how much autonomy do we have, or should we have, over how we live, how we treat our body and the type of decisions we can or should make. How wonderful it would be if we were able to inculcate this concept to our youth, reminding them that what they eat, drink, and do to their bodies is a representation of how they are in relationship with God. Talk about an uphill challenge! But as we age, and our relationship with our bodies change (almost daily), does this idea that our bodies belong to God change how we may live our life? Have the people who exercise more, or who have quite smoking or have lost weight do so because of the theology of Torah? If we were able to teach this, would that reality change how we see ourselves and what we chose? Do you believe that all things belong to God and your life and body , ultimately, must be returned to God? Once again, Torah speaks to our lives, issues and choices.
Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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One of our more interesting traditions, the counting of the Omer between Passover and Shavuot, can be seen in verses from Emor. In Leviticus 23, we read the command to count seven complete “shabbatot” from Passover, “fifty days”. Now, to be honest, the majority of our community does not perform this “mitzvah”, but also to be honest, there is a gradual attempt in various parts of our world to revise and, in some ways, reinterpret this ritual. There are some interesting variations in the commentaries on this ritual. Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) notes that in fulfilling the Omer ritual “we may rectify the defects that resulted from our failure to fully comply with the mitzvot of the Torah.” (Living Each Day. P. 263) He notes the suggestion that we can develop our spirituality by examining our defects each day that we count, one at a time.
Now a comment from a different perspective can be found in the prayer book “Mishkan T’filah”. On the page where the blessing is printed, a comment is offered that the ritual “has been interpreted as bringing to consciousness our people’s movement from slavery to Sinai. The purpose of freedom is not simply freedom from servitude but freedom to devote ourselves to God’s purpose.” (p.570) This more positive approach, I suggest, can have significant impact for us as we reevaluate this ritual. For example, at a recent class we found ourselves discussing the Omer. As I expected, everyone but one person, had no idea of the ritual. We talked about the possibility of each day, instead of focusing on one’s defects, that we could focus, each day, on a sense of what we are grateful for. This is a class of elders, and the hands immediately were raised to mention family, friends, grandchildren etc. This sparked a conversation on the necessity, as we grow older, for remember and honor that for which we have been blessed. As one class member volunteered, she was grateful for “abundance”, the fact that she was secure.
This portion is a challenge in some ways, as it again focuses on the work of the priests and rituals associates with the sacrificial cult. It also speaks to the festival calendar and thus the issue of time. But as you study and discuss this portion raise the possibility of reinterpreting the Omer ritual to emphasize that which gives us a blessing.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is a very challenging double portion for this Shabbat. Both portions raise powerful issues that relate to the world in which we live. Acharei-Mot recalls ritual practices, calendar and in 18 contains a host of prohibitions regarding sexual practices. This is where the debates over homosexuality begin. There is a reference as the portion concludes to child sacrifice and the god Molech. Then we turn to one of the great portions in our tradition, K’doshim. This is so meaningful of a portion that we will meet it again on Yom Kippur. The is the so-called “Holiness Code”. I often refer to Leviticus 19 as sort of a “Readers Digest” of Jewish life and practice/ This chapter summarizes basic Jewish values and approaches to the varieties of life, from ritual practice and the Shabbat, to respect of elders; from business and medical ethics, to social policy regarding the status of the “stranger” to disabilities. The entire chapter is embraced by the phrase of “ani Adonai”, I am God. This links what we do with the fact that we are part of a sacred task.
What does it mean to be “holy”? What does that word even mean in today’s society? A dictionary definition of the word is “exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness”. This is often linked to a total devotion to a deity (“ani Adonai”). But none of us is “perfect” and how many of us live a life of “complete devotion” to that deity, assuming we believe in deity! It is an interesting fact that among so many congregations, the discussion of what it means to be “holy” is rarely raised. We speak of this term at services, read about it in texts, but what does it really mean in today’s world? Leviticus 19, the “Holiness Code” asks us to consider this. Taken as a whole, it would seem that to live a holy life is to do so with the understanding that we are responding to a calling, a lifestyle that speaks to something greater than each of us, and that places us in an eternal tradition, on which we are a link. This may fly in the face of contemporary life which seems to focus on the individual, what is good for “me”, all of which encompasses what some call and “age of entitlement”.
Yet the chapter tells us, in a way, that this idea that the world revolves around us is a false belief. We are born and we die and life goes on. So really the chapter is telling us that to be “holy” is to try and live a life dedicated to service and community, with a knowledge that we are part of a grander chain of tradition. Maybe that is what “ani Adonai” really means, that this life is NOT about us, but about the “WE”, all of us. What does it mean to be “holy”? What makes YOU holy?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This double portion has long challenged commentators and generations of bar and bat mitzvah students whose service landed on this portion. Skin eruptions and diseases highlight these texts. A classic comment equates these eruptions with gossip/” lashon ha’ra” noting that words can kill. This is especially meaningful in our society as we can equate the symbolism of these outbreaks with the cyber-bullying of social media. When a person is observed with these outbreaks and discolorations on the skin, it is the priest who acts as the Biblical dermatologist. There are rituals in the texts that the priest handles regarding the purity or impurity of a person.
The portion begins with a rather direct series of texts dealing with the time when a woman would be deemed impure. Once again, it is the priest who handles the rituals. It is noteworthy to see the role of the priests in these passages, for in many ways, the priest takes on the role of what the modern doctor would do. I mention this because these passages could be used to launch a discussion on how the role of the physician developed and evolved with the context of Jewish life. Some would argue that the modern doctor can be, and sometimes is, viewed as how the priest was viewed in Biblical times. He was the healer!
That led me to ask you to consider this Shabbat the question of “what heals you?” The world continues to spin out of control, and the levels of anxiety reach into every segment of society. So often we hear people speak of the need for some safe space where the tumult of daily life can be moderated. So, this Shabbat I ask you to consider thinking of what heals you? What brings you moments of peace, quiet and even a sense of “shleimut” (wholeness)? These portions speak of disease and possible healing. Where do we find healing? Where do we go to find the inner spiritual strength to meet the challenges of life?
This is not a physical healing. Rather, I am suggesting we consider a spiritual healing, a healing of the soul. There is no one pathway for this, as each of us, obviously, is unique. But I think that each of us do need a personal pathway to this idea of what heals us. Many of us, as we grow older, face so many transitions in our own life and every day we observe the overwhelming transitions taking place in the world. So much change, internally and externally, can lead to depression and angst. The Shabbat is a perfect time to take some time to recalibrate and contemplate as to what each of us need to bring a sense of healing of the souls to each of us. It is a challenge, but one whose time is at hand.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This week, as we return to Torah, we continue the detailed descriptions of sacrifices and meet again the famous story of Nadav and Abihu, who were killed by offering “strange fire”. Tradition is filled with a variety of commentaries on this story, Aarons’ reaction and the sacrificial cult. The portion also contains detailed descriptions on food laws, what we can and cannot eat. I have no doubt that these issues will form a major part of this Shabbat’s Torah studies.
I wanted, however, to ask you to look at something else. The portion takes its name from the first major word, “Sh’mini” which means eight. Now eight in Hebrew is linked to the letter “chet”, which, as many of you know, is the first letter in the word for life: “chaim”. In looking at some of the comments for this week, I came across one by Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) who commented on the verse Leviticus 11:33. This is a series of verses discussing when a vessel, or its’ contents, could be become impure. Twerski looks at this in terms of each of us, a human being. He notes that while a vessel of wood or metal can become unclean if something that is contaminated touches it, “an earthen vessel is rendered unclean only if the contaminated item is within the vessel, but not by external contact”. He then says that these verses teach a moral lesson, drawing on Gensis 2:7 which states that we are created from dust, and “as with any other earthen item, man’s worth is within himself, and not external to him”. Thus, in an age where people are often judged by what people “have”, Twerski asks us, even reminds us that Judaism speaks to judging a person for that that person does. Again, it is how we choose to live our lives that is the measure of our life.
How often, as we attend funerals of memorial services, do we hear a person described not by what they have accumulated materially, rather than what they accumulated relationally, spiritually, emotionally! We are at an age when these distinctions, I believe, become more real and present. As the reality of our own mortality settles in, we often face the challenge of examining what our real contributions have been and how we can continue, or even enhance, those spiritual dimensions of life.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Chol HaMo-eid Pesach, Holidays Exodus 33:12-34:26

Guest D’Var Torah By: Cantor David Fair

As the director of a religious school, I recently gave a pep talk to one of my young teachers. I said, “I know this is scary, but you can do this. You are capable of great things, and I believe in you.” These are words that every parent or boss has had to say from time to time to their child or employee. Another way of phrasing that is: “I’m here for you. You’ve got this.”

Parashat Chol HaMo-eid Pesach begins with Moses feeling anxious. God instructs Moses to lead the Hebrews out of Egypt, but Moses is nervous. Moses tries to decline God’s mission. It’s as if he says, “God, I totally want to do this for you, but I don’t know how, and I can’t do it by myself. I really need your help!”

God responds with a statement that I think should be the motto of every teacher, parent, and leader: panai yeileichu vahanichoti, meaning, “I will go in the lead and will lighten your burden” (Exodus 33:14).

My job is so much more than making sure my teachers have enough scissors and construction paper; it’s being their cheerleader, support system, and resource. When a teacher is feeling uncertain or doesn’t know how to proceed, I have to find a way to guide them.

God sees this ambivalence in Moses. So, God shares the 13 Attributes of Mercy: 13 ways God is gracious and kind.

It doesn’t say this in the Torah, but I personally view these words as a gift from God to Moses — the gift of a powerful prayer that can reassure those who are nervous or uncertain. When you need to know that there is a sacred, warm, and wise presence surrounding you at all times, this prayer can remind you of that. It is also in our liturgy, repeated three times during Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot, and the High Holidays. The 13 Attributes include:

Adonai (God)
God (God)
Eil (All-Knowing One)
Rachum (merciful)
V’chanun (gracious)
Erech apayim (slow to anger)
V’rav chesed (with abundant kindness)
V’emet (and truth)
Notseir chesed la-alafim (who remembers deeds of love for thousands of generations)
Nosei avon (forgives guilt of our sins)
Vafesha (and transgressions)
V’chata’ah (and releases us)
V’nakeih (and frees us [from our guilt])

Recite this prayer as a prayer of compassion for yourself when you need it most. Personally, I find this prayer the most useful when I’m on the verge of tears, at my lowest, and don’t know how to move forward. When I don’t know who to turn to or where to find solace, I know that it’s time for me to pray. God is not going to be able to solve my problems, I know that; but God can at least hold my hand. This is my prayer calling out to God for strength. I imagine God’s hand on my shoulder, whispering, “David, I’m with you. You’ve got this.”

This prayer can also serve in a completely different capacity. When I’m feeling down on myself, it’s usually because I’ve screwed up and I’m punishing myself. I’ll start making unkind comments about my own intelligence. I’ll convince myself I don’t deserve great things. Even worse, I’ll feel like I deserve to feel punished. I guess I think being hard on myself is somehow productive, but of course, the only purpose it serves is to make me feel even worse.

When I get into my head in such a dark way, this is another opportunity when I know I have to turn to prayer and use the 13 Attributes. When I screw up, does God want me to feel judged and chastised, or does God want me to hold my head up and move forward with grace?

This list does not just tell us all the ways that God is merciful to God’s people; it’s telling us how we can be merciful toward ourselves. After all, we are God’s people. All of us.

When you’ve failed to show compassion or grace because someone caught you in a moment when you were stressed, is it possible for you to do t’shuvah and then show compassion and grace to yourself (rachum v’chanun)? When you’ve made a big mistake at work and people are unhappy with you, can you be slow to anger with yourself (erech apayim)? When you’re on a fitness journey, and skip the gym one night, can you be abounding in kindness to yourself (rav chesed)? When you tell a half-truth, can you endeavor to try to do better the next time (emet)? Perhaps you found out that your parents did something harmful or problematic years ago. Instead of feeling blame and shame, can you extend kindness to the thousandth generation (notser chesed laalafim)? When you lose your temper and hurt the feelings of someone you love, after you do t’shuvah, can you find a way to alleviate the guilt, wrongdoing, and sin for yourself (nosei avon vafesha v’chata’ah v’nakeih)?

There’s a lot to being a leader. It’s so much more than increasing return on investments, membership numbers, or any other quantifiable goals. Being a leader is being a source of support to the people who look up to you. Being a teacher, parent, or leader is showing by example and being a source of support for yourself.

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Aviva Zornberg, in her brilliant book on Genesis, coined the phrase the “vertigo of existence”. What a great description of the world in which we are living. The amount of change stress and transition is, indeed, dizzying. I have no doubt that many of us will sit down at seder next week and entertain discussions about how anxious or ill at ease we may be feeling. It maybe be interesting to consider an aspect of this week’s Torah portion as a suggestion, in a way, to focus some of that seder discussion.
The Torah begins with the instruction (“torah”) regarding the burnt offering (“olah”), how the priest shall dress, what to do with the ashes and concludes with the verse in 6:7 that “a perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the alter, it shall not go out”. As you may recall, this instruction of a perpetual fire is found in many places in these portions, and with these images in mind, let me ask you to play with this image of fire, fire as in passion for life!
One of the issues that research is finding details the belief that as we grow older, it is important, perhaps necessary, to keep the “fire” of living alive. By that I mean that it is important that we search and find those issues, beliefs, activities that fire our passion and provide a renewed sense of meaning to life. Maybe that seder discussion may evolve into a discussion of what I can do to bring the sense of vertigo to a stop. Many, it seems, are content to just say “what can I do”? Yet, Jewish tradition would argue that, as long as we have breath, we can choose to, each in our own way, work for a better world. What would fire you up? What would it take to keep that fire for justice, equality and shalom alive within each of us? Remember that passage from Pirke Avot that reminds us that we are not required to save the entire world, but just work to better the part in which we live.
We will hear and read a lot in the coming days about many Passover themes. Issues of freedom from slavery, what enslaves us, the welcoming of the stranger and the symbolism of the Wilderness and the command to teach the story of Passover to every generation. The themes and symbols are powerful and, in many ways, universal. In light of Parashah Tzav, then, we are being asked what idea, value, issue can keep the fire of life burning within each of our souls. Once again, tradition is calling!
Shalom and Chag Sameach Pesach
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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The Book of Leviticus begins this Shabbat, and with it we enter a series of portions that focus on the legal foundation of Biblical Judaism. The opening portion focuses on laws relating to a series of sacrifices that formed the basis of the worship cycle of Biblical Judaism. The portion gives details on these various sacrifices and the rituals that surround them. There is an interesting comment that the word used for sacrifice, “korbon”, is from a root that means “to draw near”, as if by offering oneself or by offering up a sacrifice, we draw near to the person we are encountering, or, in the case of the text, God. This idea of drawing near to someone speaks volumes to us today. In our age of social media and screen time, of isolation and loneliness; the need to connect with other people in community has never been greater. Think of all those moments in life that had meaning and how much more powerful they were when shared. What do you really “sacrifice” when you draw near to another? Why is it so difficult for us to do that?
Among the sacrifices detailed in the portion is one known as the “zevach-sh’lamim”, or sacrifice of well-being. This was a special one that according to one comment, saw it as done by an individual and not in a communal way “because the feelings of gratitude and well-being from which it flows are very personal”. The root for “shalom” is present and meaningful because “it is motivated not by guilt or obligation, but by a sense of wholeness in the donor’s life.” The commentaries stress the fact that this sacrifice is often reflected in terms of a shared meal, one of the benefits of this is that it may bring a sense of peace between those invited to partake in this feast. In other words, to relate it today, you can have a better chance of creating a climate of “shalom” if you share a meal with people.
In just a few weeks, Jewish from around the world will sit down at a Passover seder. No doubt, many of those “sederim” will be rich in discussions as to the contemporary situations. For many of our community, the time before the festival is spend cleansing the home of “hametz”. As some of you may know, the concept of the “hametz” is much more than cleaning the home of the leavened products. The symbolism is also that this is a time to cleanse our own souls, to let go of that which holds us back from true “well-being” of the soul. In doing so, and this is demanding, we may be able to sit at our seder table with that sense of wholeness, creating or living our own sense of that “zevach-shlamim” of this week’s portion.
Shabbat shalom
Rabi Richard F Address

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A few days ago, I received a text from an old friend asking about a prayer. She was asking about a prayer that listed the basic requirements that we must do as a Jew. It seems she was looking for some basic ideas of what would constitute a Jewish life and remembered that we had, a while ago, discussed such a prayer. I called her back to remind her that the request fit right in with this week’s portion of Torah, the portion that concludes this year’s reading of Exodus. The book ends, as many of you know, with the central motif of the final portions being the detailed construction of the Mishkan. Bitzalel and his crew do amazing work, and, in the end, Moses blesses the Israelites and this amazing accomplishment.
The phone call and the reading of this portion got me to thinking about the idea of constructing something and what is needed to make it last. In numerous classes and commentaries, the concept of the Mishkan has, at times, been seen as a metaphor for each of us. So, we can ask this week, what is needed to construct a symbolic Mishkan for each of us. If we are a representation of the sacred, what should go into that construction of our Jewish soul? Like a building, the foundation must be strong, the roots deep to withstand life’s challenges and allow us to flourish and grow. This desire for a foundation of faith. Let me suggest, rests at the heart of the desire on the part of so many of our generation to seek meaningful adult oriented Jewish educational experiences. Few Boomers grew up with a strong spiritual foundation, a foundation that sought to seek the life we were living through a Jewish prism. Now, as we age and the reality of our own mortality becomes ever more present, we seek answers and a solid faith foundation. For too many of us our Jewish foundation and the scaffolding of practice have been found to be precarious.
But that prayer that my friend requested may provide a beginning of our own personal rebuild. The prayer lists the basic things that we must do as a Jew. It does not say choose the three or four you like best, rather the text states that these are the things that are demanded of us. The text of the prayer (“eleh d’varim”) asks us to honor father and mother, act with compassion, arrive on time for study, deal graciously with guests, visit the sick, provide for a wedding couple, accompany the dead for burial and make peace among people. The concluding aspect of the prayer, the element which ties it all together is the famous phrase. ”But the study of Torah encompasses them all”. This prayer, from the morning service, provides us with a firm foundation upon which to erect, create and maintain our person Mishkan of self and soul.
This week and this portion, especially in these times, may be the perfect time to ask what are the elements that make up our own personal foundation of faith?
Shabbat shalom and, as we conclude Exodus, we say “chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik”.
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“God spoke to Moses saying “carve two tablets of stone like the first , and I will inscribe upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets which you have shattered”. (Exodus 34:1) This is one of the more pivotal passages in Torah and especially in this week’s portion. Moses,, upon seeing the debacle of the Golden Calf, after confronting God, gets a second chance. The anger and ultimatums between God and Moses have calmed, does reason prevail? Is there human and Divine forgiveness?
Moses gets a second chance at delivering the Commandments. Note, as does tradition, that the broken fragments of the first set acre carried in the ark, symbolizing many things. Perhaps one take in this is that we always carry our past with us, the broken aspects on our lives never leave us, but, with hindsight and forgiveness (often forgiving ourselves) we can get a second chance! How many of us, as we look back, have lived moments when we were given a second chance, another opportunity to correct a mistake or wrong choice?
There is a powerful theme in this portion, notable in chapter 32, of anger. God is angry at the Israelites, Moses with God, the Israelites, and Aaron. There are direct and challenging exchanges in the text. Threats are made, actions are taken, it is a tense moment for this people. Yet, somehow, calm is restored and, as we see in the final verses of chapter 33, Moses and God come to a new relationship after which the second tablets are created. Does anger sometimes serve a higher purpose? Rabbi Marni Chernow in her comment on this portion reminds us that anger “can reveal a deep passion or perhaps a wound, a longing or a regret. It can help us clarify and prioritize” (“The Mussar Commentary”. p.131)
This week, as you study this very powerful and complex portion, I invite you to give some thought to the impact of anger and its’ aftermath. How have we dealt with it in our life? Have moments of anger, once calmed, opened the door to greater understanding, forgiveness and another chance to right a wrong, or recalibrate our own journey?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we meet another is a series on Torah portions that focus on the Tabernacle. Within the portion we meet instructions regarding the high priest and the clothes that shall adorn him. That old adage that “clothes make the person” seems to live within the verses of the portion. In chapter 28, we read the instructions for the “chosen mishpat”, or breastplate of decision. This elaborate article would contain four rows of stones “corresponding to the names of the sons of Israel: twelve, corresponding to their names.” The four rows will have different colors. Extravagant, yes!
But there is a very interesting commentary on these verses from 28 that I suggest, does reflect much of our life’s journey. A comment suggests that these different colors and rows represent different periods life. “Human beings reflect a combination of those four levels. At one time or another, an individual may be living at the lowest level of existence, just getting by. Or an individual may be mobile, not just vegetative, able to impose some order on life. Then there is the individual who lives with full humanity, behaving in a moral and ethical way. Finally, there are those who sense God continually” (Etz Hayim p. 507)
Each of us have experienced aspects of each these moments in our life. There that ebb and flow in life and that ebb and flow is especially relevant to this stage of our life. Awe are involved with so many changes in life now, from our bodies to our relationships, that at times, it may feel as if we are on a constant roller-coaster. That breastplate, with all the gems representing the tribes, represents us as well, the various stages of life and the reality that we are subject to constant change and that one of our challenges is that we find our place within these changes. It is easy, at times, to feel adrift, uprooted. Finding our place, our sense of comfort, security and “home” has never been more meaningful. How do you or have you, found your place in this every changing world?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Do you remember when we were a child and getting. a gift was like super important? Maybe it was a birthday, or Hannukah or when it was a simple “just because”? Or in those first blushes of love and romance when the spontaneity of a gift brought such joy? Or maybe as we grew older and we took so much time and thought into getting a special gift for someone because we knew it would mean so much? Such is a theme of this week’s portion when we are instructed to bring gifts to God, as our hearts are moved. Now, as we will read this Shabbat, this is the precursor to the creation of the Tabernacle and these “gifts”, in a way, help cement the relationship between God and the Israelites.
So, in light of this portion, it seems obvious that we can reflect upon our own life and contemplate what have been the greatest gifts that we have received and what have been the greatest gifts that we have given? I have a feeling that, as we review our journey, these gifts will not be material, rather, they will be what can be called spiritual. It may have been a mentor or a teacher or a friend who helped guide us. It may also be a community that was there for us in times of celebration and sadness. As for what has been the gifts that we have given; I would not be at all surprised is these gifts also were very personal and spiritual. I would suggest that in many cases, it may have been just our presence!
I think that one of the messages of this week’s portion is this idea of being present. Its is the gift of self. It. may be the highest manifestation of the value of “chesed”, of kindness, concern and caring. How often in our lives have we valued being with someone and/or having someone care enough to be with us? How meaningful now is this idea of the giving of one’s self as we deal with an epidemic of loneliness and as communities that we once held as stable, now strive for relevance?
The gift of our own self, our own presence, our own “chesed” may be the best way to honor what is sacred and holy.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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One of the most famous passages of Torah appears in the week’s portion. In Exodus 24 Moses reads aloud the “record of the Covenant” and the people respond by saying “All that God has spoken we will faithfully do”. There is a variant translation in some texts that have the verse read “we will do and we will obey”. (24:7). The Hebrew is “na’aseh v’nishmah”; yes, the root of “v’nishmah” is “sh’ma” so you can see how a translation can be subject to who may be doing the translation. No matter, the thrust of the words remains a call to act and live as a Jewish person, responding to the Commandments. I recall quite clearly that these words were a theme of my own Confirmation as a teen-ager in my home congregation.
In looking at these words again, I came across a fascinating Midrash. It seems that the angels were so impressed with the Israelites statement of faith and belief that they came down and placed two crowns on the head of each Israelite. One crown was for doing (“na’aseh”) and the second for obeying (“v’nishmah”). In the commentary Etz Hayim, we read that the Israelites trusted in God, having experienced the Exodus. They were not, as the commentators write, cynical to say that they would examine the demands and regulations and “if we are persuaded, we will do them”. This act of faith I suggest, may speak to us. It alludes to the fact that we often must experience life before we come to understand life’s truths. We can read about them, study them, but living life is the best teacher. As the comment states: “There are many things in life that we cannot appreciate before we have lived them and come to appreciate their value. We must do them first (“na’aseh”) and only afterward realize why (“v’nishmah”).
It is intriguing that this interpretation begins with the text of the angels coming to us and presenting us with those two crowns. I wonder how many of us are open to the ideal of angels being present in our lives, angles that present to us options, guidance and, maybe, enlightenment. How many of us have experienced “angels” in our life’s journey, angels who have given us advice, love, validation and support so that, as we have lived, we came to understand the “why”.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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What if the Israelites said “NO”. Or, what if they came to Moses and said, “before we agree to this arrangement, we would like to see these 10 Commandments, we have a small committee to look at this so we can make a decision”. But the Israelites heard the what Moses said God had decreed (19:5) and even before seeing the details, they spoke saying “all that God has spoken we will do” (19:8)
If you go to the Sefaria page and look at the Midrash from Shabbat 88a, you will find a great take on the Revelation, which is, obviously, the main story of this week’s portion. In looking at this Midrash, I could not help but think of the question of how we decide what of Judaism’s regulations, “mitzvot” and values we choose to accept and do, Our tradition is filled with Codes, statements and prayers that outline what we need, must, should do as a Jewish person. That idea of choice and personal autonomy infuses so much of our modern life. But, for a second, consider this Shabbat the idea that maybe, now more than ever, we need a firm, moral and spiritual foundation for life.
We Jews are a “choosing” people. The idea of “choseness” is a worthy discussion and indeed, God reminds Moses that if the Israelites agree to what God is about to disclose, they will be a chosen, holy nation, His “treasured possession among all the peoples”. The Revelation follows (chapter 20) and the Israelites declare to Moses in 20:16 “you speak to us and we will obey, but let not God speak to us lest we die”. What a strange declaration! Comments abound saying that this is part of the ancient mythology that we cannot endure direct contact with God.
So, this week we can ask if this rings true to you? How can we approach God? And what if some have moved beyond the Biblical God, the God of the Revelation! Have some of us had the experience of “meeting God?” What has that meant? Do we seek that sense of the spiritual, that feeling of “shleimut” (wholeness, completeness) now in our fractured world? Can we find our god in the still small voice of conscience and in the stirrings of the soul? Do we need, as we grow older, that sense of a strong spiritual foundation upon which to anchor our lives, and if we do, what of our tradition must we choose to create that foundation and then how can we translate that theory into our daily life.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Editor’s note: This guest d’var Torah was contributed by Rabbi Fred V. Davidow, a retired Reform rabbi.

The Israelites were “caught between the devil and the deep blue sea” when they reached the Sea of Reeds. Pressing toward them from the rear were Pharaoh, his horsemen and chariots. Lying in front of them was what seemed to be an impassable barrier of water.

In what became a pattern of behavior for the Israelites when they encountered obstacles on their journey through the wilderness they complained bitterly to Moses that he had not done them any favor by liberating them from slavery.

They assailed Moses with a sarcastic comment. “Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, ‘Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians, for it is better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness?’” (Exodus 14:10-12)

Moses replied to this petulant outburst by telling the Israelites basically to quiet down, be still and wait for God to work out a rescue plan. Even though Moses did not address God and ask Him what to do after this tense exchange of words, the Torah states that God said, “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. Lift up your rod and hold out your arm over the sea and split it, so that the Israelites may march into the sea on dry ground (Exodus 14:15).”

The Israelites were in a crisis with Pharaoh behind and the sea ahead.

Yet, according to a rabbinical commentary on Exodus 14:15, the Israelites divided themselves into four factions, each advocating a different course of action.

One faction yielded to despair, crying, “All is lost! Drowning in the sea is the only way out.”

The second was willing to return to slavery. If the Egyptians would permit them to live, they would give up their freedom for the security of a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs.

The third group resorted to protesting and shaking their fists at God.

“Why did you let this happen to us? You got us in this mess. You get us out.” They were stuck in their anger and paralyzed.

The fourth faction spoke up: “We will not lose hope. We will not return to slavery. We will not be mired in our anger. With faith in God we will go forward.”

It was at the moment when God heard the counsel of the fourth faction that He told Moses to split the sea with his rod and to tell the Israelites to go forward.”

In other words, the situation called for immediate action, not for being downcast, not for rehashing the past, not for complaining. As for the fourth faction, when the individuals in that group persisted in their efforts to move forward, God added divine power to theirs to effect their escape.

Living in a continuing care retirement community, I see how fellow residents resemble the different states of mind of the four factions at the Sea of Reeds: (1) Despair; (2) Surrender; (3) Protest; (4) Moving Forward.

Faction (1): Some individuals become depressed and lose hope of enjoying their twilight years. They in a way die a spiritual death because of their loneliness and isolation.
Faction (2): Some live in the past. They wish that they had remained in their homes and had never become residents of a CCRC.
Faction (3): There are some who become angry and embittered because of declining health. They blame God for causing their ailments or those of their loved ones.
Faction (4): These individuals seek to find ways to enjoy their twilight years. In sprite of their health problems they overcome loneliness and isolation by making friends. They become involved in diverse activities: playing games like Mah Jong, Canasta, poker; practicing yoga and tai chi, working out at a physical fitness center, swimming; participating in a writers’ workshop, attending several kinds of reading groups.

Despair, Surrender and Protest are reactions; Moving Forward is proactive. Where I live, I know a woman who will become centenarian in 2026. In the last several years she has lost two of her daughters. Recently she fell and broke a hip.

After repair and rehabilitation she has returned to her apartment but she does not stay there. Every day I see her walking with her walker here and there, smiling, maintaining her friendships and going to activities. She is a model of how to live with her grief and physical pain.

Miracles do not just happen. God has empowered us to help make them happen.

There is an epigram that if a farmer prays to God for a good crop, let him not forget to spread the fertilizer over the field.

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What hardens your heart? NO, I am not talking about medically, like calcium or bad cholesterol, rather, what are the emotions that get in our way of living a full and unencumbered life? This question leaps from the Torah portion this week as we read that God “hardens” Pharaoh’s heart so that he refuses to let the Israelites go and this God brings on the plague. There is a lot of commentary on the fact that God, in essence, pre-ordains that Pharaoh acts as he does. No doubt this will serve for some interesting discussions if you attend a weekly Torah study. But, let me suggest that this phrase may have significance for us as we age. Do we know people whose opinions become hardened and thus are immune to the possibility of something new having merit? Do we know people of our generation who, due to past huts or estrangements become “hardened” to any possibility of reconciliation or, to put it into our terms, “t’shuvah”?
Then there may be some we know who become hardened to the reality of their own aging. Few of us, as we grow older, escape the realities of bodily changes that bring with them new realities. We may become hardened to these new realities by denying them, which, in some cases, may put our own life in danger. This reflects, I suggest, one of the major tensions that we live with as we age, that of acceptance and adaptation. Many of us are faced with new physical and, at times, mental realities, how we choose to adapt to them will greatly influence how we live. For remember, our Jewish tradition emphasizes life, even if we are faced with challenges.
There is another commentary from tradition that speaks to this hardening text. Moses and Aaron repeatedly ask Pharaoh for freedom. In the face of mounting evidence—the plagues—he refuses. There is a comment from the sage Resh Lakish which states that “When God warns someone once, twice, even a third time, and that person does not repent, then and only then does God close the person’s heart against repentance and exact punishment for his sins”. Sometime the universe sends us messages that what we are doing is not working and that we need to change. Some take the message to heart; some ignore the messages and so their “heart” is hardened.
So, what hardened your heart on this Shabbat?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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In Exodus 7:7 we read this passage. “Moses was eighty years old and Aaron eighty-three when they made their demand on Pharaoh”. Our portion this week is a complex one. We see the first inkings of the Exodus, the promise by God to deliver the Israelites to freedom as He declares that they are to be “his”people. Moses is charged with going to Pharaoh to plead for freedom,, despite his being of “aral s’fataim” (impeded speech).
He declares God’s promise to the enslaved Israelites who do not listen, and eventually, he and Aaron go to Pharaoh. Not bad for a couple of eighty year olds!
No doubt at your Torah study, you may review these passages , plus the beginning of the plagues and the theological issues associated with them. But focus for a second on that passage from chapter 7. Even if you reject the literal meaning of the text, look at the symbolic aspect of the scene where two eighty year olds confront and challenge the leader (and by definition, god) of Egypt. Can we take something from this for us and our generations?
Let me suggest that an important message for us from this verse is that one is never too old to learn, to grow, to lead or to take on new challenges. This is especially important in our society where ageism still exists and, to be honest, the society as a whole, and the organized Jewish world, still has trouble dealing with elders. The fact that over 50% of our USA Jewish community is over 50 years of age still remains a fact that is largely ignored.
As we get older, many of us are challenged with changes in our bodies, families and relationships. Too many give in to what we may refer to as the inevitability of invisibility. This passage says no to that. As one comment noted: “The reference to Moses’s age might remind us of the potential contribution of the elderly to our society, the sharing of their wisdom and experience, and their ability to take on new challenges and responsibilities.” (Etz Hayim. p. 357)
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (1: 8) This phrase in this week’s portion is one of the more famous and meaningful in Torah. The opening portion of Exodus has so many important phrases and events, yet, this week I was drawn to the new king verse for it struck a chord in me about the element of change that so impacts each of us.
With this new king, our story undergoes radical change. The population of Hebrews, this “b’nai Joseph”, becomes no longer a secure population. There is a great change, everything is different. Please take a moment to move off the political-historical messages and let your mind consider this as a symbol of physical change. For many of us, and for many people whom we know, we are challenged to live with changes in our bodies that fundamentally change how we live. Let me suggest that these changes can be interpreted to be a new type of personal Pharaoh.
We know people, perhaps some of you, who have lived a rich and active life and then, all of a sudden, maybe without warning, an illness strikes and the way of living that has been usually now becomes impossible. We must adjust to a new way of living. This is a major challenge for many. Inherent in these developments is often the question asked of many clergy in these moments: “why”? So, we re-enter the discussion of randomness of if there exists some cosmic, divine purpose in this health challenge? Indeed, Biblical scholars note that one of the theological themes in our sacred texts is that there is a master God’s plan in operation. Can that belief bring comfort?
Rather, these health challenges that so many of us are or will face seem part of the reality of longevity. Yes, in our world, genetics and to an extent, perhaps our own environment may play a part, but, all too often these changes emerge suddenly. They are not so subtle reminders of our body, of the importance of health and, in many ways, our own mortality. This new Pharaoh challenges us to adapt and choose methods of adaptation that can allow us to live a meaningful life. Medical technology has been a blessing in this. But equal, if not greater, is the power of our own soul in how we choose to adapt to new realities. These realities are daunting, and as we live longer, will present us with continuing opportunities to seek meaning and purpose in how we choose to live.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This Shabbat we close the book of Genesis and we do so with great drama. We meet the death of Jacob, and as the portion ends, that of Joseph. There are blessings to be given and promises made. Ephraim and Manasseh, in an act of “bikur cholim”, visit the dying Jacob and receive a blessing that continues the theme of the older shall serve the younger. We meet also the text that forms the basis for the Ethical Will (49) as Jacob bestows a death bed blessing on his sons.
But the message I want to reinforce this week emerges from the dialogues between Jacob and Joseph, Joseph and his kin. As Jacob approaches death, he asks Joseph to swear that he will be buried in the traditional burial place of his ancestors. (47:28f) Likewise, Joseph, as he prepares to die, asks the sons to swear that he also shall be brought back to the ancestral home (50:24,25)
We can see here the beginning of our tradition’s sense of the “Mitzvah” of honoring the wishes of a parent as to burial. This is not just a Biblical story, for this discussion is taking place now in millions of homes. Increasingly, families are doing what we call “pre-need” regarding last wishes. With the mobility of families and the longevity of our generations of elders, these conversations have taken on new meaning.
In our time, the necessity of these conversation taking place has been heightened by the new realities of cremation, human composting. “green” burials and Medical Aide in Dying. This portion reminds us that our wishes for how we are to be honored once we die need to be discussed and agreed upon in advance. Too many of us probably know situations where no discussion was had and family disputes erupt between family. members as to what someone wanted. Why not make this a non negotiable resolution for 2026!
There are now a myriad of websites, organizations and professional consultants who can assist in these discussions, from the legal and financial as well as the rabbinic/Jewish angles. It is a modern mitzvah to have these decisions discussed and agreed upon and it is the mood of the tradition that the wishes be honored, even if the survivors may have differences of opinion.
We close this book of Torah now and do so with the tradition of saying: “chazak, chazak, v’nit’chazek”.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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If you wish a Torah portion with drama, this should be one of your favorites. This is the portion of the great reveal, as Joseph reveals his true identity to his brothers. The drama in these chapters, the emotional give and take between the brothers, is one of the most powerful and emotional passages of text.
This week, however, I want to bring your attention to a theological challenge that is reflected in the portion, and indeed, is a theological motif throughout TaNaCh. As Jospeh reveals himself in 42 he seeks to assure his brothers that they should not be distressed. “it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you”. It seems that from that random meeting of Joseph and the “ish” in 37:15, to the pit he was thrown into, to his being transported to Egypt, his imprisonment and dream interpretation; all of this was God’s plan!
This raises again the age-old question of free will vs. autonomy. How free are we? Is their some sort of mystical plan in place for all of us? How random is the randomness of our life? Did God allow for the actions of Jospeh’s brothers so as to enable a larger master plan? The scholar Abravanel notes in a comment that “although God used the sale of Joseph to further the divine plan, the brothers were still accountable for what they did.” (Etz Hayim. 276)
The tradition sees here the idea that despite a belief in some master divine plan, each of us is still responsible for what we choose to do. The tradition reminds us that no matter what your theological or philosophical beliefs are, we are still responsible, we cannot shift the blame for consequences to some “other”. Accepting responsibility for our own actions is a message that seems to be in retreat in so many ways now. As you study this portion this Shabbat, please try and focus on this idea. What we choose to do has meaning and consequences.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This portion is one of the more challenging and fascinating in Torah. The overriding theme is that of the power of dreams and how Joseph is elevated from prison to power due to his ability to interpret the dreams of Pharaoh. Joseph, as so many commentaries have mentioned, is a paradigm for our own growth as he goes from self-centered youth to mature figure, tested by life, and as we see in this portion and next week, the family bonds are always there. Also, we see that this Torah portion finds itself in the middle of the celebration of Channukah. We hold to the belief in the festival of rededication, historically of the Temple, but maybe, also, our own soul. So, this week, as we study Miketz and observe Channukah, let me suggest that the portion is asking us to ask ourselves what we wish to dedicate our lives to at this stage of our lives.
Life experience, as we observe with Joseph, is a great teacher. Hopefully we learn from past mistakes as well as successes. Often, in discussions and classes, we get into the how we have learned, or not, from the challenges we have faced in life. It is a life-long process of trying to realize what is important in life. As we grow older, many of those priorities change and we find ourselves dedicating our life to more spiritual issues than material concerns. We still dream, but maybe those dreams change, as did Joseph’s. He, in youth dreamed of power, his brothers bowing to him. In prison, his interpretations changed and, as you know, his interpretations of Pharaoh’s dreams at the beginning of the portion allowed him to rise to a position of influence and power. The dreams moved from what was about him to what was important for the society as a whole.
Rabbi Jill Hammer, in a post in My Jewish Learning, reminds us that dreams in Torah served as a means of communication, coming from God, “and as a source of truth about the present and the future. The Talmud imagines that dreaming can tap into the powers of prophecy. While the Kabbalists understood dreams as journeys of the soul that may summon messengers of ward off frightening nighttime visions.”
What do we dream about now? That is a rich question, and I wonder how our dreams have changed as we have matured. I wonder if our dreams now carry a more personal and spiritual message or challenge for us. I think that may be a possible connection between the portion and the festival. Maybe the question for us this Shabbat is what we chose to dedicate ourselves to at this stage of life. How have our concerns changed? As we light the candles, adding light each night, can these additional lights symbolize a gradual maturation of our own hopes and dreams and a new dedication to pursue the spiritual issues of meaning in life, meaning that goes beyond the material and speaks to the transcendent. What messages are coming to us now in our dreams, and from where?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“Now Jacob was settled in the land where his father had sojourned, the land of Canaan.” So, our portion this week begins. (37:1). Jacob was “settled” (“va’yeshev”). What a lovely opening! One would hope that after the drama and challenges of the previous portion, Jacob had reached a stage in life that things had settled down. But no! We meet the young Joseph, his dreams of power over his brothers and, as the favored child, his magnificent coat. Far from a bucolic and quiet life stage, Jacob must now deal with this young man, his ego and the dysfunctional family dynamic that follows. We see gain in the portion a theme of the importance of dreams and the transformation, in a way, of Joseph from self-centered youth to a maturing young man. The incidents involving Potiphar’s wife and the subsequent imprisonment outline some of Joseph’s growth. This portion is filled with rich texts, some, at times disturbing (Judah and Tamar: chapter 38). This portion beings what is often called the “Jospeh cycle” and we get to witness the growth of this character and the reality that even as he prospers, the seed of family remains.
But this week I want to raise an issue that stems from that very first verse. Jacob was “settled”: are we? I just asked a class of mine, residents at an independent living facility, what they are seeking now. The class was made up of people in their 80s and 90s. Their answers were about living each day as best they could without drama and stress and trying to stay as healthy as possible. Yet, many of them also reported that they sought relationships, new learning opportunities and growth of spirit. They wanted to “live”, not merely “exist”. While they were “settled” in this facility, their souls were alive and seeking. This was a similar discussion a week or so ago at another facility with another eighty-year-old. So, I began to think about being “settled” spiritually. By the luck of the calendar, this week’s portion comes right before Channukah (Sunday night the 14th). Channukah, a holiday of dedication, born out of a history that was far from settled. That got me to want to ask you, what will you dedicate yourself to now? What, in this stage of our lives do we wish to seek? Is it just comfort and peace? Or is it a continued search for new ideas and opportunities for learning, relationships and meaning? We can be happily settled in our physical residences; are we content in our spiritual residences. Are we now only focused on our own self and welfare, or can we take the blessing of economic and social comfort and seek to engage the world in some meaningful way?
In her brilliant commentary on Genesis, Naomi Rosenblatt comments on our portion by reflecting on a passage attributed to Rabbi Hillel. That famous passage reads: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? If not now, when?” Rosenblatt sees this passage as a reminder that we must value ourselves, especially at this stage of life, self-care is radically important. Yet, if we only care for ourselves “we are doomed to loneliness and alienation”. With the time we have left, she hints, we can seek to create meaningful change, for “it is never too late to start down the road to change”. (Wrestling With Angels. P.328).
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Jacob is about to meet his brother Esau after years of estrangement caused by the deception around the blessing and birthright. He hears of the huge company that Esau has brought, and so Jacob takes action by organizing his entourage to prepare for what may be violence. There follows one of the most powerful and meaningful passages of Torah. Genesis 32 23-33) Jacob wrestles with an “ish” (a man?) is wounded in the wrestling (with his past deeds?) and emerges with a new name, Israel, and is changed. This passage has engaged commentators for centuries and no doubt, will take up some time at your Shabbat Torah study. There are so many layers to the story. But I want to look at chapter 33, for that also has meaning for so many.
In 33, Jacob and Esau meet. It has been, say 20 years, since they last spoke. Has the memory of the birthright and the deception scarred them? Look what happens. They meet, embrace, and observe the families that have accompanied them. They take pleasure in how life has treated them. Esau says to Jacob that “I have enough, my brother, let what you have remain yours” Jacob replies that he too is OK, God has favored him and that seeing Esau is “like seeing the face of God”. The chapter closes with the brothers going their separate ways. They will never be best friends, too much as taken place, but they also know that things have changed, both have prospered and so they agree to go in peace. They meet again in next week’s portion to attend the funeral of their father Isaac.
For some of our generation this story is more than a story in Torah. It has been lived. For others, it is still being lived. The lesson here is the maturation of both Jacob and Esau. They have done well. They finally meet and understand that to allow past disagreements to continue to corrupt their family is a waste of time. Life is too short! They will never be that close and indeed, as the text shows, they go their separate ways. But they understand that holding grudges, estrangement and living with past hurts does no one any good. There is a part of Pirke Avot which speaks to this realization. In 4:1, we read “Who is rich? One who rejoices in one’s portion”. That speaks to us, in many ways, for we get to a stage in life that we understand that we have been blessed, that we have “enough” and need to let go of past hurts and feelings of discontent. It is a sign of a type of spiritual transformation to know that one who is rich has nothing to do with money and materialism, and everything to do with the spiritual aspect of existence.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This week, Jacob takes center stage. Fresh from his deception of Esau and Isaac, and spurred on by his mother Rebecca, Jacob sets off for Haran. In one of the most famous passages in Torah, Jacob stops, falls asleep and dreams his dream of the ladder /stairway(“sulam”). Again, we meet some basic themes, a dream and the fact that a hero must leave his home to find his truth. There are also some famous interpretations of the opening of this portion for example the Gematria of “sulam” is the same as Sinai. Likewise, the issue of deception will come back to get Jacob in his dealings with Laban.
But by far the dream sequence of the ladder/stairway and the image of the “angels of God going up and coming down on it” (28:12) has captured the imagination of centuries of scholars. It is interesting as well that this is a dream, at night, and the result is that Jacob, upon waking, knows he has encountered God. That got me to think about our awakening or experience of the sacred in life. Often, I think, we expect some “a ha” moment of insight. Yet, our awareness of the sacred in life, I suggest, unfolds gradually and changes as we age. Looking back, how have you encountered God in your life? How did that image and experienced changed as you grew? Have you experienced a moment when you became aware of the sacred? Jacob awakes and states that “the Eternal was in this place and I did not know it” (28:16). Has that happened to you? Was it a revelation that the Eternal has always been with us, but we never were open to that possibility until something happened?
There is a wonderful interpretation of the “sulam” that I hope you can discuss at your Shabbat Torah study or just contemplate over these next days. At a class this week that I teach at an independent living facility, we looked at this passage and how the people in the class encountered the sacred in their life experience. It sparked some interesting reflections that mirrored this commentary. It is from the Etz Haim commentary on this word “sulam”. “We ascend toward God one step at a time, making one small change in our lives and stabilizing thit before we take another step. Sometimes we slip and miss a step, falling back, but we recover and keep climbing. Most people do not leap toward God in one great burst of enthusiasm.” That is a wonderful image of life itself. One step at a time, and even when we slip, we keep moving forward and if we are open to it, we encounter what is sacred. May you keep stepping forward.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Tol’dot, Genesis 25:19−28:9Editor’s note: This d’var Torah by Rabbi Lea Mühlstein, senior rabbi of The Ark Synagogue in the Northwood, suburb of London, UK, was first published on ReformJudaism.org. It is republished here with the permission of the author.

“The children struggled in her womb, and she said, ‘If so, why do I exist?’ And she went to inquire of the Eternal. And the Eternal said to her, ‘Two nations are in your womb, two peoples shall branch off from each other; one people shall be stronger than the other, and the elder shall serve the younger.’” (Genesis 25:22–23)

Rebecca’s question pierces through the text: “If so, why do I exist?” Her body becomes the site of divine contradiction. Two nations inhabit her, two futures wrestle within her belly. The Torah’s image is often read as a prophecy of inevitable conflict, yet it can also be read — as the feminist Jewish theologian Judith Plaskow teaches — as a revelation of multiplicity.

In her essay “Jewish Theology in Feminist Perspective,” Judith Plaskow writes that feminist theology “is rooted in the experience of a larger and richer way of being, which it seeks to express within and against the terms of tradition.” Throughout her work, Plaskow argues that revelation is not a fixed deposit but a continuing, communal work — one that grows by integrating previously silenced voices and holding creative tensions. Rebecca’s turmoil thus becomes not a curse, but a calling. Within her, competing truths coexist; she embodies a covenant that contains tension.

Seen through this lens, Rebecca’s pregnancy is a theological metaphor for Jewish existence in societies that demand singular allegiance. Her question: “If so, why do I exist?” is the cry of every community caught between faith and nation, tradition and modernity.

Nowhere did that struggle become more acute than in France, the cradle of Jewish emancipation and, later, of institutionalized conformity. When Napoleon convened the Grand Sanhedrin in 1807, he sought to integrate Jews as loyal French citizens while compelling them to redefine their faith within the logic of the state. The Sanhedrin’s task was to answer 12 questions proving that Judaism was compatible with the Code Napoléon: Would Jews marry non-Jews? Obey civil law over halachah? Serve in the army?

While not all of these questions were necessarily asked in good faith, the Jewish community willingly embraced Napoleon’s project aimed at reconciling two nations within one body: the French Republic and the Jewish people. However, integration came at the price of autonomy. Out of this effort emerged the consistory system, a centralized structure designed to control Jewish religious life under state oversight.

A century later, Rabbi Louis Germain Lévy (1866–1946), one of the founders of the Union Libérale Israélite de Paris (ULIP) in 1907, confronted that legacy. A respected scholar and rabbi of the Rue Copernic synagogue, Lévy sought to affirm both French identity and Jewish spiritual independence. He embraced the Republic’s universalism while resisting the Consistory’s monopoly. Like Rebecca’s twins, these two impulses struggled within the same body.

Lévy’s sermons and writings reveal his effort to interpret Judaism as a moral and rational faith compatible with French civic values but not something that could be condensed into them. He believed that Judaism’s vitality required freedom of thought and reform of ritual. The Union Libérale offered a home for Jews who felt French in spirit yet longed for a Judaism open to modernity, equality, and intellectual honesty. In this sense, Lévy enacted Plaskow’s vision of revelation as dialogue: tradition speaking anew in the language of its time.

But, as in Rebecca’s womb, the relationship between the nations remained tense. The Consistory accused the Liberal Jews of betrayal; the Liberal Jews accused the Consistory of stagnation. Both claimed to carry the true inheritance. In France, as in Genesis, the question was not only who would rule but how both could coexist without annihilating the other.

Plaskow’s theology invites us to read this not as a tragedy of division, but as a sign of life. A faith that can hold opposing truths is a faith that is still alive. The French Jewish story, like Rebecca’s, is not the triumph of one over the other; instead, it speaks of both civic and covenantal duties enduring within one identity.

Today, Liberal French Jewish communities, organised under Judaïsme En Mouvement and La Fédération du Judaïsme Libéral, stand as a bridge between tradition and modernity, Jewish distinctiveness and universal ethics. Their commitment to gender equality, interfaith dialogue, and republican values reflects an identity that refuses singularity.

The story of Tol’dot invites us to ask what we do with the tensions that live within us. Do we see them as threats to unity, or as signs of a living covenant? In Rebecca’s struggle and France’s negotiation between faith and citizenship, we glimpse that contradiction is not a flaw; it’s a condition of vitality.

To live as Liberal Jews is to embrace this complexity — to know that faith, identity, and belonging will always pull in more than one direction. Our task is not to resolve these tensions but to inhabit them with integrity. Like Rebecca and the pioneers of French Liberal Judaism, we affirm that divine blessing is found in the courage to live truthfully within multiplicity.

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One of the most interesting realities of studying Torah is how often the passage of the week reflects the life one may be living. Far from being an ancient collection of stories and myths, the weekly Torah portion all too often rises and confronts us with a message that we may be living at the time. Such a week is this week! Chayai Sarah begins with the death of Sarah. The Midrash makes quite a connection between her death and the previous chapter in Genesis, the Akedah, where Abraham is asked to sacrifice Isaac. The Midrash weaves stories that when Sarah heard what was going on she died, from a broken heart, shock, disbelief, etc. Abraham negotiates a burial place for his wife and then, in chapter 24, sends out Eliezer, his senior servant to find a wife for Isaac. The portion is bookended, with Abraham’s death in 25.
There is a myriad of approaches to the portion. Yet, there is a theme, I suggest, that relates to each of us. That is the cycle of life and death and the mystery that surrounds each of us. The portion became personal this week. On Monday night my wife and I arrived back home after a week of travel with our grandson, a bar mitzvah present trip, a year in the making, that was alive with experiences and memories. Within a few hours of our arrival back home I found out that one of my closest friends, (since 8th grade) had died. He had been quite ill for a while and we had been in constant touch, even when we were away, but time ran out the day before we flew home. One the one hand the joy of giving a gift of memory and experience to a grandson. On the other the grief and yes, still shock, that a close friend, a contemporary just 3 weeks younger than myself, had died. Joy and sadness? Life and death? Two realities that are becoming more a part of each of our lives.
In her book on Genesis, Dr. Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, notes, when discussing Chayai Sarah, the concept of what she called the “vertigo of existence”. I read this line while still trying (and failing) to process my friend’s death. It is a brilliant phrase, I think, because it describes what many of us are feeling now. The vertigo, the inability to have a solid foundation, the sense of being adrift; all of these seem to be part of much of our lives. We need to deal with a variety of losses, from friends to physical and mental changes. Likewise, we also experience the joys of life; being with friends, experiencing new opportunities with children and grandchildren, if we are so blessed. Because we are more aware of that carousel of time, these moments of life and death become more precious. They are not so subtle reminders of our own life cycle, of its unpredictability and the need to practice gratitude every day. To think about all of this can be dizzying, it is, as Zornberg wrote, a “vertigo of existence”.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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A great Torah portion this week. A famous Torah portion as well, as the conclusion of the portion (Chapter 22) is read on Rosh Hoshonnah as it is the Akedah. We are greeted in 18 by the scene of three people visiting Abraham as he recovers from his Brit, and the tradition sees his getting up and welcoming them and providing food, as indications of the Mitzvot of hospitality and caregiving. This is also the portion where the family dynamics, Lot and his daughters as well as that of Sarah and Isaac, Hagar and Ishamel get played out. There is so much to unpack in this portion.
But let me for a moment go to a story that ius also portrayed in this portion, that of Abraham, Sodom and Gomorrah. (18) In a famous dialogue, Abraham argues or pleads with God not to destroy these cities if there remains with them even ten righteous people. The answer is, “no”, the cities are destroyed. There is a lovely interpretation to 18:32 and the number ten. Obviously, we can see the reflection of the “minyan”, but there is also the idea that “it takes a critical mass to generate an alternative way of living, isolated individuals cannot” (Etz Hayim. P.104) Here is a glimpse again, that community is a major part of Jewish life. Yet, there is another issue I ask you to consider this Shabbat. It is an issue that many of us as we grow older, are forced to deal with, especially around health: how do we deal with reality when the answer is “no”? How many of us have had to face this issue with a friend, or family member or us? We have prayed for health or healing and yet the answer has come back, “no”. How have we dealt with that? How have we, when faced with some physical or mental change in our life, handled the fact that we cannot do what we once were able to do?
In some way this issue emerges in just about every class or session we do. It does so because so any of us are facing these changes either within our own lives or those we know. Again, we face choices. From so many of our community it seems that they have evolved into a stage of acceptance and then adapt. It is often difficult to accept these new realities. Yet, not to accept can lead to depression and denial. Thus, we adapt to a new reality, we find ways to live our life even if we find that some of that life has changed. Accept and adapt is a tension that many of us face. How we choose to do this often will determine how we live. This is never easy. One can only imagine Abraham, in our portion, having to deal with the fact that after all his pleading, the answer was “no”. He moved on, his story was not over. Each of us have our own types of Sodom and Gomorrah to deal with. How do we accept and adapt to these changes and new realities? That remains in our hands, hearts and souls.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion is filled with several scenes that, in many ways, speak to aspects of family dynamics. We find Lot rescued by Abram and the passage ends with the first scenes of the Sarai, Hagar and Ishmael saga. We see the Covenant renewed and the promise that Abram’s offspring will be blessed. But, I want to draw your attention to the beginning of the portion, the call to Abram to “go forth”. He gets this call to leave his native land, his father’s house and go to a place that he will be shown.
Now in 12:4 we see that Abram was 75 years old at the time of this “call”. We may know people in their 70’s who downsize and move, sometimes to different parts of the country, and we observe the stresses associated with that. Abram is sustained by faith, a faith in himself, his God and his future.
I mention this idea of faith in one’s future because earlier this week I co-facilitated with Rabbi Mark Levin, our monthly Both Sides Now webinar. This a gathering of elders from around the country to discuss the issues related to our own aging. We began to discuss some reactions to the Holidays but quickly the discussion moved to the theme of how we can maintain a sense of worth and meaning as we experience our own aging. Surely, as we were reminded, it is a land that we do not know. Several people on the webinar then recounted their stories of having to deal with a life changing event, often in their 70s or 80s. They had choices to make as to how to respond to new situations, situations that often involved great loss.
What each of them shared was the desire to keep living, to celebrate the life that they had and even to try to do things that they once thought not possible. Age was not the determining factor; a desire for connection, meaning and purpose was. They all shared what we all agreed was their own personal “lech l’cha” moments. It took each of them to take the risk of not looking backward, but choosing to live for the possibility of tomorrow. We are all at a stage on our lives that we will be faced with challenges and choices that carry with them major consequences. None of us can know what the future will bring? The portion’s message to us, however, is not to fear that future, and, if we can, to embrace that risk of living, and not merely existing. All of this takes faith, faith in our own self, our instincts and that what we choose will benefit us and our loved ones. So may it be so
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address
*IF YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN JOINING THIS MONTHLY “BOTH SIDES NOW” WEBINAR LOOK FOR THE NEXT DATE AND REGISTRATION INFO AFTER NOV. 1 ON jewishsacredaging.com

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Noah, the righteous man “in his generation”! Surly, many of us are looking for one such a person now! This famous portion needs no introduction as it has been discussed for centuries. So, let us look at the end of the portion to visit a scene that is, perhaps, not as discussed in study sessions: Chapter 11 and the story of Babel. Here, so quickly after the Flood, the descendants of Noah defy the will of God who commanded them to scatter and “fill the earth” (see chapter 9). Yet, the people settle in one area and decide to build: “Come let us build a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves, else we shall be scattered all over the world.” (11:4 Now some of you may remember that God comes down, is not pleased, and in verse 6 and 7, punishment is exacted.
There are, as you may expect, many commentaries on this passage. Is the Tower an attempt to reach God? Is it a symbol of our ego? Does God not wish to have mankind do whatever we wish? (11:6) Let me suggest another idea, also drawn from some tradition, but applicable to today. Some commentaries link the building of the tower to the concept of technology. An interesting look at this can be found in the modern Etz Hayim commentary which states that: “Although human beings have done many wonderful things to reshape their environment, there is always the danger of becoming so enamored with technology that human values are lost”. (p.58-59) The Plaut commentary notes a Midrash that speaks to this danger. “As the tower grew in height it took one year to get bricks from the base to the upper stories. Thus, bricks became more precious than human life. When a brick slipped and fell the people wept, but when a man fell and died, no one paid attention.”
How can this speak to us today? Perhaps these commentaries are asking us to reexamine the impact and role of tech in our lives. It is a modern reality and, with any technology, is neutral. But do we now worship that tech so much that we may be forgetting the human being? Are we so tied to our tech that we become de-sensitized to values such as kindness, caring, empathy and equity? If we forget our phone we panic, do we also feel the hurt of those deprived of health care, or who must deal with food inequality? You cannot go anywhere today without a discussion of the power of technology in all our lives. The debates over Artificial Intelligence rage on. We can make use of technology to enhance our world, bring about a better more equitable society, or become slaves to it, isolating ourselves from our neighbor, even our family.
Once again, the choice is ours!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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SO, we begin again! This is an epic Torah portion. There is so much, from Creation to Eden, to Cain and Abel and more. There is the call not to be alone, the reality of mortality and the ethical dilemma of Abel’s murder. This year, however, I want to look at a small verse from the second version of Creation. In Genesis 2:7 we read that “God formed man from the dust of the earth. He blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being”. The issue here is that phrase “living being”!
In reviewing the passage for this week, I was struck by this phrase “l’nefesh chayah”: a living being. According to some commentaries, this phrase only appears here. So, obviously, the question emerges as to what does it take to be a “living being”? Another commentary links this with the ability to have thought. “Accordingly, the life that is unique to man and which only God could “blow” into him is the rational soul that includes the power of intelligent speech” (Art Scroll. P.11) What then is the tradition asking of us this week? It may be asking us what does it mean to be a human being?
Let me suggest that this question is ever more important now and takes on additional consequence as we grow older. For many of us at this stage of life we begin to ask the question of what has this life meant? How have I acted and how do I wish to act in the year ahead. Do we act with a sense of having a “ruach”, or spirit of God? Are our actions motivated by a sense of holiness or by pure animal instincts? In his “Living Each Week”, Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) notes that this phrase denotes that being a “nefesh chayah” means that we act responsibly. “Mature man is responsible for his actions, whereas animals, as a rule, are not. It is because man has the ability to make free choices that he is responsible for his decisions”. Actions have consequences and we have the responsibility to make choices that sanctify life. This portion begins with the majesty of Creation and ends with the clouds of looming disaster. How responsible are we for creating our future and the future of our children? What choices will we make in this year that has just begun?
That breath of life, to many, equates to the soul. The image of the “breath of life” is the symbolic representation of our life force. It animates us and this portion, which begins with Creation, teaches us that our fundamental relationship is with the Eternal. Indeed, so much of Torah is about the struggle to maintain that sacred relationship, despite the frailties of being human. The stories that begin this portion reflect the stories of our lives. We must learn to confirm our mortality. We need to learn that life is not always fair. But within each of us, as long as we live, is that breath of life, that spirit of holiness that, we hope, propels us to try and live a life of responsibility. As Pirke Avot reminds us, “in a place where no one acts as a human being, strive to act like a human being”. So, we begin again this Shabbat with another opportunity to be “nefesh chayah”. May we strive to be so and may we succeed.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This Shabbat we come to Chol HaMoed Sukkot, the Shabbat in the middle of Sukkot. We will end the Torah cycle with V’zot Ha Brachah on the festival of Simchat Torah, which takes place mid-week. For this special Shabbat, I wanted to make mention of the Book of Ecclesiastes, the book that is read and studied during Sukkot. Ecclesiastes is one of the more intriguing books of the Bible. It is attributed to King Solomon, but the majority of Biblical scholars see it as post Exilic. Many of our generation may remember the book’s chapter 3 as the basis for the Byrds “Turn Turn Turn”. However, the messages of the book transcend time and space and speaks to fundamental human existential questions, questions that become increasingly meaningful as we age.
The book opens with the phrase that all is futile (the Hebrew “havel”). One can see that this book reflects an elder, looking back on life and trying to make sense of what he has lived. He describes the tensions between wisdom and folly and challenges the reader to try and make sense out of one’s life. There is a powerful and challenging section on aging in chapter 12. However, in the end of the book, after all the author’s questions, the conclusion is that it is best to live a life dedicated to God and the “mitzvot”.
One of the most beautiful passages in the Bible is at the very beginning of the book. Chapter 1 speaks to many truths in life. One phrase, 1:8, I think has been spoken by many of us. This season of Sukkot is one of harvest, harvesting the experiences of our life, and in reviewing our life, how many of us have, amid memory, wished for one more day. The verse I mention reminds us that “the eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear enough of hearing”. I was reminded of the wish that so many of us have spoken that if only we had one more day with a loved one, one more experience with a moment that elevated us. In memory we realize, like the Sukkah, how fleeting and fragile life is. It is hard to leave go, to accept that someone we love is no more and that the same fate awaits each of us. Again, an existential question as to what this life really means; what our legacy will be and how we will be remembered? A message the, of this book may very well be that with the unpredictability of life, seize the moments of joy and meaning that come our way. We never know what the next day may bring, so make each day count for life.
Shabbat Shalom and Moadim L’simcha
Rabbi Richad F Address

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“Listen”, begins this week’s portion! We come to the next to last portion of Torah, a poetic call from Moses to the Israelites that reinforces his concerns for their future. The Rock, God, is faithful, the Israelites, not so much. It is almost as if Moses is again pleading with the people to listen to what I am saying before it becomes too late! We can almost hear him speaking to us, warning us to be careful to what we listen to, lest we be led astray.
But there is another very relevant passage that come to us in this portion. Talk to many of our generation and one of the laments expressed is that the younger generations are not aware of history, that they are not taught it and thus have no understanding that, left unlearned, history does repeat. “Remember the days of old, consider the years of ages past; ask your father, he will inform you, your elders, they will tell you” (32:7). Of the several messages that we can pull from this portion, this message about the necessity of generations to speak to one another, to learn from each other and to understand that no one stands alone, outside of history is of great value and relevance in today’s world.
We are called on as a Jewish civilization to continue to teach our history. The Passover Seder reminds us that we were slaves and that we must tell the story. How many of the stories of our generation will go unsaid? How many life lessons will remain unlearned? Ha’azinu comes to us this year immediately following Yom Kippur and right before Sukkot. On one day we are called to review and contemplate our history as a person and during Sukkot, we are reminded of our history as a people. The two are intertwined as an on-going fabric of life. Our Jewish fabric is a melding of centuries of history, of stories, of experiences that stretch back to Biblical times. We are all part of that.
This Torah portion is asking us to remember this idea that we are part of this historical process called Judaism. How we choose to fit into it, how we live it and how we will be remembered for our part in it will be determined by what and how we choose. By remembering the lessons and experiences of our past we can navigate our future. By sharing those lessons and experiences with the younger generations, we can, hopefully, ease their journey. “Listen” please to where we have been, and to what we have seen!
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“You are standing this day, all of you …” the opening of parsha Nitzavim, read just before Rosh Hashanah, is magnified when we are not only standing in a sacred moment, but when we are standing together in a sacred moment. Torah uses words sparingly, so when “all of you” reinforces the first “You,” this is really important. It begins in the literal sense, describing the breadth of physical people standing before Moses in his last address to the people.

It goes on to encompass those “not here today,” being even more inclusive and more open to interpretation. The examples in the parsha are as diverse as “…men and women, resident aliens, everyone from the woodchopper to the water drawers. (Task descriptors more relevant to the time of the writing of Torah).”

Rabbi Susan Elkodsi, writing for the Academy for Jewish Religion on September 16, 2025, points to the interpretation of Hizkuni (mid-13th Century France) that the woodchopper would have been a male servant and the water drawer would have been a female servant, all standing together.

Midrash might ask the question of how were all these diverse people standing? Were they apart by social distancing, or was it possible they could touch each other? What if they could?

When Rabbi Johanan visited the ailing Rabbi Chanina, all he had to say was the simple, “Give me your hand.” If visiting the sick can remove one-sixtieth of their discomfort, how much more so if permissible touching was more widely accepted?

In our age, way back in 1979, the Bell System adopted a famous advertising tagline, “Reach out and touch someone.” Nine years prior, in 1970, Diana Ross gifted us with, “Reach out and touch (Somebody’s hand).”

The slogan and the lyric worked because of the power that touch provides. What is our instinct when we meet a safe and friendly dog? We want to touch.

Dr. Leo Buscaglia (1924-1998), Professor-at-Large at the University of Southern California and motivational speaker featured on PBS television, promoted the concept of humanity’s need for hugs. He hypothesized that humanity needed five hugs to survive, eight to maintain, and 12 to thrive. Five hugs are needed just to survive. Dr. Buscaglia reflected on G-D’s creation of each leaf being different in the quote, “Imagine how proud he is of us if he goes to that much trouble for a simple leaf on a tree.”

Three researchers from Mount Royal University in Canada brought a Blackfoot First Nations creation story to life in a research project in which they joined hands together, outside on the campus, to form a human spider web.

Analyzing the emotions expressed by the participants, the professors concluded that the major emotions felt by 300 people holding hands included: awe, inspiration, happiness, and others. You can read more about this experiment in connectedness from holding hands in dailygood.org, August 29, 2025.

As a professional hospital chaplain, I am there at the moment family members are informed of a death. I am there to escort them out of the hospital when they are ready and convince me that they can drive safely. At the exit door, some whisper, “Thank you.” Some extend a hand. Some offer a spontaneous hug. Surely, touch can help at that moment. How many offer it? How many accept it? In 2023, U.S. Surgeon General Murthy published an advisory on the epidemic of loneliness and isolation. Dr Murthy labeled this epidemic the greatest public health challenge of our time. In that same year, 2023, the World Health Organization declared an end to the Covid pandemic. The mandated need for social distancing had passed.

About 20 years ago, Duke University established an Institute for Care at the End of Life, a joint venture of its Medical School and its Theology School. The first program was a day of Jewish perspectives, titled, “Magnified and Sanctified,” an excerpt from the Kaddish, here more so, the Kaddish Yatom, the mourner’s kaddish. I was honored to be a delegate at that first symposium, an unforgettable and extremely spiritual set of moment after moment, leading to a concealed final presentation. What was concealed? As the day ended, Rabbi Jack Riemer, a scholar dedicated to teaching about end-of-life and ethical wills, introduced Rabbi Kerry Olitsky. Rabbi Olitsky asked for the curtains to be opened, and introduced us to Debbie Friedman, alas, now of blessed memory.

Debbie Friedman had musicians with her and began with a few of her songs. Debbie then requested that we stand if we could, form large circles, hold each other’s hands, and let us be moved by her closing original song. It was set to a line in Psalm 126, “Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.” I remember this in a way that sociologists call “flashbulb memories.”

Debbie wisely reflected on who we were and what we had shared that day. We were clergy, chaplains, doctors, cancer patients, and so much more. We swayed together, we held hands together, we touched, we cried. I gave my handkerchief to a crying cancer patient in front of me.

There is a powerful version of Debbie’s “Sow in Tears, Reap in Joy” from Park Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan from three years ago on YouTube. A mantra I offer many of my patients, and, especially their friends and relatives visiting them, is, “Tears are the lubricant of the soul.” There are multiple sources for that affirmation.

The confessionals in the High Holy Days liturgy, i.e., Ashamnu, Avinu Malkeinu, and the Al Chet, are all written in the plural. About 20 years ago, I was part of a temple that welcomed its new rabbi. He gave us what, for us, was a new minhag, a new community tradition. A moment before each Ashamnu, this new rabbi would ask us, if you were wearing a tallit and the person or persons next to you was not, offer to extend your tallit over their shoulders also, so we could all daven as one family, touching each other.

As 5786 begins, may it be a year when we offer our hands more to each other …literally.

Ken yehi ratzon, so may this be G-d’s will.

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Many of us can relate to the opening of this portion when Moses admits that “I am one hundred and twenty years old this day, I can no more go out and come in”. Now most of us will not make it to one hundred and twenty but many of us can relate to the sentiment. This week’s portion, only one chapter, is a challenge in many ways. Moses elevates Joshua as he brings to a close his final farewell sermon. But, as I read it again, I was struck with a sense of pathos. Moses, this man of faith, is again reminded by God that “you shall not go over this Jordan”. He must “let go”! Yes, a classic lesson here is the need for leadership to continue to change and that new leaders must emerge and many of us know how difficult it is for some to make that transition.
But, for some reason as I looked at the text, I sensed the overwhelming disappointment and sadness in Moses’s voice. One could almost speculate that while Moses said the right things, there was a sadness in his soul, a sadness compounded by the reality of his impending death. Did he, in the privacy of his heart, begin to replay his life, to think about what was, and ask himself again, “what if” or “if only”? Did he, after giving this speech in the sight of all Israel, embracing Joshua and encouraging him to be strong and courageous (31:7) retreat into his tent, alone focusing on regrets?
One of the regrets is discussed at length in the portion, for Moses, having experienced life with the Israelites for years, is confident that once in that promised land, the people will again turn to idolatry and forsake the covenant that he has tried so hard to instill. Did he fail? Looking back, as he did, could he see the courage that it took to assume the mantle of leadership, forsaking what could have been a more privileged life? As he confronted his own mortality, what could have been going through his mind? Did he die with regret or with a sense of having done his best? This portion challenges us, at this stage of our life, to ask similar questions. How have we handled disappointments? Perhaps it is no coincidence that we read this portion on the Shabbat between Rosh Hoshana and Yom Kippur, the so-called Sabbath of Repentance. Those “gates of repentance” stand open as we contemplate where we have come from and what we wish to become in this new year. How will we respond to our own questions of “what if” and “if only”?
Shabbat Shalom and Shannah Tovah
Rabbi Richard F Address

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As usual, the weekly Torah portion has something to say to our current life situation. Nitzavim is one of those portions that has much to say and to teach. Moses’s farewell sermon is concluding, as is his life, and it is as if in this passage he summons all his strength to speak truth to power. He reminds the Israelites that they are being called to remember the Covenant, that life will be a series of choices and that this tradition that he is bequeathing asks that we make choices that sanctify life (30:19). He reminds us that this Covenant is for all time, that this “chain of Jewish tradition” really does flow through history, from one generation to another, that we are part of history. You can almost feel his passion and pleading in the text!
But this year, I ask you to look at the beginning of this portion when we are told that “we stand this day, all of you before your God” (29:9) The text reminds us that this “call” is for all levels of people regardless of status, from tribal heads to woodchoppers! This portion is asking each of us, what do we stand for now? It is asking, in a world which is increasingly divided along status, class and economic lines, what choices will you make to sanctify life, to create a social equitable society? The very values of Jewish life, values of Torah and Prophets, of the sages of Kabbalah, Hasidism, and Enlightenment, all are under attack at home and abroad. This portion comes on the very precipice of the High Holidays. Our Jewish world will stand before God, pray, ask for forgiveness and, it is hoped, bare our souls before the reality of our own mortality.
What this portion is asking us to do is to emerge from these holidays with a greater sense of purpose and passion to bring about the message of Moses. We are being faced now with direct choices of life and death, blessing and curse within every aspect of life. For many of our age it is easy to say that our time has passed and there is nothing we can do. If we abdicate our responsibility of engagement in bringing about a repair of our world, then we leave a legacy of inequality and despair. Each of us has a sacred responsibility to do something to erase inequality. Each of us can make a choice to choose one thing in our community that models “chesed”.
These Holidays will be very difficult. Between our domestic issues and division and the situation in Gaza and Israel, we will be faced with very serious challenges. Where is God in all of this? Where are we? What do each of us “stand” for? Prayer will not bring about a world of justice. The holiday liturgy reminds us of this. In the face of injustice, inequality and hate, we need to act. Where do each of us “stand”? What kind of world do we wish to leave to our children and grandchildren? What role model do we choose to be? That is the call of this portion. How shall each of us answer?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Much of the commentary on Ki Tavo focuses on the blessings and curses — what will happen if the Israelites follow the mitzvot, and what will happen if they do not. Moses repeatedly warns the people of severe punishment should they break their covenant with God. But our lives already contain enough severity. So, today, let’s take note of two other themes in this portion: listening and joy. Together, they offer a path to deeper peace and greater fulfillment.

In this week’s parsha, Moshe declares: Hasket u-shema Yisrael — “Be silent and listen, Israel. You have now become the people of the Lord your God” (Deut. 27:9). Note: silence comes before listening. To really hear, we must quiet our own noise. Only in that stillness can we recognize God’s presence and hear one another with clarity. No wonder the root sh-m-a — to listen — appears nearly one hundred times in Devarim. For Moses, listening is not a small virtue; it is the foundation of covenantal life.

Listening, however, has become increasingly difficult in our world. Post-Covid, many of us remain in silos, engaging mostly with those who think as we do. Technology demands our constant attention, pulling us away from the people and experiences right before us. Aging often shrinks our circles of connection. The result can be isolation. And yet isolation is precisely what the Torah warns against. To live meaningfully, we must resist the temptation of distraction and separateness and instead cultivate the discipline of listening.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks put it beautifully: “Listening opens us to God, our fellow humans, and the beauties of nature. Faith itself is the ability to hear the music beneath the noise.” Listening is not passive. It is an act of faith, requiring focus, humility, and openness. And when we practice it — when we truly listen — we discover something surprising: joy.

Ki Tavo itself makes this connection explicit. It teaches that curses will come “because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and gladness of heart, out of the abundance of all things” (Deut. 28:47). The Torah here insists that joy is not an optional extra. It is at the core of religious life. Joy does not erase hardship or deny pain. Instead, it allows us to recognize the blessings that exist in this moment: the gift of life, the presence of community, the beauty of creation. Joy comes when we practice gratitude, when we notice what is good even amid uncertainty. To live with joy is to refuse to let fear or loss define us.

When we bring these two themes together, we see their power. Listening opens us to the voices of others and to the voice of God. Joy gives us the strength to carry hope even when the future is unclear. As Rabbi Sacks wrote: “A people that can know insecurity and still feel joy is one that can never be defeated, for its spirit can never be broken nor its hope destroyed.”

The blessings and curses of Ki Tavo remind us that the covenant is serious, but its heart is not fear — it is relationship. By cultivating the practice of listening, and by embracing the discipline of joy, we shape lives of meaning. We build communities sustained not by severity, but by gratitude, connection, and hope.

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Ki Tetze is another fascinating portion, one in which we see the outlines of a social order rooted in affiliation and adherence to God’s words. Now there are several verses that will raise the ire of many a Torah study student this week. There are several classic examples of ethical action and inaction that may challenge much of our modern morality. Among the verses that, to me, are of great importance are the verses from 22:1-3. The context is that if one sees someone’s ox or sheep that has gone missing, you cannot ignore it. Indeed, the charge in 22.2 is that you “shall give it back/return it to him” (v’ha’shavotah lo). Indeed, the next verse undescores this when it reminds us again that we are not allowed to ignore this charge (lo toochal l’hit’ah’leim)

Now these verses have been used as a key proof text by Maimonides to allow for the practice of medicine. If one is sick, one has lost heath and thus the interpretation goes that it is incumbent for that health to be returned by the doctor. But we can expand what has been lost in many different ways. We are living now in the midst of a moment in time where much has been lost. SO much of what we had taken for granted has been lost, from the casual and normal personal interactions, to communal gatherings to more formal types of interactions. So, the question, from our portion, is how do we restore that which has been lost?

We all know the health guidelines and hopefully we follow them, for to not follow them is also a violation of Jewish ethics that holds the preservation and sanctity of human life as a high ideal. The isolation has also caused us to lose a sense of our common good. We have lost a sense of civility and respect. I think many of our generation watch in sadness the daily polarization of our society, the silo-type activities that are so pervasive. How did we lose the basic sense of humanity and respect for others? The portion also speaks to the respect due to the stranger, because, as are constantly reminded, we “were strangers in Egypt”. (25:17ff). We have lost in so many ways the basic ability to speak to and with each other. We have lost a sense of commonality and shared humanity on a shared planet. Our task is to find a way to restore this to our community. To ignore these realities is to further drive wedges between us all, and in that, society and each of us becomes lost.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion is a curious one. It will discuss some interesting issues such as the role of the King (compare the passages in II Samuel when the idea is raised there) and the Cities of Refuge. But for many discussions this Shabbat, there will be a focus on the famous phrase of “tzedek tzedek tirdof”: justice, justice shall you pursue”(16:20)
Now this opens the door to discussions on what justice is or may be and if there is ever a definitive definition. However, I want to focus on a different approach. It is a look into a sense of the text that reflects the fact that we have entered the month of Elul and, in doing so, we have begun turning our souls to the themes of the High Holidays.
To that extent,I would invite you to consider looking at the 16:20 phrase as a question of how you perceive justice for yourself. In his “Learning Each Week”, Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) comments on the beginning of this passage and the fact that the Hebrew uses the singular “l’cha” in the opening verse “You shall appoint magistrates and officials”
The comment interprets this to mean that each of us is called “to develop a “judge” and an “enforcing officer” within himself. Every person has the obligation to sit in judgement on his own actions” (p.407) We, of course, will meet this challenge throughout the Holidays.
How meaningful for this time of year! How can we do this? What is it inside our self that guards our actions? Is it what we call conscience? Is it the voices of parents or teachers? Is it the ethics of Torah and tradition? And, is it always fixed? Is there a truth that is eternal or is our judgement of our own self contextual and relative to the times we live in and the circumstances in which we find ourselves? We are called on to pursue justice, but what does that mean for us at this stage of our life? Is our “justice” now the same as it was when we were younger?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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“If you’ve locked your phone in a drawer, hidden the newspaper down the sofa or unplugged the radio, I wouldn’t blame you. Just glimpsing or half-hearing the headlines can be enough to plunge you into a sinkhole of gloom”. So writes Joanathan Freedland in the August 15 edition of the Guardian Weekly. (p.46). I cannot tell you how many people I have spoken to this summer who readily admit that they have “cut down” on the amount of news they now seek to digest on a daily basis. For some reason, reading this opinion piece related to this week’s Torah portion. We begin with the word “re’eh” which is translated as “see”. In the classic style of Deuteronomy, we read the If…then formula of “if you follow God’s commandments then blessings will follow and if you do not, then curses will accrue. Instead of reminding the Israelites to “hear” or “listen” to the words, this week we are told to “see”. The Etz Haim commentary on this reminds us that the portion reminds us that people learn differently, some learn by listening, some by seeing. “Those Israelites who were not persuaded by hearing God’s commandments at Siani, or by hearing Moses’ exhortations, are asked to see the difference that following God’s ways can make in one’s life”.
Well, many now have grown tired of hearing and listening and seeing so much of current events that are restructuring not only the world as we knew it but also our own Jewish community. It has become too much for many and, as our community prepares to enter Elul and the drama of the High Holidays, part of us may seek some sort of refuge. Freedland notes that “the need to look away, and to get away is compelling, precisely because of the turmoil all around” In his essay, Freedland cites his escape into a huge cricket match between England and Pakistan that was spread over twenty-five days. He also took note of some other “diversions” that helped him focus on the power and majesty of individual human beings who were performing at the top of their game. It was as if seeing these events allowed Freedland to remember that there is beauty and meaning in the world.
We have spoken to many people who, in expressing their news burn-out condition sought refuge in the peace and beauty of nature. They reported that after seeing so much carnage, despair and hurt, it was therapeutic to see the ocean, or the mountains, or listen to or see a concert. It was a reminder that sanity, order and beauty still can exist. Perhaps that can be a lesson from this week’s portion. Maybe each of us needs to find that part of our self that will greet the power and beauty and order of nature. Maybe it is in the strength of our cire relationships, people who care about us and for whom we care. Maybe in these encounters we will be able to “see” what is truly meaningful and important in life. Freedland concludes his essay with this reminder to have the strength to “see” that which is beyond us: “For it’s when we feel ourselves plunged into the abyss, when our despair at our fellow human beings pulls strongest, that we most need to look upward-and glimpse the stars”
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This portion presents us with some interesting and maybe disturbing verses. Moses is recounting the journey of the Israelites and reminds them that it was because of what God did for them that they triumphed. He reminds them of what they must do as they cross into the land that had been “promised” to them. Some of the verses describing the conquest will, I have no doubt, raise parallels in some people’s minds to current headlines. Perhaps the most famous chapter is number eight as it contains a passage from the Birkat Ha Mazon (blessing after a meal) as well as the famous passage that “man does not live by bread alone”. (8:3)
I was thinking about this passage while recently recording some of our Seekers of Meaning podcasts as some of the subjects that arose in the recordings had to do with issues that went beyond the material aspects of life. We are at the stage in our lives when we begin to examine where we are in life’s journey, what is meant, what it could mean going forward, and what our legacy may be. These are spiritual issues, issues of meaning that are at the heart of our human condition. For years we may have focused on acquiring material security, the “bread” of life: career, family, possessions etc. Yet, now, as we get older and the reality of our own mortality becomes more present, there is, I hope, shift in focus.
If we allow ourselves the gift of contemplation, we can begin to embrace a value that has been identified by scores of commentators to this portion. That value is one of gratitude. The Hebrew is Ha Karat Ha Tov, and I suggest that, as we age, we also focus more on this idea of gratitude. We do not live by “bread” alone! We can exist by just bread. But we” live” by so many other aspects of life: community, family, friends, meaningful work and relationships. These give us the texture of life, and our tradition reminds us to be grateful for these gifts. Gratitude goes beyond the material. Gratitude is and can be a very spiritual component of life and that is why so many prayers speak to it.
In a few weeks we shall enter the High Holiday period. This year will again bring us face to face with realities that challenge us. Yet, part of our spiritual work during these holidays can be to take time to be thankful for the blessings we do have.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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How many of us have been in a situation where we have pleaded to just have one more moment, one more time with someone or something, even though we know it cannot be. In reading the opening of this week’s portion, I was reminded of the times in my career when a congregant (and often myself) has been in that situation. The “if only” portion is so very real for so many.
Coincidently, this is also Shabbat Nachamu, the Sabbath of Comfort. It is the first after Tisha B’Av, and ushers in a series of Sabbatot that have as a motif comfort. They lead us into Elul which comforts us to the New Year.
I find that these ideas do speak to each other as so often when we have thought “if only” I had more time, or one more chance to do something or be with someone, then I would be comforted.
So let me suggest that one of the benefits of studying this portion may be to ask ourselves how we find comfort in moments of crises or despair or questioning? Often, we will find comfort in the support of others, such as a community of friends. The “shiva” is a means of having the faith community provide that sense of comfort and support. This is external to our own soul. How do you add I, go into our souls to find peace, and comfort? The tradition reminds us that the source of that internal sense of comfort is faith in God.
Does this work for you and, of course, we ask what that word means to each of us. So many of us now are seeking a sense of comfort from the events of the world and especially, in the Jewish community, the war in Gaza. This portion contains famous texts that have often been taught as sources of comfort. The “Sh’ma” and the “V’ahavta” are meant to bring a sense of comfort to al of us in so many moments in life. So, do you use these or other texts to bring you that sense of comfort? How do you bring comfort to your soul?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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The Israelites are paused on the doorstep of the Promised Land. Moses, exhausted from years of leadership, rises to give three “sermons”, recounting the Exodus and Wilderness experience. Take note of the transformation of Moses who, if you remember, tried to reject God’s call in Exodus as being of limited speech. These sermons form the content of the final book of Torah, Deuteronomy. These sermons, in essence, form a type of “life-review” Deuteronomy contains many of the most famous passages of text, many of which have found their way into our liturgy, such as “sh’ma” and “v’ahavtah”. Classic Biblical scholarship dates the book to the 7th century BCE and sees it as a blueprint for the religious reformation of King Josiah. The book was, according to the book of 2Kings, discovered in the basement of the Temple. (2Kings 22.8)
This year, this portion arrives on the brink of Tisha B’Av, a fast day commemorating the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem. As some of you know, significant additional tragedies have been added to the litany of woe, from medieval pogroms to the Holocaust to now, October 7. Traditionally, the Book of Lamentations is read. This will be a challenging Tisha B’Av, as it will be measured against the on-going tragedy of the Gaza war. The Torah portion raises some challenging issues that should produce pointed discussions of this portion. There is a small discussion of the two tribes who decide not to cross into the land. What meaning can you give to that decision? The Israelites are tasked to conquer the land and in 3:22, they are reminded not to fear the people they will war with, for God “will battle for you.” This, of course, is a motif of the Torah, that God will be with the Israelites in battle (and there were so many) and, thus, the Israelites will prevail.
I hope you raise this idea of faith that God will provide at your Torah study. The Israelites were commanded not to fear for God was on their side. How often have we seen this statement. How often has it been translated into political beliefs, as if some god somewhere, was choosing up sides. What does faith mean now? Must faith always be defined by crises, conflict (internal and external) and, all too often, war? When does faith become faith in one’s ability to avoid conflict, to really see the Buberian “Thou” in others? When does faith mean to work for a human and humane society?
There is a wonderful Midrash on this portion that I urge you to consider. The opening of the portion is usually translated “these are the words”. The first word of the portion is “eleh”. The gematria of this word adds up to 36, the number of righteous people in the world. Do we have faith that the words coming from so many leaders are words that speak of righteousness? What do you have faith in? What are the words that guide you? Are they words of confrontation or kindness.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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We come now to the end of the Book of Numbers. The double portion for this week returns us to war with the Midianites and the aftermath, which again presents, to us, some serious ethical issues.
However, I want to call your attention to the very beginning of the portion for it may shed light on an issue that many families face today, and, perhaps, the text can be used as a way of examining this issue. I am referring to the concept of keeping a promise that we make to a loved one, often a parent, as illness emerges. In 30:2 we read “If a man makes a vow to God or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips”. Right now, somewhere, families may be gathering as one’s life is ending and loved one’s see the advanced directive instructions written by that loved on. What happens when an adult child decides to not carry out the wishes of that dying person? Do we have a responsibility to follow these promises, no matter what? Given the advances and challenges created by medical technology and the variances in family dynamics, this scenario is not unusual. Do we, as the adult child, have a responsibility to follow the wishes that were made in sound mind, even if we may disagree? This is one of the reasons that these discussions are so needed, not only by the individual, but in concert with the entire family, for if all agree, is this not a vow?
The Torah and Talmud discussions around this issue focus on the words of “honor” and “respect”. One can easily take the Talmudic discussion of these words (Kiddushin 31b and32a) to value the idea of honoring and respecting the wishes of a loved one, even in those instances when you, as an adult, may disagree. These can be trying and painful moments, yet they also can be ones in which we, as the adult child, can take a sense of the sacred in that we honored and respected the wishes of someone we love and care for. The challenges of medical technology and the frail veil between life and death have become an all too often reality for many families. Our tradition is rich I n texts and insights that take into consideration the wide variety of contexts that may arise as we examine each case on its own merits. There are often competing values at stake, and all of this makes it even more important and meaningful for people to become aware of the richness of the tradition and how it relates to the contexts that are presented.
Shabbat shalom. Chazak Chazak V’Nitchazek
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Try and imagine what it was like for Moses. The Israelites are close to completing their trek. One can only imagine the physical and mental and spiritual toll that Moses has endured. He knows he is not going to be permitted to enter that “promised land”. But in this week’s portion (Numbers 27:12-14) we read God telling Moses to go up on the heights that overlook the land: “When you have seen it, you too shall be gathered to your kin”. God then reminds Moses that he “disobeyed” God’s commandment. Imagine what Moses must have felt. He gazes upon the goal of the Exodus and knows that no matter what, he cannot go. The portion immediately follows up with the selection of Joshua as leader, so in a few verses Moses gets to “see” the land, is reminded of his error and “ordains” his successor. These few verses are often overlooked by the high drama that is contained in the portion. There is the plague which follows Pinchas’s murder of Zimri and Cozbi and the powerful tale of the daughters of Zelophechad, and another detailed overview of the calendar. No doubt in your weekly Torah study, these stories will become a focus, yet I could not help but think of Moses.
This scene of Moses is not just a few verses in this larger story. It really sheds a light on what so many of us are experiencing. Growing older is a series of major transitions. If we are granted the gift of years, we will experience so many changes, both physical and spiritual. The spiritual changes are often subtle and emerge quietly, sometimes within a moment when we come to realize the reality of our mortality and that now, that future that is often discussed, has a finite limit for us. We cannot go where our children and grandchildren will go, as much as we may wish to, we come to understand that we cannot. Thus, a message that we may draw from these few verses in Numbers 27 has to do with the issue of legacy. The question becomes what of us do wish those we care for to take into their future!
This idea of legacy we can see within the prayer service. The first paragraph of the Amidah prayer speaks to the God of the Patriarchs and, in liberal settings, the Matriarchs. It is a reminder that generations come and go, that we are part of ours, that we inherit what those who came before us created and that how we choose to live, and act will help determine what we leave for those who come after us. This, of course, speaks to the concept of memory which, as you know, is so fundamental to Jewish thought and practice. How we wish to be remembered does impact how we live these years, and we have a fear that at some time, we will not even be remembered. There was a very human thought on this memory-legacy duality in a recent op-ed piece in the New York Times. The author, Roger Rosenblatt, wrote of the impact of the death of three of his closest friends and how they were remembered. His conclusion spoke of things like kindness, pleasure in work and helping others. His conclusion was that immortality was found in a legacy of love. . One can only imagine what was going through the mind of Moses as he stood on those heights looking at the land, he knew he would never experience. He could look but not go. Did he find comfort in having led the Israelites to the edge of that land that God had promised, did he know that his legacy was that he helped forge a nation? What shall your legacy be?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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We meet this week one of the more interesting passages of Torah. Balak sees the story of Bilaam, a noted prophet of his time, who is called on by Balak, the King of Moab, to come and curse the Israelites who had encamped by his land and were “too numerous” for Balak. In a curious and fantastic story Bilaam is confronted by a “messenger” from God and a talking donkey and eventually blesses the Israelites with the famous “Mah tovu ohelecha” phrase (how beautiful are their tents) which is included in our prayerbooks. (Numbers 24:5)
The confrontation between Bilaam and Balak is engineered, in a way, by God and, one may argue, is a test of God’s influence on the prophet to prove God’s authority. Bilaam speaks God’s words, the Israelites are blessed. Then the portion turns in another darker direction with the story of Israelites men and Moabite women and another punishment exacted by God upon those who deviated from tribal exclusivity. Indeed, there are many issues in this complex portion besides the classic blessing. In Bilaam’s discussion of the Israelites he speaks that the Israelites are a “people apart” (23:10) a phrase that should spark serious conversation at Torah study this week.
So we see again a portion that speaks to blessing and, as we see in the final passages, curses and punishment. (see 25:1-9) There is this tension that reflects life itself. How can we make sense of this? How can we see a message in this for us as we navigate our aging in an increasingly complex world where our very identity as Jews seems to be in crises? The answer may be not in the Torah but is this week’s HafTorah passage.
The prophet Micah is assigned to this week’s text. He rails against corruption and reminds the people of the challenges of Balak and Bilaam. He reminds the people that it is not material issues or vain sacrifices that is demanded in life but a spiritual power. In Micah 6:8 we read that what is asked of each of us, “To do justice, love kindness and walk with modesty with God”. In this world of tension and challenge what does tradition ask us to do? Live a life embraced by justice, kindness and a sense of modesty and humility. In this, we shall be blessed!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This week’s portion presents us with a myriad of challenges. What is this Red Heifer business anyway? We have a host of commentaries on this obscure ritual, some of which reflect a belief that this particular beast will be a precursor of the Messiah Indeed, the Messianic tradition within Judaism is a rich one and some of it emerges from this portion.
We also see the deaths of Miriam and Aaron and the distinct differences in how they are mentioned in the text. We also have another story that, in Torah terms, has lasting significance. As the Israelites, as is their custom, complain about a lack of water, we see the story of Moses and the rock and the water. (Numbers 20:1-13.) We read that Moses strikes the rock twice, and learns that this disobeys the command from God to “order the rock to yield its water”. The punishment to Moses is that he is prohibited from leading “this congregation into the land that I have given them”.
So many difficulties with this portion! One however I want to ask you to consider, for I think many of us have lived it. How have we responded to events that did not go as we expected? How have we reacted when the universe tells us that the answer to what we hoped for is a simple “no”. How often have we been in situations where we havethought that “if only I could go back and do it again…..!”
One can only imagine what Moses was thinking and feeling as we examine these passages. Here he is, leading this stiff-necked, often complaining people. In a very short period of time his sister dies, he loses his temper in fulfilling a command for God and then his brother dies. How can he go forward? What were the psycho-spiritual tolls of grief, disappointment, regret, anger, frustration and doubt? How many of us have lived through periods in life when all seems to be filled with such emotions? How have we chosen to respond? Moses gathers himself and continues onward perhaps focusing on the ultimate goal of leading the people? Perhaps he continues because to surrender and give up would be to give in to the negativity. Resilience is a lesson here, a lesson for all of us. How and what did you choose to respond when life dealt those cards that have said: “no”?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Korach! Just the name raises the psycho-spiritual deflector shields of Torah readers. Korach leads a rebellion against Moses and Aaron’s leadership. The claim, a familiar one, is that Moses and Aaron have lost touch with the people, thinking they are better than the common Israelite! (16:1-3). Moses and Aaron respond by accusing the rebels that they are really rebelling against God and thus the confrontation is set in motion. The result, of course, is a foregone conclusion. The Torah God accepts no deviation and the rebels, and their followers are killed. (16:31-35)
There are so many frightening parallels to our world and human behavior in this portion. Was this rebellion a natural result of the fact that, in last week’s portion, the people voted not to listen to Joshua and Caleb? Was Korah and his followers projecting their own sense of inadequacy on the leadership? Indeed, this sense of “mirroring” is discussed in several commentaries. What lesson could tradition be teaching us about conflict resolution; is the use of power always the best avenue, or is a more nuanced response the better path to avoid violence? Was this challenge to authority a matter of seeking truth, or a matter of a group seeking power? (16:9, 10)
In her book on “The Biblical Path to Psychological Maturity”, Vivian Skolnick suggests that Korach’s rebellion “is also a metaphor for the destructive power of envy which affects not only the “have nots” but the privileged as well.” (p.187). That idea caught my attention this week and I began to think about the challenge of envy vs. gratitude and where and how that has played out in our lives, especially as we have aged. How many of us have looked back now and seen those moments in life when we were envious of another person or their status or possessions? I wonder, knowing what we know now, if we have learned how destructive that emotion can be and maybe has been for some of us. Did that envy drive us to bad decisions? Did it cost us economic, spiritual and/or psychological damage? Were we able to challenge that envy into a positive emotion that resulted in blessing? Is envy always a negative?
I ask you, as your study this portion this week, to consider the role of envy in our lives. What role has it played? Have there been times when our own soul and moral compass was lost in the pursuit of what someone else had or were we able to use that envy as a positive motivation for our own liberation?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Moving is hard. Moving the Israelites, well, even harder. Just ask Moses. This week’s portion details some of the challenges and frustrations of Moses and even includes his own brother and sister complaining (chapter 12). Interesting also is the fact that as Moses despairs as to his role, he again seeks the council of “seventy elders”.
I want to look at the beginning of Numbers 11. A usual translation of the beginning words has that “The people took to complaining bitterly before God”. The Hebrew word “c’mit’on’ninim” is rendered at complaining. Now in his “Living Each Week”, Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) makes the assertion that this can be translated as “But the people were as if in mourning”. Now Twerski goes off in another direction, but when reading this it struck me as relevant to what many of us may be feeling now. We are living through times that many of us never considered. Jews are being killed in the streets of Washington, burned at a mall in Boulder, Marines are patrolling the streets of Los Angeles and Israel’s war with Gaza/Hamas is creating untold challenges for our community. Do we mourn for this? How, as many have asked, did we get here? Do many of us “mourn” for all that we seemed to have lost?
On Monday the 9th we co-facilitated a monthly webinar for our generation on issues that are impacting us as we grow older. The current situation was a main topic of conversation. For ninety minutes a rather diverse conversation took place, and, in the end a theme did arise. That theme was hope! What a profoundly Jewish idea, for even in moments of great despair, Jews hope. This really is the messianic message of our tradition, we never lose hope, hope that someday things will be better. So, let me suggest that as we all try to make some sense of the upside-down world in which we live, that we not forget our tradition’s foundational belief in hope. Hope can be translated into action, as many have and will do.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This has been a challenging few days. Between the murders in Washington, DC and the fire throwing horror in Boulder, CO, so many of our community have been left with feelings that we never thought we would feel. These feelings of unrest, fear and angst were present in every class and conversation in these last few days. Indeed, we will focus on these feelings at the next Both Sides Now webinar set for Monday the 9th (info on jewishsacredaging.com and our Facebook page). SO this Shabbat we come to Nasso, a portion that is famous for the discussion on the Nazarite as well as the troublesome ritual found in chapter 5 which deals with a woman suspected of adultery.
The portion ends, however, in chapter 6 with the famous “priestly benediction”, that three line blessing asking for God’s protection, guidance and the bestowing upon us of the blessing of peace. It is a challenge to find that sense of “shalom” now. How can this speak to us? Perhaps it is a reminder to seek a sense of inner peace when all around us seems so broken and fragmented. Maybe a way to unpacking this blessing now is to focus on the idea of blessing. This focus may remind us of the passage in Pirke Avot that asks us to remember that we are not required to save the entire world, just our little part of it.
Debbie Friedman (z’l) sung about this in her “Lechi Lach” song when she sings that we can “be a blessing”. What can that mean in this world which seems so devoid of blessing? I suggest that this Shabbat we take some time to reflect on what it would mean if each of us dedicated our lives to “be” a blessing. What would that mean? How would we or could we re-examine how we live so as to model that ideal of blessing? Maybe, as some do, we can try and focus on doing one thing every day that brings blessing to someone or something else. This may sound superficial or somewhat naive, but think about it. We may not be able to combat antisemitism or being peace to Gaza, but if we dedicate ourselves to being and livign as a blessing as we interact with others, maybe we can, over time, bring about a greater sense of peace; peace within the framework of our community and relationships, and peace within our own soul.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We meet the Israelites this Shabbat at a very important moment. Moses and Aaron have been given their instructions, and it is time for the real march to the Promised Land to begin. The Book of Numbers is a chronicle, in many ways, of the beginnings of this trek. But first, as we read at the very beginning of the portion, we need to find out who is going, thus, a census. After all, the Wilderness is a dangerous place and enemies lurk, so best to find out who would be able to be called on to defend the group. Yet, before we begin, a decision is needed on how to march. Do we proceed as a mass of people unorganized, or with some sense of order? So, we come to chapter two.
This chapter outlines, in detail, the structure of how the Israelites were to be organized in camp and in their march. We read at the very opening: “God spoke to Moses and Aaron saying The Israelites shall camp each with his standard under the banners of their ancestral house; they shall camp around the Tent of Meeting at a distance”. (1:1,2) On the surface this seems like a simple direction. However, let me suggest that, in a way, these verses and the chapter can teach us something about life as we grow older. Leadership understood that without some sense of order and organization, there would be a very real chance of chaos. So, acting on God’s instructions, Moses and Aaron set out to assign each tribe their own section. That is how they would go forward, each in their own section, yet part of the larger group. We meet again this traditional understanding that in our own individuality there is uniqueness, but as Jews, we are also part of that larger whole. As one commentator put it: “The Torah’s unique description of the ordered encampments teaches us that while each of us is unique, we acquire and express our unique abilities precisely when we function as parts of a larger order.” (Rabbi Avi Fertig in “The Musar Torah Commentary” p.216)
This reflects the “midah” in Musar called “seder”, or order. Yes, we know that word from Passover and the “seder” which is the “order” of the service. This portion is telling us that to maintain a life of focus, we need order and the realization of that, let me suggest, comes with age. Now, notice that the encampments, according to their tribes, are to have, as the center of the camp, the Tent of Meeting. Another clear message for us perhaps! In our uniqueness, as we live as part of the larger Jewish community, we are asked to keep Torah as our center, our moral compass, so to speak. The Israelites are asked, as they are about to begin their journey, to keep the sacred at their center. So too with us, as we begin every day, a new part of our life’s journey, this portion is reminding us that a life focused on Torah and order can bring meaning and fulfillment.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we again meet a double portion as we conclude Leviticus. These two portions are filled with challenges as the encompass a wide range of social, economic, ritual laws that take us from promise to warning. Perhaps the most famous verse is that of Leviticus 25:10, the so-called Liberty Bell passage that speaks of the Jubilee year that we are to proclaim “d’ror” throughout the land. Is this freedom? Not as we may understand it. This is a concept of release, derived from the Sumerian “d’ruru” and, according to the Plaut commentary means in the Leviticus context a “release of freemen who had been enslaved, sometimes the restoration of real property to its original owners, sometimes a cancellation of a debt-or combination of these” (p.943)
As the portions draw to a close, we come to an interesting series of verses in 27. The verse that begins this chapter speak to the idea of valuations of people. The context of the verses reflects vows made to God and the list in the chapter notes the value (in currency) attributed to people according to age. The Etz Hayim commentary notes that these passages were reflective of a system designed to provide the financial resources for the Temple and each person was “valued” according to age and gender. As people dedicated to God and to the service of the God, we were charged with supporting the Temple and this chapter outlines the “sliding scale”.
However, there is a deeper approach to these verses because aspects of our tradition also ask the question of how one can “value” a human life. This is a question that comes up more and more as we age. Implicit in some of these discussions is the question of life’s “quality”. Likewise, as we grow older, we face the challenge of how society “values” us as we age. There is even a disturbing passage in Talmud that discusses this “valuation” of elders and even notes a gender bias to women (Aruchin 19a). The point is that from these verses in Leviticus 27, we can be prompted to ask as to how we value our own self. We know we live in an ageist society. We know that for many elders, the retreat from involvement in the world is a very real issue. Do we continue to see our “value” in terms of how others see us, or do we, at this stage of life, understand that we have eternal value in our own life and the fact that we live and have lived? How do you value your life? What in your life do YOU value?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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It is always interesting, and in a way, amazing, how Torah “speaks” to us. The blessing for Torah study includes that Hebrew word “la’asok” which is often translated as “speak”. Torah speaks to us in a variety of ways sometimes soothing and at times in ways that remind us of our obligations to others. This portion is mainly about priestly purity and another repetition of the calendar cycle. However, as instructions for Shavuot conclude, we read a very interesting and, in a way, timely verse.
In 23:22 we read the following instruction. “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I am Adonai your God.” In a Midrash on this concept, we are told that “when one shares one’s bounty with the poor, it is as if it were offered on God’s alter”. In this way, says Midrash, the act of caring for the poor is an act that symbolizes the offerings to God made in the ancient Temple. How can this little verse “speak” to us now?
Let me suggest that this concept of leaving the corner of the field for the poor and the stranger reflects a basic Jewish belief that the society is obligated to care for and provide for those who are in need. If you do an overview of much of Jewish texts on this area of concern, you come away with a sense that the society must provide necessities for people who lack them. The linkage to today is obvious for this week we have seen the opening of discussions on legislation that, according to many, will have a direct impact on the poor and the stranger. We have written on texts from other portions that have been used as proof texts for health care issues so to see texts that have been seen as a basis for food security should come as no surprise.
That is why this little verse is so relevant now. It is a reminder that we are living through a time of major food insecurity. Most people reading this are not farmers. But each of us can model the ethics of this verse in our own area by becoming acquainted with local food banks, which are seeing a huge increase in demand. So let me hope that as you contemplate and study this portion you may be motivated to become a regular partner with a local food bank. A monthly donation to these food banks will fulfill the commandment of this verse to allow the poor and the stranger to find sustenance.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This year we read on this Shabbat a double portion, Acharei Mot/K’doshim. There is enough in these portions for a semester of issues. There are many texts that are used as proof texts for a wide variety of issues. Leviticus 18 focuses on sexual practices and Leviticus 19 on what is called the “Holiness Code” and contains proof texts for medicine, (19:16), respect for elders (19:32), the “golden rule” (19:18) and care for the stranger in our midst (19:33). SO many issues to discuss. Once again Torah speaks to our world.
There is a fascinating ritual that begins the reading that I hope you can focus on in your Shabbat studies. At the very beginning of the reading (Leviticus 16) we have this curious ritual of expiation involving two goats, one to be sacrificed to God and the other to be sent to “Azazel”. How it is decided which of the two goats is to be sacrificed to God and which to be sent away? Aaron is to draw lots (16:6ff). This is an elaborate ritual for expiation of sins, first for Aaron, his household, the Shrine and the whole congregation of Isarel. The second goat has an additional role. “Aaron shall lay both hands on the head of the goat and confess over it all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites, whatever their sins, putting them on the head of the goat; and it shall be sent off into the wilderness with a designated man. Thus, shall the goat carry with on it all their iniquities to an inaccessible region, and the goat shall be set free in the wilderness.” (Lev. 16, 21,22) This is the sacrifice to Azazel!
There are many interpretations of this ritual. It should remind you of the liturgy of Yom Kippur, as we stand and speak the Confessional, and indeed, some of the Yom Kippur liturgy is from this chapter. Later interpretations have this goat not set free, but sent over a cliff to perish. That second goat, the goat that is sent off for Azazel, becomes in our language and idiom, the scapegoat!
Azazel is shrouded in mystery. Many feel it is a reference to a god and a reference again to the commandment not to worship other gods. Nachmanides sees this as symbolic of evil. This is a ritual where we seek to create a means by which the sins of the people are forgiven, and the people are cleansed. The scapegoat is how a community can be forgiven and transfer or lay off their sins to some other object. We rid ourselves of the evil and transfer it to something or someone else!
Let me suggest that this is more than just a mysterious ancient ritual edited and refined into a Day of Atonement which carries with it similar theological meaning. Let me suggest that this ritual has significant meaning for us as we live in a world where scapegoating is an ever-present reality. How often do we see attempts by people to see in others faults, behaviors, fears and thus attempts to rid these fears by removing those people? It is sometimes easier to pass off responsibility by deflecting it on others. Who are the scapegoats of today’s world? Who and what is being sacrificed, and for what?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Oh, what a challenge this double portion provides! When a Bar or Bat Mitzvah student finds out that this is their portion there is always that moment of surprise, drama and concern. After all, what can that thirteen-year-old do with a portion that focuses on skin eruptions! But these readings have been a source of challenge and, in many ways, insight for centuries. As usual, the portion will “speak” to us today.
The Hebrew word “tza’ra’at”, wrongly translated as leprosy, refers to a series of skin diseases. One of the classic interpretations of this concept has been to relate this to the traditional idea of “la’shon ha’ra” or gossip. No doubt, those of your who will attend Torah study this Shabbat will examine some of the commentaries on this concept, as words can inflict great harms and literally, kill. In this age of social media and cyber-bullying we see examples on a regular basis.
But the readings also can point to another interpretation, one that seems to be equally as relevant, and perhaps a companion to the idea of evil speech. It is this idea that there are things that can infect not only a person, or a building as is outlined in the second reading “M’tzorah”, but even a society. “Tza’ra’at” can be seen as a metaphor for the decay of “moral behavior”. As its’ impact grows,a person, a community, a society can be infected and destroyed. This is decay from within. I was recently facilitating a class on Pirke Avot at one of our Federation sponsored apartments for elders. We began discussing a section on the role of Torah. The group quickly moved to the understanding that, for a society to function, there had to be a set of moral and ethical values that formed the foundation of that society. When those values began to be compromised, altered, politicized, chaos results.
This week’s readings, I suggest, can shine a light on what happens when a society loses its’ moral compass. People get hurt. Civility is cast aside and there is the clear and present danger that fear of “the other” is a primary motivation for decisions. History is filled with empires, cultures and movements that decayed from the inside. If our tradition is one that values the search for the holy (see next week’s readings) then regardless of one’s political affiliation, the treatment of all people as representations of the sacred must be a common thread. Without this foundation, we walk step by step into chaos and oblivion. Once again, the choice is ours!
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Once again, the Torah reading for this Shabbat reflects the world in which we are living. This portion comes in between some important dates in the Jewish calendar. Thursday the 24th was Holocaust Remembrance Day and next week we observe Israel’s Yom Ha Zikaron just prior to Independence Day. So, the Torah bridge this week looks at proper rules of worship and food and sacrifice, and what happens when we, as in the case of Nadav and Avihu, make bad choices. The commentaries of this act have puzzled us for centuries, as has their father Aaron’s response when learning of their death: silence.
But I want to call you attention a verse that comes right after the scene of the so-called “alien fire”. Moses reminds Aaron that when entering the Tent of Meeting one must not drink any wine or intoxicant, “lest you die” and one must “distinguish between the sacred and the profane, between the pure and impure” and must teach the Israelites these laws. (10:10). Now there is an interesting commentary on the death of Aaron’s sons who were killed offering this strange fire. According to a passage in Talmud the bodies of the two sons were not destroyed, rather it was their souls. By making the wrong choices, the souls of these two were destroyed. (see Etz Hayim. P.633) Thus, we are also reminded of the importance of teaching right and wrong, what is sacred and what may be profane to our children and grandchildren.
Rarely in our lifetime, have the implications of the choices we and others must make have had more powerful implications. The society is challenging us with potential choices that will impact our health care. Increasingly families are having to make choices about their own health care and end of life care. The wrong choices can have severe consequences on every level and these choices are, often, family systems choices. We are being called to examine what in our life is “sacred” and what is “profane”. Like the commentary, making the wrong choice can led to a kind of death of the soul. So, this Shabbat, as you examine the text, take a moment to examine the text of your life: what do you consider sacred, what profane? What choices shall each of us make to avoid the death of our soul?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Many of you who may attend a service or life cycle event at a synagogue may be familiar with the Alvin Fine meditation “Birth Is A Beginning and Death A Destination”. The meditation speaks about our life journey being made in stages, from challenges to victories, a “sacred pilgrimage”. This image of the “sacred pilgrimage” rang true this past week as we found ourselves in the journey we call Passover. Indeed, the Wilderness experience, launched by the Exodus, remains a central metaphor for each of us.
The symbolism of the journey becomes more meaningful as we ourselves grow older. The seder is a powerful symbol of our journey as it reminds us of the questions we have and will ask, the various types of individuals we meet in our own journey as well as the need to tell our own story, in our own way. One thing does become more relevant in this stage of life, and I was reminded of this while sitting at seder this past weekend. As the evening progressed, I kept watching my two grandchildren, ages 13 and 16, and I could not help but wonder as to how many more opportunities I will have to share a seder with them. This Is not to be depressing but is to be mindful of the realities of life and the limits of longevity and of an issue that has become overwhelming: time.
In just about every teaching session we do, this issue emerges as a key item for contemplation and discussion. It is the one thing that, try as we may, we cannot control. Indeed, as we have written here and teach regularly, THE spiritual question for our generation is, I believe, “what do we do with the time we have left, knowing that we cannot control the time we have left”. As we get older, many of us come to realize that we need to make the time we have left “count” for something. Indeed, as Passover ends, the tradition reminds us to “count” the Omer each day and as many of you know, we are urged to “number our days”. Time becomes more precious and thus the choices we make on how we use that time become more meaningful.
This weekend, as the festival ends, we will observe again the tradition of Yizkor. Passover is one of the three major “Pilgrimage festivals, and as such, we observe the memorial moment as Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot close. This idea of memory is very much tied, I suggest, to the issue of time. For so many, as we gather at a seder, we cannot help but recall so many who sat at the table in years past, but who now join us only in spirit. How often we recall them when a dish is served or a reading or story once told by them, is now done by someone new. We remember and are reminded in subtle ways, that this will also be us someday. So, the festival and the rituals and themes that surround them call on us to be mindful of the choices we will be called on to make as we continue our own journey,
We are asked to make choices that sanctify life. (Deuteronomy 30:19) What choices can we make to allow for our “sacred pilgrimage”? Life continues to be the greatest gift that we are given and, as we become more aware of time’s passage and the fact that we cannot control that passage, let us know we continue to have the ability to make choices that enhance life and that help us in our own journey. Passover is often interpreted to be about our own journey from that which enslaves us to our choices to be free from that which binds us, restricts us and holds us back. We are always given the opportunity to choose the sacred and let us not fear to do so before life’s parade passes by.
Shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Editor’s Note: This Guest D’var Torah for the Pesach Festival comes from frequent JSA contributor, Chaplain Barry Pitegoff, BCC.

The movie awards recognize the actor / actress in the best supporting role. Perhaps we need to do that more often in our stories from scripture. For Purim, we think of Esther. Vashti, the “other woman” in Megllat Esther, is in a supporting role, maybe even more so than Mordecai, as Vashti’s stance at the opening of the story enables Esther to even consider possibly becoming Queen.

Pesach (Passover), quickly approaching, clearly places Moses center stage, at least among the humans. The story of Passover, unlike Purim, clearly has G-d in the story. For Moses to have even gotten into the story, we need to look at the supporting role of Miriam, Moses’ sister, older than him by only five years. Moses first comes into the story of Pesach because Miriam, only five years old at that time, sees the basket coming down the river with Moses inside, consistent with the decree to slay the new Hebrew sons, intercepted the basket, and handed it over for safekeeping. Let us consider this a major supporting role for Miriam in the story.

Pesach celebrates our freedom from slavery in Egypt and our freedom from Egypt altogether. I have been pondering how to simplify this story to explain it to Adult Ed classes at houses of worship of different faiths.

One Pesach concept is the progressively more challenging ten plagues G-d inflicted on Egypt, announced by Moses’ messages to Pharaoh. Instead of changing Pharaoh, the plagues “hardened his heart.” Rabbi Sharon Brous, in her contemporary book, The Amen Effect, expounds on why Darkness, the ninth and next-to-last plague, could be considered worse than boils and frogs and hail, preceding plagues. Excerpting from Rabbi Brous, “The Bible describes the darkness so thick that ‘no person could see another, or even rise from their places’ …. More than physical discomfort, it brought spiritual anguish. …. ‘The deepest darkness,’ wrote one nineteenth-century Polish rabbi, ‘is when one cannot even see his neighbor, and therefore can’t join him in his suffering and pain. Once a person no longer feels his pain, it renders him completely impotent.’ When we are unable to support each other in our suffering, our lives are stripped of meaning. Surely, that is among the most devastating of plagues: the terror of total disconnection.”

Pharaoh finally gives in to Moses’ nagging of “Let my people go” with the threat of the tenth plague, the death of every firstborn son in Egypt, both human and animal, except, of course, the homes of the Jews/Hebrews because the Angel of Death noticed the blood of a lamb smeared on its doorposts. Did this plague actually begin or was the threat of it strong enough to persuade Pharaoh? One theory is that Pharaoh realized that he, too, was a first-born son. He, too, would not be spared.

Pharaoh’s words were not, “You’re free. Leave.” Rather, his words were “Go and worship your G-d.” The Egyptians, with multiple gods, had a problem getting their hands around the concept that there could be only one G-d.

The Hebrews/Israelites, as they were known in the story, left in such haste that the bread still being baked had to be taken with them, becoming the origin of matzah. What else was taken in haste? Stay tuned.

They head towards The Promised Land but, oops, there is a river in the way, and Pharaoh had a change of heart and sent warriors, chariots, and horses after them. As is taught in Exodus, “When the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled, Pharaoh and his courtiers had a change of heart about the people and said, ‘What is this we have done, releasing Israel from our service?’ He ordered his chariot and took his force with him …. and he gave chase to the Israelites ….” Pharaoh, himself, was one of the warriors in pursuit. [Imagine the anger fueling him.]

Adonai says to Moses, “Hold your arm over the sea, that the waters may come back upon the Egyptians and upon their chariots and upon their riders …. But Adonai hurled the Egyptians into the sea.” [The narrative does not say what happened to Pharaoh. [A question for Midrash.]

The Israelites are on dry land, the sea has closed behind them, and there is the urge to rejoice in song. Although some crossing the dry river were in families, the men were with the men only, walking ahead of the women, two separate groups. Moses led the men. Moses rang out the song deigned for rejoicing, stanza by stanza. Each time the men heard a stanza, then men repeated it in song. Behind the men were the women. Miriam, Moses’ sister, was standing at the head of the women. The men heard each stanza and responded in song. Behind was Miriam, close enough to hear the men, was a true pioneer and did the same.

Miriam repeated the song, stanza by stanza, just like the men. The women sang the song, stanza by stanza, just like the men. This was a first, a breakthrough. The women assumed equality and the men accepted it.

The women contributed more than the men in a special way. The men had only their voices. The women had their voices and timbrels. It is not clear exactly what these timbrels were. Often they are translated as drums. In more modern times, they are translated as tambourines. A modern tambourine has the metal clacking chimes all around its circumference, but it also has the equivalent of a drum skin across the top. In effect, the timbrels may have been a combination or both a drum and a tambourine.

There was still one problem with this song of rejoicing. Moses began the song exactly as Adonai had dictated it a few sentences earlier, beginning with, “I will sing to Adonai, for He has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver he has hauled into the sea. ….” That line is in the Torah. We are sort of stuck with it, but we do not have to emphasize it.

When the Midrash for this portion was developed, the consensus was that HaShem criticized those chanting the beginning of this song, saying, “Those are My people drowning also. You cannot rejoice about My people drowning also.”

How to handle this dilemma, that the exact words are in Torah, but should not be embraced? Like many popular songs, the introduction leads to the refrain. The refrain is what we remember. Take “The Shadow of Your Smile,” the Academy Award winning song of 1966. Before we get to “The Shadow of Your Smile,” we hear, if the vocalist so chose, “One day we walked along the sand. One day in early spring, You held a piper in your hand, To mend its broken wing. Now I’ll remember many a day, And many a lonely mile. The echo of a piper’s song. The shadow of a smile.”

The midrash teaches us to de-emphasize the song’s lyrics rejoicing that the chariots and riders were tossed into the sea. The liturgists developing the modern siddur or prayer book, emphasized two major teachings from the lyrics of the Song at the Sea. One is Line 11, the Mi Chamocha. The Reform Gates of Prayer introduced the Mi Chamocha as, “When Israel saw Your might displayed in Egypt, they put their faith in You and in Moses Your servant. Now let all be free, and let them sing as Israel did at the shore of freedom’s sea: “Mi Chamocha … Who is like You, Eternal One, among the gods that are worshipped? ….” Here the middle of the song becomes its topic sentence.

Then, the liturgists developing the siddur took the last line of the song and made it the ultimate, the song’s climax: Adonai yimloch l’olam va’ed, “Adonai will reign for ever and ever!”

How do we know this is the last one of the Song at the Sea? The Torah does not have italic or quotes. The editor of the Chabad translation of the Song at the Sea placed a closed quote punctuation after the Mi Chamocha.

The Song at the Sea has become known as Miriam’s Song. Debbie Friedman (Z”L), the great modern liturgist-as-songwriter, gifted us with her version of “Miriam’s Song.” Its lyrics include:

“And the women dancing with their timbrels

Followed Miriam as she sang her song

Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted

Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long

….

And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand

And all the women followed her just as she had planned

And Miriam raised her voice in song

She sang with praise and might

We’ve just lived through a miracle

We’re going to dance tonight”

Miriam’s crucial role in this story is at least twofold then. One is to rescue baby Moses in a basket going down the river, or there might not have been a Moses and a story of Exodus. Two, is to empower the women to be equal, singing with the men, but also adding instruments.

Professor of Midrash at Hebrew Union College, Norman Cohen, commented on this in 2001. If the bread had to be yanked from its cooking to make the exodus, how did the women know about the instruments? Professor Cohen’s article is titled, “Miriam’s Song: A Modern Midrashic Reading.”

Professor Cohen expounds: “… where did they get the musical instruments in the desert? One can almost picture that, as the people hurriedly gathered their possessions and fled Egypt in the middle of the night, Miriam called back to the the women, saying: ‘Hannah, Sarah, don’t forget the drums … we’ll need them to celebrate our freedom.’ As a matter of fact, the Midrash, in interpreting this passage, emphasizes that the righteous are always prepared for the moment of redemption. Perhaps it is this sense of personal preparation which is the lesson that Miriam can teach us.”

For saving Moses’ life and for empowering women to sing in celebration, plus adding the timbrels, there are two reasons to consider Miriam for Best Supporting Role in the Exodus Story.

This year, for me, another line in the Haggadah has become very prominent. In Pirkei Avot 5:22, attributed to Ben Bag-Bag, we are taught, “Turn it over and turn it over, for everything it in it.” Torah does not change, but we are different every time we return to it. Just a few sheets of parchment before the Exodus story, we are reading about Joseph. One of Jewish history’s heroes and role models, Joseph saved Egypt from famine and rose to Viceroy. How did we get from there to pleading for release from slavery?

In the middle of the Seder, the leader is tasked with explaining the story of the Exodus from Egypt so that everyone present understands it. Here, the Haggadah text begins with, “There arose in Egypt a Pharaoh who did not know Joseph.” It is worth repeating. “There arose in Egypt a Pharaoh who did not know Joseph.” Indeed, know your roots. Know your history. Know from where you came. Leaders carry a torch that others carried before them.

May you have a zissen Pesach.

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We read now the detailed laws regarding sacrifices. With this, we begin the Book of Leviticus, which is like a manual for priestly behavior. We read of the meal offering, the offering of well-being as well as the sin and guilt offerings. We are introduced to the institution of animal sacrifice the means of worship, carried out through the Levitical priesthood. This stood through the first century of the Common Era when, after the destruction by the Romans of the Temple, prayer took the place of sacrifices. As the tradition teaches us, the word for sacrifice, korbon, is from the three letter Hebrew root that carries with it the meaning of “to draw near, or close”. Thus, when we offered these sacrifices, we drew nearer to God.
This word is very meaningful for us. I have no doubt that many of you in your Torah study this Shabbat or other sessions, will discuss the impact of what it means to sacrifice in our modern age. Indeed, many do it, with acts of kindness, giving of time, restructuring lives around a cause. Many of you give of your time and life experience to benefit others. But I want to look at another aspect of the word.
As we have written, I believe that at this stage in our lives, the relationships we have become ever more precious. I believe in what I refer to as a “theology of relationships”, which teaches the power and importance of relationships in our life. In those relationships we “draw near” or “draw close” to others. These are the relationships with family and, more often, friends. These are the relationships that we turn to in our moments of crises, concern, doubt as well as joy and blessing.
I believe they are as close as we can get to Buber’s I-Thou concept. These are relationships that are based on trust, faith, honesty and, in many ways, love. They are the relationships that, when together, may not even need words and often, given our age, they are relationships decades old.
In Torah, these sacrifices are to allow us to draw close to God. Often rabbis have noted that prayer is a means of doing that. So many of us may not pray or practice the rituals of a service, but, have known times when, in a life situation, we feel drawn to the sacred. This is our search for a relationship with something greater than our own self. As with our close human relationships, we seek meaning and a sense that our life counts for something with someone.
Passover is drawing close. It is a time when we will gather and often, I hope, remember those who are present in spirit of not in body. This is also a reminder of the preciousness of these relationships as well as their fragility. So, let this Shabbat and this portion serve as a reminder of our need to draw near to others and to celebrate those meaningful relationships that help give our lives meaning, definition and texture.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Pekude brings us to the end of the Book of Exodus. The “Mishkan” is completed. Aaron and his sons are anointed, and we see the institutionalizing of the hereditary priesthood. Moses blessed the work and the completion, and, for a brief moment, all seems right.
There have been many comments and thoughts regarding the building and completion of the “Mishkan”. At a recent Torah Study I facilitated, we began to look at the “Mishkan” as symbolic of our own bodies. There is an interesting commentary from Zohar, the basic text of Jewish Mysticism that looks at the myriad of things that went into the creation of the “Mishkan” and the myriad of items that go into the making of our bodies. “Now just as the human body possesses many organs, higher and lower, some being internal and not visible, while others are external and visible, and yet they all form one body, so also was it with the Tabernacle: all its individual parts were formed in the pattern of that above, and when they all were fitted together “the Tabernacle was one”. (Plaut 689)
I suggest that this commentary speaks to us as we grow older. So many of us have become so much more aware of our bodies and the changes that may be taking place, both with the organs we cannot see as well as the external ones. It is easy to lament and fall prey to some despair. Yet, to lock on to the Zohar text, we are all “one”, unique unto our own self. It is a message that Judaism gives us that no matter what that calendar age may be, or what circumstance we, and our bodies, may find ourselves, we are still sacred representations. Our bodies will age, God Willing, and our call is to take care of them, honor them and keep them from as much harm as possible.
The Zohar text alludes to the sense that there is a sense of mystery in all of this. Certainly, when we contemplate the workings of our bodies, there is also present a sense of mystery, even the miraculous. This may be why, in the morning service, we have prayers that give thanks that these miracles continue to work. So, this Shabbat, take a few moments to give thanks for the miracles that are taking place every second within our bodies and to celebrate the mystery that is life.
As is our tradition, as we close a book of Torah: “chazak, chazak, v’nit’chazek”
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion is all about construction of the Mishkan. Moses calls together the people to give instructions on construction and we again meet Betzalel, the head of the project. We also are reminded of the importance of Shabbat and the call again for people to bring gifts (donations) from everyone whose heart is so moved.
Yet, there is a challenging interpretation that has frightening contemporary implications within the beginning of the portion. Moses calls on all the people, maybe to bring them together as a community after the Golden Calf incident. Indeed, in the Etz Hayim commentary, we read that the “Second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred of one Jew for another” (p. 552). This interpretation drawn from Talmud Yoma, reflects a traditional concept known as “Sin’at Chinnam”. This is baseless hatred of another.
Once again, our tradition speaks to us. The sin of “sin’at chinnam” is rampant. Think about the society in which we are living, where the concept of “the other” is being accepted more and more. The “other” is made to stand out, ridiculed and excluded. Just as this sin, according to tradition, helped destroy the Second Temple world, so we can see how the divisiveness in our society can destroy our own way of life. How often has history shown that decay from within contains the seeds that destroy a culture. We Jews must be on guard against this sin, for we have been the victims of it for centuries.
The theme of this portion is the construction of the Mishkan. That Mishkan is often seen as a metaphor for our own life, our own community etc. Maybe this portion is asking what materials we bring to the creation of our life and world? Is it a building build on “Ahavat Chinnam” (love) or have we allowed hate, distrust and fear to eat away at the very foundations?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Ki Tissa
It is somewhat overwhelming this portion this week. There is so much to digest, from the beginning of the portion’s call for census through the drama of the Golden Calf and on to the second tablets and the text that has been mistranslated on the radiance of Moses’s face being horns. (34:30). Moses complains to God and yet lists the famous attributes (34:6) and earlier wishes to “see” God but, while placed in the cleft in the rock, sees only God’s back. (33:21). All of this makes for a powerful portion.
But, as we often do in this space, there is one text, rarely discussed, that completes the reading. “Whenever Moses went in before God to speak with Him, he would leave the veil off until he came out, and when he came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, the Israelites would see how radiant the skin of Moses’ face was. Moses would then put the veil back over his face until he went in to speak with God. According to the commentary in the Plaut Torah (p. 662), the word for veil in the text, “masveh”, appears only in this story? Moses veils when he speaks with the Israelites, unveils, when speaking with God. How very strange?
I began to think about this image and how it may relate to us. We sometimes refer to people who experience a change in life, as glowing. Moses is radiant after his encounter with God and the second set of tablets. This is after the Golden Calf. Has he reached a new level of relationship with God? Has Moses, as many of us do, undergone some sort of transformation? Is this experience so powerful that Moses has the courage, in these one-on-one moments, to speak his truth? Does the veil, when speaking with the Israelites, symbolize some sort of barrier? How many of us, in the privacy of our own hearts and souls, speak one way; when we face others, often in social situations, our speech is guarded as we worry more about what people may say or think? Are we afraid to speak about our innermost thoughts, fears, dreams and desires? Is our public speech guarded for fear of repercussions? We face some of this now with the explosion of antisemitism and the need to publicly protest and rebuke the offenders. But yet some remain silent. Why?
For others, this symbol of the veil may go deeper. Could it be a veil of the soul? We still experience in our post Covid world, an explosion of isolation. How many people have just retreated into their own self, cutting themselves off from the world, either by choice or due to circumstances beyond their control? Our tradition speaks to the hope that we live our life engaged with the world and in relationship with others. As we grow older this becomes more meaningful, yet too many, for a variety of reasons, retreat from this. It is as if they find more comfort behind a symbolic veil that covers their own soul.
Does this veil represent inhibitions to speak our own truth or engage with the world? What do we hide? With so much happening now, much of which represents a shift from traditional Jewish values, do we hesitate to speak out? So much is contained within this small word.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is a quieter portion. The theme of this week’s portion revolves around detailed instructions for the Temple/Mishkan/Tent of Meeting. We greet the everlasting light, the dress for the high priest and more. We see Aaron and his sons take their entrance. What we do not see, for the only time, is Moses! Moses is not mentioned in this portion. In a comment attributed to the Gaon of Vilna, we read that the reason for this was that “God knew that the day of Moses’s future death would be Adar 7, the time when “Tetzaveh” is usually read at services” (Plaut. p.624)
As I was looking at this I could not help but think of the symbolism for us. What could that be? One of the challenges of our growing older in our society is the reality that for many, we slowly become invisible. The USA, as an ageist country, still put a huge emphasis on the cult of youth.
A question that popped into my mind was how much do we, consciously or subconsciously, buy into this feeling? The more we age, as we have mentioned several times, there is this gnawing fear of being forgotten. That is why the idea of legacy is so important in our prayers and culture.
How can we work against this fear of the inevitability of invisibility? What so many now teach and exhibit is that so much of this begins in our own attitude. We can fight the stereotypes about our aging by how we choose to live. Remember, Judaism teaches us that we never stop growing and have always the possibility or invitation to learn, grow, engage and celebrate. A recent article in the Washington Post by Steven Petrow called this to mind. He quotes Becca Levy of Yale, who wrote that: “The way we think about aging affects how we age”. In other words, we can choose to keep our life and hopes and dreams alive every day. We do not have to accept what others project on us about being an elder. We are the major player in our own daily portion.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This week Torah brings us to the instructions for the Mishkan. The extreme details of the portion beg the question of when this text was written and for what purpose. A temporary structure in the Wilderness or the building in Jerusalem. This portion also contains the famous verse: “They shall make a sanctuary for Me that I may dwell in it/in or with them” (25:8) Lots of ways analyze this.
But, I want to return to the very beginning of this portion and he word that gives the portion its’ name: “terumah”. In some translations this word is rendered as “offering”. In others, it is rendered as “gift”. That set me to thinking about this idea of gifts and to ask what have been, in our lives, the greatest gifts that we have been given, and what have been the greatest gifts that we have given to others?
Think back on our own journey. At the moment, a physical gift may have been overwhelming and powerful. Yet, in the clarity of time, many of those material gifts have faded. What have been the real lasting gifts? Have they been material or spiritual? Have they been a “thing” or have they been the impact of another human being, a moment shared that helped change a life or shape a relationship?
Likewise, what gifts that we have given to other have really made the kind of impact that, at the time, may have seemed small? Has it been the people we have touched in some way? The gift of time to friends and the gift of wisdom and love o children or grandchildren? These are the gifts the reward for which can never be measured, for these gifts are carried through time on the wings of memory. So often the greatest gift we give is our presence, not our presents.
So, I invite you this Shabbat, to reflect on the idea what gifts we have been given and what gifts we have given. How have those gifts changed and impacted our lives and how, in many ways, they still continue to be impactful?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Mishpatim
This portion marks a major transition in our text. Last week, we reviewed the great Revelation of the Ten Commandments. Now, the Torah settles into a detailed description of laws being given to the Israelites. The portion will end with their affirmation of “na’aseh v’nishmah”. Some translate this as “we will do and obey” while other translations have it as “we will faithfully do”. No matter, this is the agreement between the Israelites and God to accept the Commandments and all that they entail. The challenge,, of course, is that this contract is still waiting to be fulfilled! There is great meaning in the recitation of these laws. On a real sense, we witness the attempt to bind together the tribes into a people. How can we create a society? We need rules, laws, a sense of the value of the whole that supersedes the individual. What is good for the greater community needs to take precedence over what each individual wishes to do for themselves. For the Israelites, this social order that is being created rests in the sacred covenant between them and their God. There is, thus, a sense of sacred purpose, a vision of the common good.
The portion contains important texts used by tradition as proof texts for many issues, from monetary compensation for lost property or injury (see 21:22f as Biblical text that opens the discussion on the issue of feticide not equaling homicide, a discussion carried on in Talmud). There are additional laws from slavery to capital punishment and more. This portion really begins a shift from narrative to legal texts. But again, a question that you may wish to raise this week in your synagogue Torah study is around the tension between the rights of the individual versus the needs of the community. While this portion is centuries old, we find ourselves in this country returning to this tension now.
Our generation of elders has benefitted greatly from the advances in public health. It has allowed us to live longer and live better. Vaccines have saved lives, and research has pushed back boundaries of medical science from which we have all benefited. Some of this now, seems to be up for debate and discussion on both the state and federal levels. In several recent conversations with doctors and researchers, there was a concern that an over-riding emphasis on the rights of the individual over that of the welfare of the community could costs life and lead to greater costs. There are many discussions in the tradition about allocation of scarce resources. The general mood of our tradition, in my opinion, is that the focus is on the greater good for the greater number. In other words, the needs and welfare of the community takes precedence of the individual.
This portion speaks to the need for society, to function, to have a firm foundation of laws and ordinances that support the entire community. Individual beliefs may vary, but the needs and welfare of the community should be the focus. Thus, the laws about caring for the poor, the stranger and those who lack basic needs find a home in this week’s portion. It is our obligation to create a society that supports everyone, providing basic needs regardless of social or economic status. As the debates continue about health care in our country, it may be well to remember the ethical and moral challenges that we study this week. It is a call to listen and do those acts and deeds that benefit all, and it is the responsibility of government to champion those goals.
Shabbat shalom.
Rabbi Richard F Address

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The great revelation! This is the focus so this week’s famous portion. Moses’s father in law provides management advice to Moses as the portion begins. The Israelites encamp in the Wilderness and there we witness the great revelation of Torah. Regardless of your own theological beliefs, this is one of the most dramatic and meaningful stories of Torah. Our tradition teaches us that we were all at Sinai.
In keeping with that belief, that in some way, we all share in that moment, I could not help but think about how we see the divine revealed today? Do we wait for, pray for or hope for some dramatic Hollywood style revelation, or, do we suspend belief in the possibility of any type of divine act or presence? Do we hide from the possibility of an on-going revelation or do we see this belief acted out in some non supernatural ways? How can we, in our fast paced, scientific, privatized world be open to even the possibility that this act of sacred revelation remains a possibility?
In his book on Martin Buber’s thoughts on the weekly portions, Dennis Ross notes that this possibility for sacred interaction is always present in every encounter we have. “Buber”, Ross writes, “brings each of us to that mountainside that every day by teaching that whenever you and I speak as I-Thou, we speak with God, just as Israel did at Sinai”. (“A Year With Martin Buber”. p.73).
Our daily encounters with life, if we are open to it, give us the opportunity to embrace the sacred in life. Those quiet moments reveal the beauty and sacredness of our daily life. We do not need the grand gestures or supernatural moments. Rather, nature and our relationships are always there to reinforce what really is important in life. The secret seems to be that we must be open to seeing the divine in these moments of meaning. In this way, if our hearts and souls are open, we participate every day in Sinai. As one comment noted: “This is the simple direct message of Hasidism. The divine voice has never stopped speaking; Moses has never stopped teaching. Torah is given anew each moment, if only our hearts are ready to receive it”. (“Speaking Torah”. p.202)
May each of us have the courage to open our hearts and souls to the meaning of Sinai every day.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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The drama and sweep of events again catch us this Shabbat. This portion takes us from the very edge liberation through to the first steps of redemption. The Midrash and commentaries explode with interpretations on everything from Pharaoh’s hardened heart, to Nachshon’s leap of faith, to the celebratory dancing following the crossing of the sea that included Miriam’s timbrels. There is so much here. The portion ends with a harsh warning about Amalek, a warning that continues today.
But this week I want to call your attention to the period after the Israelites set out on their journey. They go round and round and, not surprisingly, discontent sets in almost immediately. Moses is tested. Eventually they come to the waters of Marah (Exodus 15) and we read of the fact that they could not drink from the waters “because they were bitter” (15:23)
How can we look at this word “marah”? (yes the same in the Seder)
In a wonderful comment on this, Abraham Twerski (z’l) notes that you can read the “they” (in Hebrew “haim”) as referring not to the waters but to the Israelites. They were bitter! Play with that word a little. Twerski: “In psychiatric practice this is frequently encountered. A person who is depressed may complain that everything he eats has a bitter taste. In these instances the bitterness is not in the food, but in one’s taste perception.” (“Living Each Week” p.141)
There is an adage that says that “attitude is everything”. I think that this Twerski comment means much to us as we grow older. All of us have tasted some bitterness in life. Some carry that bitterness into our times now. Certainly, there is enough bitterness in the world in which we live to account for feelings of unease and depression. I think, however, that this passage can send us a message that despite the bitterness that we may have experience, are experiencing either personally or in the outside world, we can still reach into our souls and reject that bitterness. A challenge from our tradition is to find the good, the hope, the sacred in each day and choice. It may be difficult, but how we choose to react and adapt to that bitterness can shape how we choose to live our life. To give in to life’s bitterness is to reject hope.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard Address

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The tension may be mounting in this week’s portion. Again Moses confronts Pharaoh. God “hardens” the Pharaoh’s heart again. There are the plagues and THE final plague which allows for the deliverance. Much to discuss at your weekly Torah study.
Yet, I want to ask you to look at one small verse from Exodus 10. The Egyptians urge Pharaoh to let this people go as they are “a snare” to us. In a fit of anger (?) Pharaoh says to Moses and Aaron “Go worship your God”! Moses replies that “we will all go, young and old” (10:9). This little verse speaks to us now.
In the Plaut commentary, there is a little Midrash based on this verse that asks the question why is the young mentioned before the old?
“The young needed to go more urgently, for they were endangered by assimilation; the old were more secure in their tradition and their rescue therefore less urgent”. (Plaut p.454)
I was struck this year by this Midrash. It raised questions that much of the Jewish community is dealing with. Curiously, this portion comes the week that we observe the liberation of the Camps and the Holocaust. How much of this do our young understand? Boomers may be the last generation that may have some living connection with the Holocaust generation. Some of our parents and grandparents were survivors. What of our children and grandchildren for whom the story of the Holocaust may be reserved for a chapter in a book or a film? Who shall tell those stories?
This raises the question as well as to how our younger generations view their Judaism. Our Judaism has survived by adapting to new realities. Change is constant. We live in an era of radical transformation in our Jewish world; from the role of the synagogue to the support for Israel. We see generational differences. What shall survive, what shall be lost and who shall continue to tell our story?
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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How to you address God? By what name do you think of? This week’s portion begins with a recitation of names by which God spoke or made known to people. In Exodus 6:2 and 3 we meet two different names, one made known to the Patriarchs and one now to Moses, the ancient “yod, heh, vov, heh”. The name is all important, as are our names. The name carries with it a sense of identity and there are many Midrash citations that speak to the power of the name. That got me considering how many names of God we may use during our lifetime. It reflects that verse from last week’s portion when Moses asks God’s name, and he receives the famous “ehyeh asher ehyeh”. We “know” or “call” God by various names as we grow and experience life. There are numerous commentaries on the names of God in Torah, many focusing on the use of Elohim and the attribute of justice and YHVH with the attribute of mercy. The use of El Shadai in this portion, suggests, according to some commentaries, God as a nurturing God; and some comments refer to the word Shadai as referencing the word “shadayim” or breasts, thus God revealed as a “nurturing mothering God” (Etz Hayim.351 and Women’s Torah Commentary p. 128)
What do you now call God? The study of God’s name is one of the more interesting studies in Judaism. As we are in a Torah portion that deals with the Hebrews in Egypt, we can refer to some scholarship that sees the Jewish God as having roots in the gods of Egypt. Indeed, in his book “The Name”, Mark Sameth discusses these Egyptian roots and posits the idea that God’s name is “dual-gendered”. He discusses the fact that God’s name is never to be spoken, save for one time a year by the High Priest in the Temple, as based on an ancient Egyptian belief that “made pronunciation of a god’s true name, outside the circle of initiated priestly elite, unthinkable”. (p,21).
How we speak of God, the god we worship reflects, it seems, our own belief system. One of the most meaningful prayers in the Gates of Prayer book reminds us that we all will worship something. “That which dominates our imagination, and our thoughts will determine our life and character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we are worshipping, for what we are worshipping we are becoming”. (p. 240). How relevant this phrase is for us today in age of social media and celebrity/sports idolatry! Torah warns us against false prophets and gods. What do we worship? What are the gods we call out to? Do we become that which we worship?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we begin the second book of Torah, Exodus. We go from the personal histories of patriarchs and matriarchs, to the emergence of a people and the basic symbol of Judaism, the Wilderness experience. But first we meet the historical challenge of a new Pharaoh and a new set of rulers that see the Hebrews as too numerous and a threat and so we are introduced to the period of slavery. Out of this emerges the heroic figure of Moses.
This portion sees the birth and “call” of Moses and the famous incident at the burning bush where God’s name is revealed, so to speak, to Moses. We witness the transformation of Moses from his identification as an Egyptian to his identification with the Hebrews. As this story takes place, we can see some ideas that speak to our wold today.
There are commentaries that interpret Exodus 1 and the call to eliminate the Hebrew boy babies in a very different manner. Some see the giving of Egyptian names as a sign of gradual assimilation of the Hebrews. Could the power of Egyptian culture erase the Hebrew traditions? If you start by changing names, could that lead to a gradual decline in affiliation?
There is a very relevant and challenging comment by Rabbi Abraham Twerski in his “Living Each Week” that states: “a gradual erosion of ethics and values may very well begin with what may appear to be an innocent deviation from tradition. Tiny increments of alien enculturation could follow upon another, virtually imperceptibly, until separation from one’s value system is total”. (113).
Our generation may be seeing some of this. There seems to be a generational divide regarding formal affiliation with Judaism. Yet, there is a documented rise in interest in being Jewish, especially post October 7. We face the challenges of transition in this new post October 7 world. Interestingly, as we live through this transition, one thing seems to remain constant, the need for community and the need to be in relationship with like minded people. Community supersedes any theology. The power of community increases as we grow older. Even Moses responds to this call.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Editor’s Note: This week’s D’var Torah is a guest post from Rabbi Susan Elkodsi, a frequent contributor to JewishSacredAging.com.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not a grandparent, but I had grandparents, and so did my children. Yes, there are some kids who call me “Rabbi Grandma,” but that’s not quite the same thing.

Under most circumstances, I would have glossed over Genesis Chapter 48 in this week’s Torah reading, simply mentioning that it’s from this text — when Jacob blesses his grandsons–that we get the traditional Erev Shabbat blessing for our sons, Y’simcha Elo-him k’ephraim v’khi menashe, “May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe.” (Gen. 48:20)

This week, I’m participating in an intersession class at the Academy for Jewish Religion called, “Who Are Our Adult Learners?” with Susan Werk. On our first day, we looked at this chapter, and how it might relate to and resound with Baby Boomers and older Jewish adults.

In fact, when we take a deeper dive into the 23 verses that make up this chapter, we find so many things that might parallel the grandparent-parent-grandchild relationships in today’s world. The chapter begins with Joseph being told that his father is sick, and he takes his sons, Menashe and Ephraim, to visit.

Jacob sits up and says, “El Shaddai, who appeared to me at Luz in the land of Canaan, blessed me and said to me, ‘I will make you fertile and numerous, making of you a community of peoples; and I will assign this land to your offspring to come for an everlasting possession.’ Now, your two sons, who were born to you in the land of Egypt before I came to you in Egypt, shall be mine; Ephraim and Manasseh shall be mine no less than Reuben and Simeon, but progeny born to you after them shall be yours.” (Gen. 48:3-6).

Does this mean Jacob is adopting Joseph’s sons, or claiming them as his own? Is this a commentary on Joseph’s parenting ability, or the concern that they’re not being properly raised in Jacob’s faith? It’s often said that “grandparents and grandchildren have a common enemy.”

Jacob and Joseph were reunited about 17 years earlier, during the second year of the famine. The Torah doesn’t tell us if Joseph’s sons were included in that reunion, or if now, all these years later, Jacob is meeting them for the first time. Since we have no record of Joseph visiting his family in Goshen, we might surmise that Joseph didn’t have much interaction with — or much in common with — his family of origin. And another question, was Jacob even aware before now that Joseph had sons?

While I was blessed to raise my children in the town where I grew up, where my parents z”l also lived, that may be the exception in today’s world, rather than the rule. Many grandparents don’t get the joy (or the oy) of seeing their grandchildren on a regular basis, being able to attend their school and extracurricular events, and getting together at the drop of a hat. When families are hours or even continents away, and visits are infrequent and perhaps come with additional challenges, it’s a whole different dynamic. Video chats and phone calls are great, but they’re not the same thing as being in the room together.

What about Jacob’s other grandchildren? After all, he has 11 other sons, and we know they had children, because the torah includes the genealogy. In this scenario, however, we have no idea where they are, perhaps because Jacob still favors Joseph, and by extension, his sons. What happens when grandparents play favorites, or they can’t give equal attention to their grandchildren? My niece and nephews, who grew up an hour and a half away in New Jersey, certainly didn’t have the same relationship as my children did, even though they were no less loved.

The age and wellbeing of the grandparent also comes into play. In verses 9-10, Jacob asks, mi ayleh? “Who are these?”

The Torah tells us that Jacob couldn’t see (clearly) and could only distinguish shadows (Steinsaltz). When Jacob replies that they’re the sons God has given him, Jacob asks that they be brought closer to him, and he kisses and embraces them. Those of us of a certain age might remember our cheeks being pinched by our grandparent-aged relatives or being forced or persuaded to give hugs and kisses when we might not have wanted to.

Today, our children are — rightly so — being taught that no one is allowed to touch them without their permission, which can leave an affectionate grandparent feeling rejected. We don’t know the ages of Joseph’s sons; they could be preteens, or, given that Joseph was about 30 when they were born, they could be closer to their 20s. How does Jacob’s behavior sit with the parent in the middle?

Finally, when Jacob blesses the boys, he puts his right hand on the younger one’s head, essentially elevating him to the status of “first born.” Has he learned nothing from his experiences where the younger was elevated over the older? Joseph tries to correct his father, but Jacob makes it clear that he knows which one is which. Should he have challenged his father in front of his sons? What sort of example does that set for the sons?

The Torah refers to the 12 Tribes of Israel, Joseph’s sons, but if you look at the list, you’ll notice that there’s no tribe of Joseph, there are the two half-tribes of Ephraim and Menashe. Jacob’s bequest skipped Joseph and went to his sons. Depending on how old we the grandparents are, and how old their children are, it’s not unusual for the elders’ inheritance to be bequeathed directly to the grandchildren, especially when their parents are financially secure.

Jacob gave the blessing of progeny to his grandsons along with his blessing. He’s fully aware which son is which and perhaps has a prophetic gift that Joseph doesn’t have. By blessing and acknowledging both sons, Jacob’s legacy is passed on to the first set of brothers in the Torah who don’t openly quarrel.

May we merit to be a blessing to our grandchildren, our “honorary” grandchildren and future generations.

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This is the portion of the great reveal. Joseph, after toying with his brothers, reveals himself. In one of the most dramatic scenes in Torah, he sends everyone from the royal chamber and reveals his true identity to his brothers. His first question, one of the most profound and heartfelt moments, is simply “is my father alive”? (45:3). There is also a second reveal, the one where the brothers, back in Canaan, confront Jacob and reveal that Joseph is alive and well. (45:26) Jacob’s “heart was numb”, as if the news caused Jacob to faint. Twin revelations that helped change the course of Biblical history.
But go back to the very opening of the portion and the word “vayigash”. It is often translated as “drew near”. The word can carry a variety of intentions, according to tradition. But this context is revealing as it shows, as Midrash tells us, the growth of Judah. Indeed, this scene is the confrontation between Judah and Joseph: again siblings in conflict!
Judah pleads, confronts, draws close to Joseph and pleads the case that he must bring Benjamin back to Canaan or else his father, Jacob, will die. He thus offers himself as a servant in the boy’s place. This scene leads to the revelation of Joseph. Judah emerges as a key figure here, his ability to confront Jospeh, who is “equal to Pharaoh”, changes the balance of the entire family relationship. It is as if in doing so, Judah passes the tests that Jospeh placed before the brothers. Again, by “drawing near” to Jospeh, things changed.
A Chassidic interpretation of this scene states that Judah actually drew near to his true self. This “maturation” of one’s soul is a theme we run into often, especially in Genesis. As one commentator noted: “Judah’s honest speaking and heartfelt tone break Joseph’s cold veneer and set the foundation for restored family relationships”
Sometimes, as many of us have experienced, it is necessary, for peace, to draw near/close to one’s self and soul in order for a greater good. The tradition often calls this “shalom bayit” or peace within the house. This is often the realization that, for a greater good, I may have to sublimate my feelings so that we all can move forward and not be immobilized or bound by past hurts. It is a sign of growth and maturity.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Ah, Joseph. What a fascinating study he is! This week we get a glimpse into the variety of Joseph’s life, from prisoner to head of the Egyptian economy and the first reunion with his brothers. Again we will meet the themes of dream interpretation, family dynamics and deception and power. There are interesting challenges in the portion as well as we see two names for God, Elohim and El Shadai, as well as the reference to Joseph (and later his brothers) as “ivri” or Hebrew (41:12 and 43:32). There is so much to consider in this portion. For example, the assimilation of Joseph into Egyptian society and the question of how deep was this assimilation? Likewise the scene with his brothers who come to Egypt for food as a result of the famine and bow down to Joseph, this fulfilling Joseph’s prophecy.
One other, among many, theme is outlined in the portion. One that I suggest has direct relationship to us and our families. Joseph is elevated to power because he correctly predicted the famine and created the plan that allowed Egypt to avert the disaster. He planned for the eventuality of famine. The idea of planning for an eventual future speaks to us as so many of us in our generation now face the need to plan for our own mortality.
How may of us have had or begun to plan for our own future death? I know that this is not a popular subject, but, taking a lesson from Joseph, the ability to make our wishes known while we still are able to do so is a gift we can give our loved ones. Advance planning around end of life issues, medical directives, health care proxy forms and powers of attorney all are vital acts, modern mitzvoth, if your wish, that can bring comfort to our family.
This is a season where many families will come together to celebrate holidays. Consider it a time to begin these conversations with family members but first, have that conversation with your self. What are your wishes? Make them known. Let the people you care for and who acre for you know them. It is a blessing to be able to do this.

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Do you recall Algebra 1? Do you recall those fateful words “solve for X?” I am still wondering what that X was or is! It was and is truly the unknown. So, this week’s portion, which contains a host of issues around family dynamics, also may revolve around another single letter, the R!
We meet in this week’s portion the beginning of the Joseph cycle, which is a fascinating study all by itself. We see right in chapter 37 the rivalry between brothers (again that familiar theme), Joseph’s multicolored coat, the power of dreams again another important theme) and the request by Jacob to Joseph to seek out his brothers who were tending flocks. You know the story that the brothers cast Joseph into the pit, Reuben’s desire to not have him killed and the band of Ishmaelites who just happen to come across Joseph in the pit. There are verses here from strands of history blended into one story, but what I wish to point out is that thanks to these Ishmaelites/Midianites, Joseph is spared and transported to Egypt and thus, Biblical history is changed. Let me suggest that the story of Joseph in the pit and him being spared can also be seen as one of those incidents in life when a random act intercedes in what was planned and, and, because of that randomness, life changes. One of the messages of this story us, may very well be that in examining our own life story, how have those random acts of life changed who we were and who we became?
I would like to suggest that we consider the R factor of life, that randomness that intercedes, often when we least expect it. I imagine that many of us, as we look back on our own journey, can point out a moment or person that entered our life, so unexpectedly, and as a result, our life journey took a different direction. Was it random? Or, as some believe, was it really a predetermined act? I believe in that random factor in life and always point to the classic Jewish response of the power and importance of choice. How we choose to respond to these random acts often determines the type of future we have. Or, to paraphrase an old Yiddish expression known to many “Man plans and God laughs”.
What if Reuben was able to save Joseph? What if those nomadic traders had not seen Jospeh? Or later in the portion, what if Judah had not stopped for the disguised Tamar?
What if in 37:15 the man did not stop to ask Joseph “mah t’vakesh?” What if? Our lives are filled with moments unplanned. They bring good and not so good news and choices. How have you responded? Do you think your response would be or have been different as you have grown older? Once again, Torah presents us with challenges. Choose well!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come to one of the more powerful portions in our Torah cycle. This is the portion where Jacob and Esau meet for the first time after the events of the blessing and birthright. This is the portion in which Jacob wrestles with someone, something or himself, and as a result his name is changed. This is the portion where Jacob and Esau reconcile instead of harming each other. The drama of these verses cannot be overstated, and I have no doubt that those of you who attend Torah study this Shabbat will delve into the psycho-spiritual aspects of this story.
But this week, I wanted to call your attention to a very tragic and challenging story that jumps into the text. That is the story of the daughter of Jacob and Leah, Dinah. (see chapter 34) Jacob and his family have settled nicely by Shechem in Canaan. One day she goes out “to visit the daughters of the land”. Shechem, son of Hamor see her, is attracted to her and lays with her “by force”. He falls in love with her and asks his dad to negotiate a bride price for her with Jacob. They bargain and a deal is struck that Jacob will agree only if Hamor and his people get circumcised. (verses 18-24). It seems that Jacob’s sons, Simeon and Levi, angered at the treatment of their sister, took matters into their own hands and as the Canaanites were recovering, attacked, slaying all (25ff). Jacob’s rebuke to his sons focused on how this would change how people would perceive them “You have brought trouble on me making me odious among the inhabitants of the land”, Simeon and Levi answer this rebuke with a stark statement in 34:31: “Should our sister be treated like a whore?”
This is not one of the stories we teach in religious school. Yet, sadly, it has elements that speak to us today. In a just published commentary on urj.org, Rabbi Dr. Wendy Zierler relates this story of the rape of Dinah to the events of October 7. Other commentaries speak of the fact that when confronted with the reality of what happened to his daughter, Jacob is silent.(34:5,6) Plaut, in his comment (p.229) says that perhaps the killing of Shechem and Hamor could be “justified”, but what about the killing of so many if the innocents of that city? Naomi Rosenblatt, In her Wrestling With Angels”, notes that this story discusses “the limits of retribution and the right of self-defense against a complex political, psychological, and moral background” (p.309). This echoes so much of the debate now around Gaza and the Middle East.
Yet, Rosenblatt goes on to look at a curious and meaningful view on the relationship between Jacob and his sons. In essence, she asks the question of the nature of the relationship between Jacob and his adult children. How much authority does a parent have over their adult children? “Sometimes”, she writes, “we lack the courage to correct our children when we see them stepping out of bounds” (311). Should Jacob have sat down with his sons when the news of what happened to Dinah was known and cautioned them on how they should react? Was no reaction a tacit approval to do as they saw fit?
I another revealing commentary in his book “The Beginning of Wisdom”, Leon Kass notes that at the beginning of 34, Dinah is identified as the “daughter of Leah” and wonders of this may be indicative that Jacob had little relationship with his daughter. Was Jacob’s silence born out of a sense of guilt that he had so little of a relationship with Dinah? Do we sometimes relate differently to our children as they grow and mature?
How do we deal with our own adult children? What borders and boundaries do we now have to respect and what are the consequences if we do not? (34:5,6)
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We begin this week’s portion with one of the most famous of passages, Jacob’s dream (28). Countless commentaries have been written on this passage, the ladder, the dream and the symbolism of both. Dreams will continue to play a role in our story, especially when we meet the Joseph cycle. This is also the story of Jacob, Leah and Rachel and Laban, the duplicity of Laban and the love story of Jacob and Rachel, along with, as we have seen before, sibling rivalry, infertility and family drama. Again, we will meet the motif of moments of transition played out at a well.
But I want to look at a small passage that appears at the beginning of the Jacob-Leah-Rachel drama. In 29:20 we read that Jacob served for seven years for Rachel “and they seemed to him but a few days because of his love for her”. Yes, this is before Laban turns the tables on Jacob. So, Jacob, powered by his love for Rachel, had this first seven years fly by. This got me to thinking about how we, as we age, see time. Remember when we were much younger, maybe in school, and how slowly time seemed to go? I do not know about you, but one of the issues that mystifies me is now, as we get older, how quickly that time seems to move. Maybe it is because we know that we have more years behind us than in front of us. Maybe it is because we yearn to do so much more and know that our own mortality awaits. How many of us have thought, upon seeing our children grow into adults, and our grandchildren grow with every visit: “where has the time gone?”
How often have many of us thought of the “Sunrise Sunset” song from “Fiddler on the Roof?” Or how many times have we listened to the classic song from our youth “Both Sides Now” and finally understood the lyrics? Time, for us now, seems out of control, for it truly is the one thing we cannot control. Thus, as we teach a lot, THE spiritual question for us is “what do we with the time we have left knowing we cannot control the time we have left?”
This little verse is often lost among the larger background of the dream and the interplay between Jacob, Laban and the daughters. But take a moment, if you will, to just think about that concept of time; how quickly it goes when we are engaged in something that feeds our passion and how, as we grow older, the more precious it becomes.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is another amazing, complex and challenging portion, so typical of Genesis. We meet Rebecca and another instance of infertility, but this time her prayer is answered. She becomes pregnant and has a difficult pregnancy eliciting her cry in 25:23 “why do I exist?” Esau and Jacob are born, and the prophecy is that the elder shall serve the younger and with that we begin the hectic story of these two brothers and the role their father and mother played in their development. That family of origin stuff really does count for something. This is the portion if the “stolen” birthright and the blessing.
There is, however, a little story that rarely gets a lot of play as it is usually overshadowed by the Isaac-Rebecca, Esau-Jacob drama. Isaac and Rebecca are forced to leave their land due to another famine. Chapter 26 details this segment of the Isaac story as he, in some ways, seeks to replicate his father’s story. He seeks to re-dig his fathers’ wells (Genesis 26:17-23). He encounters issues with the local population. Eventually Isaac is successful in digging HIS own well.(26:22), names the place Rehoboth and soon after is blessed by God. These few verses can teach us what I think may be a valuable lesson for us.
Remember, in the chronology of Torah, Isaac is still trying to handle the trauma of the Akedah. Yet, he seeks to replicate his father’s work with the wells. It does not work until he digs a new one, his own! Maybe Torah is trying to tell us that living a life trying to replicate others, or living a life that is defined by others, especially a parent, may not be true to who we are. We know people whose life choices have been determined not by what they wish but by what other people desire for them. How many of those people repress their true self and live a life of quiet frustration? Maybe Torah is telling us that as parents we need to remember to “let go” of our desires and dreams of what our children can or should be and embrace who they are as independent people. How many, to channel Gensis 22, have sacrificed our children on the alters of our own dreams and fantasies?
So, this little story in this week’s portion can carry a lot of meaning as we let the text “speak” to us. This text also reminds us that we are never too old to grow into that life we wish to lead. Be strong and do not fear to “dig” your own well, to live your own life.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we meet another fascinating portion. In Genesis 23 we learn immediately of Sarah’s death. The commentaries have a field day with this stark verse. No preamble, no gradual decline just in 23:1 the statement that she dies. Abraham mourns (we have no mention of how long) and then after mourning, arranges to purchase a burial location and buries Sarah in the cave of Machpelah. We then see the gradual transformation, in a way, of Abraham. His first task after the burial site is to find a wife for Isaac. Genesis 24 captures this famous story of Eliezer and Rebecca at the well and the eventual meeting id Rebecca and Isaac (24:62-67) The portion continues with Abraham remarrying, having additional children. In 25 we find the death of Abraham (25:8) and a curious verse in 9 that tells us that both Isaac and Ishmael attend their father’s funeral. Notice that there is no mention of the sons attending Sarah’s funeral.
For many in our generation, we find ourselves attending too many funerals now. Discussions about end-of-life issues, once so strange and seeming far away, are now much closer to our own reality. In an interesting turn of focus, there are a growing number of organizations within the Jewish world that just focus on end-of-life issues. With longevity a reality and medical technology pushing boundaries and with the legalization of Medical Aid in Dying in many places, the issue is getting much more of a spotlight. Discussions that surround the issue include the high cost of caregiving, medical insurance and the stress of being a caregiver. That is why, there is a growing push among the Jewish community to remind families to begin the discussions of end of life wishes sooner, rather than later. Many congregations build in annual educational forums that discuss the Jewish texts approach to the issue and combine it with discussions from elder care lawyers, financial planner etc to highlight the need. The worst time to make decisions is in a crisis.
This portion reminds us that making arrangements for loved ones and ourselves is a necessity in our day and age. Likewise, the necessity of discussing those wishes with family and friends is a priority. We have resources as part of Jewish Sacred Aging® (see in Resources menu bar A Time To Prepare) and there are a growing number of rituals that are and have been created that speak to this stage of life. As part of our work, we even have created a blessing to be said upon signing an advanced medical directive. (look for a copy of this blessing in our Living Longer, Living Better blog on this site)
This portion is, in a way, a Torah portion of responsibility. Abraham takes care of Sara’s burial. He finds a wife for his son. Adult responsibilities, in his time open the door to the responsibilities of being an adult in our times when it comes to our wishes at the end of life. Again, the Torah “speaks” to us in the context of our own lives.
Shabba shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We are met this Shabbat with a wide variety of issues, emotions and tensions. It is in this portion that Abraham argues with God over the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrha. We examine a rather challenging story of Lot and his daughter’s and Lot’s wife. Then there is the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael and finally the epic story in chapter 22 of the so-called “binding of Isaac” or Akedah. The portion begins with a famous story of Abraham, recovering from his circumcision, being visited by three men/angels which forms the proof text for our tradition on the mitzvah of bikkur cholim: visiting the sick.
There is much to unpack in this portion on so many levels. No doubt your Torah study this week will be filled with ideas. Much of the portion has direct meaning for us. Take for example Genesis 18:2 and the repetition of the word used for “see”, va’yar. Think about us. When we are younger, we “see” things in one way, often taking things as they seem. Yet, given the perspective of age and life experience, now we often “see” things differently, perhaps, we hope, with more wisdom.
The intra-familial issues between Hagar, Sarah, Ishmael, Isaac and Abraham are being played out now in so many families. Yet, in reading through the stories again, I was struck by an interpretation on Genesis 22 from the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. (z’l). There are, as many of you know, a myriad of interpretations for this chapter. Sacks, in his “Essays on Ethics” looks at the imagery of Isaac being “bound” and sees in this the call to parents that we cannot continue to hold on to our children as they grow. Seeing our children as adults, as independent human beings is a transition for many of us. It is a need to “let go” and allow these adults to be free and, we hope, enter a new type of relationship with us. As Sacks writes: “What God was doing when He asked Abraham to offer up his son was not requesting a child sacrifice but something quite different. He wanted Abraham to renounce ownership of his son. He wanted to establish as a non-negotiable principle of Jewish law that children are not the property of their parents.”
One of the blessings of parenthood really is being able to “see” our children emerge and grow into different stages of life. Their independence can trigger some powerful feelings in us because as they grow and mature, we become more aware of time’s passage and our own aging. Yet, our tradition sees in those changing relationships the hope and possibility of new ways of being seen. That life cycle that we all are a part of becomes so much more powerful as we grow older and “see” so much in so many ways
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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What a powerful and intense portion we have this week. This is the moment when we begin the particular story of Judaism. Up until this point (Genesis 1-11), we were given the Biblical authors’ description of creation and the stories that previewed the birth of the Jewish story. With Genesis 12, we meet the transition to our story. Avram is called to “go forth”, he is “called” to go to a place he does not know, he is told that his people will be numerous, that God will be with them and that they shall be a “blessing”. Along the way in this portion Avram will sojourn to Egypt due to a famine (a theme that we will see again), have his and Sarai’s name changed (again a theme we shall see again) and formalize a sign of this covenant with God via the ritual of circumcision. As the portion ends, we meet the beginnings of the story of Sarah and Hagar and Ishmael, the issue of infertility (again a theme we shall see again) and set the stage for the familial dramas that will emerge in following weeks.
There are many commentaries on this portion. Abraham, as Avram, receives his call right after his father dies. How many people we know, even some of us, have been caregivers for a long period of time and when that mitzvah ends, we become, in a sense, free to pursue other segments of life. How many people need or use a major life event as a trigger to “go forth” and explore ideas, issues and passions? How many of us, as we grow older, come to realize that time is shorter now and we cannot, or will not put off things we always wished to do.
Note that Abraham, when he receives his call at the beginning of the portion, is 75. (12:4) Regardless of whether you believe these words to be literally true of symbolic, we can take a lesson from this. Judaism reminds us that we are never too old to grow and learn, to hope to explore new ideas and experiences. Indeed, let me suggest that this portion is a portion that speaks to us of a message of transition. When we turn 75, or so, we often come to realize that things are changing, our perspectives, our bodies, our relationships and more. The reality of our own mortality often becomes very present. It is easy to “rest” and gradually to retreat from the world, to exist rather than to live. But I think that a message from the portion is that we are always given the invitation in Judaism to go forward, to explore the future, for that is where we will go. Transitions and change are part of the human condition and become ever more real as we age. I think that this desire for us to see meaning and purpose in these transitions mat be symbolized by the idea of the Covenant. This is a reminder that we are part of something greater than our own self, and that we are being called to “go forward in life and go into our own self, to explore how we can be a blessing to ourselves, our families and the world. As we begin to contemplate our own legacy, we come to understand that our legacy is what we have chosen to do in our life.
This shabbat, ask yourself how we can be that blessing promised in Genesis 12? How do we wish to live in that land we do not know: our own future and what shall be our foundation?
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Editor’s Note: Rabbi Address is on a well-deserved vacation. Our D’var Torah this week comes from Rabbinic Pastor Carl Viniar.

When my children were very young, we were watching The Wizard of Oz on TV. As you may remember, the opening scenes were in black and white (actually, sepia-toned). I said that when I was a boy, we watched the whole movie in black and white, because our tv was a black and white set. One of them asked, quite sincerely, “but could you see in color?”

I recall that conversation whenever we get to this Torah portion. I think about seeing colors and the impact of Noah seeing the rainbow. The rainbow was transformative.

Noah had just gone through a horrible time. All of his friends were dead. He had only his immediate family and a zoo.

The world before the flood was a war zone. Commentators say there was sexual lawlessness, rampant robbery, and the complete disregard for others. That world was now gone.

But for Noah it was the only world he had. He had to start over.

The rainbow was the sign from God that God would not destroy the world again. So, Noah knew he could deal with what God had done in the past and could move into the future without the worry of losing his world again.

His world could go from black and white to color. And he was 600 years old when the flood started.

Who are we to say we are too old to deal with what life throws at us?

Most of us, as we age, deal with difficult change at some point. We lose friends, family members and spouses. Maybe we are forced to move. Or our job ends. Each trauma causes a radical shift in our life, and we have to figure out what to do next.

The first thing Noah did when he had to deal with his radical change was get drunk. But he didn’t have the resources many of us have, like friends, religious community, a support network.

But like Noah, some people do not have those important resources. If you know someone who is out there without community, invite them to join yours. Become their resource, their community.

Noah stepped off that rocking boat and on to dry solid ground. I bet it didn’t feel too solid. It definitely took a while for him to get acclimated.

So, he built an altar and planted vineyards. He got into action after facing disaster. And he lived for another 350 years.

He lived for all those years because he had a purpose (he had to repopulate the earth, that must have kept his mind off the flood), and he stayed active. Every time we see the colors of the rainbow, we should remind ourselves that we are here for a purpose. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks said that if you find something you like to do that needs to be done, you are on purpose. Just stay on the lookout, and really live your 350 years.

One last thought: The world was destroyed in Parashat Noah by a flood which occurred because of the immoral behavior of humankind.

Do we believe that there is a connection of connection between moral behavior and occurrences in the natural world?

Most people I know would say no.

But perhaps our treatment of the planet, and our disregard for the needs of others and of future generations is immoral behavior, sufficient to invite floods.

In this past month Helene and Milton accepted the invitation.

May the rainbow remind us to be on good behavior.

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B’reisheet

In their book, What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Old, Richard Leider and David Shapiro cite this lovely message: “There’s a reason your windshield is bigger than your rear-view mirror; where you’re headed is more important than what you’ve left behind.”

The authors then conclude that “for many people in later life, it’s all about that mirror.” So, this Shabbat we come to the first portion of Torah, B’reisheet and we begin again.

Few portions are quoted more than this one for we have creation’s two stories as well as the challenges presented to us in Chapter 3 and the moral questions of Cain and Abel.

However, this year, in thinking about this portion I wanted to suggest that there is another message here that speaks to each of us as we age. There is a tendency for many to focus on that rear-view mirror, on what was. After all, there is some sense of security and familiarity with where we have come from. The present, and maybe the future seems, at times, daunting.

Just try mastering computer skills, medical portals and A.I.

The crises that meet us all too often involve aspects of loss, and they continue to raise significant questions about where we are in life and so all too often, we are content to rest in what was.

Yet, Judaism teaches us another lesson and that lesson leaps out from the pages of the portion. We honor the past, celebrate often where we have come from, but we are also told from tradition to not fear tomorrow. Let me suggest that a message for us from this portion is that very message of creation. Do not fear to begin again.

The new life stages that we encounter in this era of longevity present us with unique opportunities to chart new phases of life. Yes, the challenges of health and finances impact this idea, however, the message of personal creation, of beginning new stages of life, this invitation is always there for us.

This is often a time of great transition for many of us. We may assume new outward identities due to life changes. Again, we are given the choice to meet those new challenges. Some people retreat and others move forward.

This portion asks us to not to fear to begin again, to create new ways of living that speak to our own hopes and dreams and skills and circumstances.

As we all know, we live now in very challenging times. The levels of anxiety from events at home and abroad make it very easy to only look to the past. But we are all moving, each day, to our own future. None of us know what that future will be.

This Torah portion, I believe, reminds us that Judaism underscores the belief that we are free to create who we wish to be. Let us carry the past with us as a sacred memory, to learn from it, to honor it but not to dwell in it.

We have been given this most precious gift of life and it is good. Our future awaits, as do the portions of Torah that now begin again. Let us try to be like these portions which we read again every week, and, hopefully, create new meaning, for we are not the same as we were.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Everything about Yom Kippur is spirit; everything about Sukkot physical.

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin

On the Sabbath that occurs during the week of Sukkoth, it is traditional to read from the Book of Ecclesiastes, or Kohelet. Kohelet is one of those rich, beautiful, and profound “wisdom books” found in the Ketuvim (Writings) section of the Hebrew Bible. And though many prefer Job, I find Kohelet the wisest of them all.

Were it not for this Sukkoth tradition, most of us would never experience this work in Hebrew. Interestingly, though, many of us know parts of it from the King James English translation. “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!” “There is nothing new under the sun.” And some parts have been made it into well-known songs: “For everything there is a season — a time to live and time to die…”

One of Hemingway’s best novels is named The Sun Also Rises, and the opening of Shakespeare’s 59th Sonnet is nearly a paraphrase: If there be nothing new, but that which is/ Hath been before, how are our brains beguil’d…

As you can tell from just these few excerpts, Ecclesiastes, though poetically beautiful, is also rather gloomy and fatalistic. In fact, if you substitute “futility” for “vanity” — a better translation — it sounds positively depressing. (Other translations that can be derived from the biblical context in which they appear are impermanence, incomprehensibility, absurdity, nothingness, and wind.) On this problem of translation, R. Cover of the Dallas Theological Seminary has this to say:

Kohelet deliberately chose a word (hevel) with a calculated ambiguity; he skillfully employed it in a variety of contexts so that several associated meanings could be communicated without the use of synonyms. . . It must be emphasized that Kohelet nowhere uses hevel pejoratively or with morally negative connotations. For Kohelet hevel is a neutral term expressing brilliantly in its figurative nuances, the limitations of human activity and human wisdom.

In the King James Translation, Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, is some of the best, and the darkest, poetry in English. Consider its introduction:

1:12 I Kohelet was king over Israel in Jerusalem.13. And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven; it is a hard task that God has given to the sons of man to be exercised with. 14. I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.

More than a few scholars have wondered why this book is in the Bible at all, since it appears, on the surface at least, to contradict many of the core beliefs espoused in the Torah. So… Why is it in the Bible? Why do we read it aloud in synagogue? And why during Sukkoth?

About EcclesiastesThere is a straightforward answer to the question of why Ecclesiastes, a mitzvah-free rumination on the impermanence and futility of life is in the Bible: No one is sure.

Although it enters the canon during the Hellenistic period1, scholars think it is much older and may have had a large constituency among groups that compiled the text. Rabbi Dov Lipman wrote, “Kohelet isn’t really a book with Jewish content; however, because it states that it was written by King Solomon, the sages included it in the Ketuvim, the Writings, division of the Tanach.”

Its message, in effect, is to enjoy life while you can. Understand that “stuff” happens; the good are not always rewarded and the bad are not always punished. There is nothing a person can do to escape death (and there is no mention of afterlife); the rich and poor are headed to the same end. Everything of beauty and value perishes. And there is no greater pleasure in life than the ephemeral happiness of a good meal with the woman you love:

Ecclesiastes 9:4For to him who is joined to all the living there is hope; for a living dog is better than a dead lion. 5. For the living know that they shall die; but the dead know nothing, nor do they have a reward anymore; for the memory of them is forgotten.

But Ecclesiastes is not a purely nihilistic essay. Several times The Preacher speaks in praise of Wisdom over folly: for example

Ecclesiastes 9:17The words of the wise heard in quietness are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools.

Even though he said earlier

Ecclesiastes 2:13Then I saw that wisdom excels folly, as far as light excels darkness. 14. The wise man’s eyes are in his head; but the fool walks in darkness; and I myself perceived also that one event happens to them all. 15. Then said I in my heart, As it happens to the fool, so it happens even to me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity.

But the question remains. Why is wisdom better than folly? How is one to endure a life of perpetual loss and inevitable futility? And what does Judaism have to do with any of this?

The priests and redactors who defined the contents of the Bible were also worried that the text might obviate many of the teachings of Torah. So, most scholars agree, they added one or two epilogues to the original text.

First, here’s how the author ended his sermon:

12:7 Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit

shall return unto God who gave it.12:8 Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; all is vanity.

The first epilogue switches from the first to the third person:

12:9 And moreover, because the preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs.

12:10 The preacher sought to find out acceptable words: and that which was written was upright, even words of truth. 12:11 The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies, which are given from one shepherd.

The second epilogue switches back to the first person, but it’s not clear whether Kohelet is being impersonated, or whether the redactor is speaking for himself:

12:12 And further, by these, my son, be admonished: of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh22.

12:13 Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.

12:14 For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.

Although “Fear God and keep his commandments” is a jarring and irrelevant summary to this book, it nevertheless provides the warrant for later Rabbis to extract homilies that contrast the vanity or futility of life with the unswerving rule of God.

Interpretation 1: Temporary versus permanentRabbis tend to link the unpredictability of life in Kohelet with the flimsiness of the Sukkah. Professor Paula Hyman, who taught Jewish History at Yale, explains, “The book of Ecclesiastes that we read on the Shabbat of Sukkot reinforces this message of the transiency of our existence with its cry that all is futile.” And what used to be called the UAHC, in its guide to the holiday, tells us, “The most common explanation of Ecclesiastes’ message, that worldly possessions are vain and transitory, corresponds to the central message of Sukkot. Like the sukkah, which is a temporary and vulnerable structure, life itself can be fragile and dangerous.”

Other rabbis point out that, during the time of the fall harvest, especially if it is bountiful, perhaps people need to be reminded that one never knows that a good harvest is coming. The open roof of the Sukkah, our vulnerability to the elements, is meant to humble us, to disabuse us of the idea that safety and survival are man’s lot. And so, to undermine that false sense of power and security, Kohelet reminds us that bad things can happen any time, a harvest can be destroyed by aberrant weather, and that it makes no difference if we are good and honorable people.

And, thanks to the redactors’ epilogue, Kohelet also offers us hope. Orthodox Jewish journalist Amy Kramer, who believes that Solomon wrote Kohelet and that the epilogue was his own work, concludes that:

In contrast to the more sensual Song of Songs, which was written at an earlier point in King Solomon’s life, the book of Kohelet was written after the king experienced of life’s pleasures. Solomon concludes with the message, ”The end of the matter, all having been heard, fear God and keep His commandments; for this applies to all mankind.”

And Rabbi Dovid Soloveitchik, (Rosh Yeshiva in Gush Shemonim) goes even further, insisting that pleasure of Sukkoth, the happiness and abundance of the harvest, has nothing to do with physical pleasure at all:

The joy experienced during Sukkot was a spiritual experience that was based on mitzvoth—not superficial, physical factors. In order for a person to feel this unique, spiritually based joy, one must first step back from the pleasures and desires of this world. This is what the megillah of Ecclesiastes is all about and is why it is specifically read on Sukkot. Once we take to heart its lesson that this world is temporary and unfulfilling, we can then learn to experience a new level of joy, through the performance of Hashem’s mitzvot.

Again, these interpretations depend mightily on the epilogue, that awkward appendage that glosses over the profound content of the book. Which of the commandments, for example, protects us from the wisdom that every one of life’s pursuits is merely “chasing after wind”?

Interpretation 2: InhibitionThe second theory is that Kohelet is read mainly to depress people who are feeling too lustily happy.

When one religion conquers another, a straightforward way to win over the forced converts is to integrate some of their old religious festivals and rituals into the new ones, repurposing them enough to dispel the memory of the old ways. For most students of history, the best-known example of this occurred when the northward- expanding Roman Catholic empire convinced the pagans of the north that their Norse Saturnalia was actually Christmas! (Both holidays, of course, and probably Hanukkah as well, were repurposed celebrations of the winter equinox, honored by earlier pagans.)3

Passover, for example, is sometimes referred to as Chag Matzot, which appears to be a pre-Israelite festival.4 If we think of this holiday as a modified fast, meant to facilitate the arrival of the vernal equinox, then we can see easily that Passover, Lent, and Ramadan5 are the later derivatives of this pagan superstition.

Sukkoth, it appears, a harvest festival, absorbed some of the extant fertility rites practiced by the conquered Canaanites. According to Karen Armstrong (in The History of God), “The ancient Canaanite religions were still flourishing in Israel… the Israelites were still taking part in fertility rites and sacred sex there, as we see in the oracles of the prophet Hosea…”

Just as, today, many Jewish communities celebrate the end of Sukkoth—Simchat Torah—with festive dancing and music-making, similarly in the Second Temple era the holiday concluded with an even more raucous celebration called Simcha Beit HaShoeva, the water-drawing festival. The Bavli tells us “He that never has seen the simchat beit hashoevah (the joy of the Water-Drawing) has never in his life seen joy.”

While on the surface, there isn’t anything especially sensual or joyous about pouring water from one vessel to another, the mood and setting were frantic with excitement. Consider this exotic detail from tractate Sukkah:

There were golden candlesticks there with four golden bowls on the top of them. The candlesticks were fifty cubits high. Four ladders led up to each candlestick, and four youths from the priestly stock went up holding in their hands jars of oil, of twenty-four logs’ capacity, which they poured into the bowls.

They made wicks out of worn-out drawers and girdles of the priests, and with them they set the candlesticks alight, and there was not a courtyard in Jerusalem that did not reflect the light of the beit hashoevah.

Apparently, most of the cavorting featured a bird-like display of male-prowess, in which the young priests succumbed to the joy of the occasion with feats of strength and skill for the benefit of a largely female audience. This all-night party has also been characterized as a festival of “sacred juggling.” We read that R. Simeon ben Gamaliel was so adept that, with eight torches going, not one of them touched the ground when he prostrated himself, touched his fingers to the pavement, bent down, kissed it, and at once sprang up (Sukkah 53a).

Rabbi Harry Freedman, who did much of the Soncino translation of the Talmud, tell us that the offering of water on the altar was a recognition of the blessing bestowed by rain. The celebration, centered on light and joy underlined the life-enhancing power of the rains.6

Contemporaneous accounts indicate that thousands of people participated in the ceremony, and that most who made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem during Sukkoth did so mainly to enjoy the spectacle—which, despite the best attempts of the rabbis to prove otherwise, has no basis in Torah and was, in fact, conducted over the strenuous objections of the senior priests and wealthy Sadducees who found the whole business undignified and embarrassing.

For us today, it is easy to imagine. A quiet, reverential neighborhood suddenly turns into Woodstock once a year. A Catholic publication, the Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, has this to say:

Today, this music and dance festival is understood as the one remnant of the old Canaanite fertility rituals… This was perhaps the only occasion where popular music- making was allowed to mix with the otherwise sternly guarded prerogative of Levitical music…Consequently, secular, superstitious, even popular licentious elements were here introduced in the performance of the temple’s liturgical music.

From this point of view, Kohelet is a necessary tranquilizer. “Consider your fate,” the revelers are warned, and that was supposed to take some of the zeal from their celebrating.

I doubt that the theory behind this second interpretation would work, though. I don’t know about you, but when I read Kohelet my inclination is to ask for more wine and louder music!

Notes1. Fighting vainly against destiny and ultimately succumbing to death is about as Greek a theme as you can find. It is the basis of classical tragedy. ︎ 2. Obviously, written before the era of the Rabbis ︎ 3. Many believe that Thanksgiving is a repurposed Sukkoth (or Festival of Tabernacles). ︎ 4. The explanation for the eating of matzah on Passover is possibly the least credible part of the answers to the four questions. ︎ 5. Ramadan moves through the year because the Muslim calendar is lunar. It no doubt began in spring. ︎ 6. The insertion of “masheev haruach…” into the Amida is a reference to rain as a fertility symbol. ︎

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Deuteronomy 32, our portion for this week, presents us with some interesting images. There are multiple names for God and the power of metaphor is quite present. This is Moses’s final oration, as it were, a poem that reflects some history, discusses God’s impact, and for some, ambivalence, and concludes with a dramatic scene of God letting Moses see the land “from a distance”. Knowing that he may not enter it. All of this in one chapter!
We have the famous verse on 32:7 that calls on the people to “Remember the days of old”, and to seek counsel from elders. The poem continues to cite history and God’s role with the Israelites who insist on straying from God’s path. For this is a people “void of sense and lacking in discernment” (32:28) who despite conquering enemies, all too often forgot that their success was due to God. In a dramatic verse, we read “See, then, I am He, there is no God but me. I deal death and give life, I wounded, and I will heal. None can deliver from my hand.” (32:39). There are some interesting interpretations of this poem and the role of and depiction of God. One that, I suggest, can be reflective of us as we grow older. It is a look at the question of why we do what we do, and do we live out of concern what others will think, or as we wish to live?
God’s place and role in this portion is filled with concern as Israel do often strays. Yet, God promises that He will always eventually come to their aid. This alone is a huge question of faith in our post Holocaust, present Israel age. A key verse in this view of God presence can be seen in 32: 26-27. In the Plaut commentary to this portion (p.1564), we read of an interpretation of God’s support of Israel not from compassion, rather “it is His honor that must be protected. Israel is both endangered and saved because it is close to Him and is thereby involved in His needs as well. God must be seen to be God, and if Israel endangers His majesty, it must suffer the consequences. At the same time, it will be rescued from perdition because God cannot allow Israel to be destroyed.” This alone is filled with huge theological implications. Are we pawns of a capricious God? We are a people of history, and we constantly must ask, who controls that history?
But the other question that struck me is embedded also in this portion. God “protects” Israel eventually so that the nations of the world will continue to fear God. Do we thus live out life under that protection? How free are we to live and choose the life we wish, and thus, ready to live with those consequences, without the belief of a Divine shelter of protection? Do we live out life as we think others view us, defined by what others think; or have we the courage to live our own “authentic self”, standing on our own?
This portion raises many significant questions of faith and theology. It is a perfect portion for the Shabbat between Rosh Hoshonnah and Yom Kippur, our “Shabbat T’shuvah” (Sabbath of repentance). We are called to “return” to God. But this Shabbat, as do these Holidays, also ask us to consider to which God shall we return?
Shabbat shalom, Shannah Tovah
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Reflections on YizkorEditor’s Note: This essay by Reb Simcha Raphael was originally published here in 2019. We are republishing it as a guest D’var Torah this week because of the approach of Shabbat T’shuvah.

A story is told of Reb Simcha Bunam, one of the early and great Hasidic masters, who was close to the last moments of life. As he lay in bed, his grief-stricken wife burst into tears. With calm equanimity, the dying man looked at her lovingly, and said: “Why are you crying? My whole life was only that I might learn how to die.” And with these words rolling off his lips, he died peacefully, fully accepting his finite human fate.

In many ways this is a strange deathbed story.

The very idea of spending one’s life learning to die stands in radical contrast with our societal norms which assert that life and youth, above all, are important. Prescriptions for living are taught by parents and promulgated in schools. From a young age, children are given life skills; adolescents taught how to cope with the vicissitudes of social and economic life in our times. And elders are given inspirational guidelines to keep on living, enjoying life. As a society, we do all we can to avoid the subject of dying and death — and yet, as human beings, die we must!

Even though the reality of death and dying is hard-wired into the operating system of human folk, our society is death-denying. No one wants to talk about death — in so many ways, large and small, we avoid the D-word. The very language we use distances us from the reality of human mortality. People don’t die, we say they passed, passed away, passed on, expired (my teacher Reb Zalman used to say he would have to check his driver’s license regularly to see if he had expired), or in the colloquial euphemism par excellence, we say they “kicked the bucket”. As a culture, we sanitize death, avoid talking about the deceased, and in well-meaning ways people often say to friends and loved ones who are bereaved, “Call me if you need me.” Then we stay away from grief-stricken people because we are uncomfortable with too much display of emotion.

As many people recall, at the funeral of John F. Kennedy, his wife Jackie was the stoic, bereaved widow, emotionally in control, not revealing messy, disturbing, unpleasant emotions. For an entire generation, Jacqueline Kennedy was the cultural model of how to deal with death and grief.

Sheryl Sandberg, the CFO of Facebook, after dealing with the sudden death of her 47-year-old husband, authored a book called Option B – Facing Adversity, Building Resilience and Finding Joy in Life. In speaking about her work creating support groups for people going through loss, she claims that talking openly about death and being public about our feelings of grief and loss are culturally radical in this society. And in that sense, Judaism’s approach to death, in contrast to that of our contemporary society, is culturally radical, as is the Jewish practice of saying a communal Yizkor prayer service to remember the dead, prescribed to be done four times a year.

In reciting Yizkor prayers publicly, we recognize that we are a community of bereaved. We stand up and are seen mourning for parents, siblings, spouses and sadly for some, mourning the death of a child. In saying Yizkor we acknowledge we experienced the reality of death and loss and are not hiding from that truth. We gather with others in community to honor the memory of those who have died, to console one another, and to assuage our hurting heart. And even more, by saying Yizkor we align and enter in conversation with souls of loved ones who have died and are in the world beyond — the realm the medieval Kabbalist Nahmanides called Olam HaNeshamot, the World of Souls.

For Judaism, dealing with death in an open-hearted and compassionate way is normative; only against the background of our society is it culturally radical. As Jews living within the mainstream North American culture, many of us have lost touch with this inherent traditional Jewish wisdom which remembers the reality of death and loss in open, realistic ways.

Examining the spectrum of contemporary Jewish death practices, we see how a realistic view of death is inherent to Jewish life and culture. Take for a starting example the Jewish funeral — what is the crescendo ritual moment of Jewish burial? Nothing says death is realistic more clearly than the echoing sound of earth shoveled upon the casket by immediate family members. In that startling moment we know death is real, and one can imagine seeing every clump of earth that had ever hit the coffin of every Jewish person ever buried.

In the month of Elul, prior to the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, it is traditional to visit the graves of loved ones. As a New Year approaches, we acknowledge the reality of death going to the cemetery as if to give our loved ones an end-of -ear report, and to ask for their blessings for the New Year.

Similarly, consider the practice of Yizkor, memorial prayers said in synagogue four times a year—when? At Yom Kippur: it makes sense to remember the dead on a day we chant the Unetaneh Tokef prayer speaking of “who shall live and who shall die” and asking to be inscribed for another year in the Book of Life. We also say Yizkor on the final days of the three pilgrimage festivals of Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot. In the time of celebration of our joyous holy days, z’man simchateinu, we acknowledge the reality that our loved ones are no longer with us, and recite Yizkor to remember and honor them. Life and death, celebration and mourning are interwoven.

And the Jewish recitation of Kaddish Yatom, the Mourners’ Kaddish: where does this act of ritual mourning take place? Not in private but in a communal context. Recitation of Mourners Kaddish is a public act, one stands and is seen as one who experienced a loss. We do not deny, hide or sanitize the reality that death has affected, or is affecting our life.

Similarly, shiva — seven days of public mourning after the death of a family member — is likewise a communal ritual practice. Shiva is not simply a well-catered event where people engage in small talk or banalities filling the uncomfortable silence. It is a collective mourning ritual, a public opportunity to comfort mourners, to remember the person who has died, and to help send the soul of the deceased on its post-mortem journey.

Walking into a synagogue, we see another public declaration honoring the reality of death. In both contemporary and older synagogue buildings one of the first things we encounter upon entering are the yahrzeit plaques, the memorial board telling us of the generations of those who have lived and died.

Even more, the way Judaism approaches the reality of death in the midst of life can be found in our wedding traditions. Prior to the wedding, it is traditional for a bride and groom to go to the cemetery to visit the graves of loved ones. Before my own wedding I went with my father to the graves of his father and mother, my grandparents whom I had known. But we also trekked through the distant rows of an old cemetery in Montreal, Canada to find the graves of his four grandparents. It was a profoundly meaningful moment for me, feeling the connection with the ancestral generations I had never known as I prepared for entering a new chapter of my own life.

It is also taught that present under the huppah with the bride and groom are all their ancestors and descendants. When I prepare a couple for marriage, I ask who among their ancestors that died do they want to remember under the huppah. This is the Jewish way; just as we break a glass at the end of the wedding in reminder of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, even in times of joy we honor the generations that have passed before us.

And finally, just as it is traditional to wear a white linen garment — a kittel — on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and at the Passover Seder, it is also worn by a groom at the time of wedding. And although many are unfamiliar with this practice, the deceased Jewish man, traditionally, is robed in that same kittel at the time of burial.

In so many ways for Judaism life and death are interwoven into the very fabric of the universe. We don’t deny death because we don’t deny life; we affirm that life and death are sacred dimensions of human existence. That is the deeper Jewish mystery underlying our act of saying Yizkor on Yom Kippur this year.

We also see this idea of the interweaving of life and death in Torah. In Genesis 27 we read:

And it came to pass, when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his eldest son, and said to him, My son; and he said to him, Behold, here I am. And he said, Behold now, I am have grown old, and do not know the day of my death; (Gen. 27:1-2)

At first when we look at what Isaac has to say, it makes perfect sense. Isaac, having become blind, is clearly aware of his aging and his vulnerability. On the surface there is nothing problematic or remarkable about this passage. As in the story of Reb Simcha Bunam, often we hear words of wisdom on the deathbed. But what is strange about this Biblical verse is that when we follow the narrative of the Torah about Isaac, we discover that he does not die for many years. As subsequent chapters of Genesis unfold, we read about the continuing story of Isaac’s sons Jacob and Esau, and eventually about his beloved wife Rachel’s death and burial on the road to Bethlehem; and only at the end of Genesis 35 does Torah inform us of Isaac’s death:

And Jacob came to Isaac his father to Mamre, to the city of Arba, which is Hebron, where Abraham and Isaac sojourned. And the days of Isaac were a hundred and eighty years. And Isaac died, and was gathered to his people, being old and full of days; and his sons Esau and Jacob buried him.
(Gen. 35:27-29)

Isaac says “I am old, I don’t know the day of my death” — and then he lives on for quite a while. According to the Midrash, at least another twenty-five years! So, what do we learn from Isaac’s declaration of the uncertainty of the timing of his impending death? We see that Isaac accepts the inevitability of his own death, and then proceeds to do what he had to do to live his life fully. This is what we learn from Isaac and this is the message we want to take with us as we prepare for Yizkor this year. While Judaism accepts death as a realistic part of life, and provides opportunities to mourn our losses, there is no glorification of death. Even in accepting the reality of death with integrity, the imperative of all this is to live fully, to live a life of holiness and meaning.

So this year, on Yom Kippur, when we face our human mortality so clearly in our liturgy, as we read about “who shall live and who shall die” we are reminded by Reb Simcha Bunam, by our ancestor Isaac and by the legacy of Jewish tradition that our task is to honor the reality of death AND to live our lives fully.

As we prepare to say Yizkor this year, think about the loved ones for whom you are saying Yizkor. What is their legacy to you? What did you learn from them about how to live life fully? What are the gifts of spirit that they have bequeathed to you? Saying Yizkor gifts us with opportunity to harvest wisdom of generations past.

To conclude: I recently heard a country music song that embodies the same teaching expressed in the story of Reb Simcha Bunam.

In the song Live Like You Are Dying by Tim McGraw, he sings of his father’s wrestling with a terminal medical diagnosis, and he and his father entered into dialog which (in an edited version) came out like this:

“When it sank inThat this might really be the real endHow’s it hit youWhen you get that kind of news?Man, what’d you do?”

[And his father answered]

I went skydivingI went Rocky Mountain climbingI went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu“I was finally the husbandThat most of the time I wasn’tAnd I became a friend a friend would like to have

And I loved deeperAnd I spoke sweeterAnd I gave forgiveness I’d been denying”And I spoke sweeterAnd I watched an eagle as it was flying”And he said

“Someday I hope you get the chanceTo live like you were dyingTo live like you were dyingTo live like you were dying”

May we all live the fullness of our life with passion, conviction and integrity!

G’mar Hatimah Tovah. May we all be signed and sealed in the Book of Life.

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This Shabbat we meet a double portion, Nitzavim-Vayelech! These portions are filled with great texts, famous verses and challenging personal transitions. In looking at these texts I could not help but think of these transitions and how they speak to so many of us. Perhaps the most meaningful situation is Moses’s acceptance that he can no longer handle the challenges of leadership, that he accepts that Joshua will take his place and the ambivalence (and I really do think it is ambivalence) of his acceptance of his death, which is couched in terms of his not being allowed to set foot into Canaan.
This reminded me of that challenge that so many of us face in accepting new realities as we get older. Our bodies are changing, echoing 31:2, many of us come to accept that we can no longer be as active as we once were, at least physically. That in itself is a message for while we may not be as physically active, Judaism also teaches that our curiosity for learning and ideas is always there, even it is tempered by other limitations.
How do we accept the new realities of our own aging? Do we surrender to these new realities and retreat from the world? Or do we accept these new realities as part of our life’s journey and evolve into ways of still embracing and celebrating the life we have? I think this tension is lurking in these portions and may be a worthy source of conversation, especially at this season of the year when we are urged to confront our own life and what we wish for our future.
One of the key themes of our first portion is that of choice. This is, as we have discussed, a major motif within the moral and ethical texts of our tradition. The texts and liturgy that we will encounter in these next weeks will be a constant reminder that how we meet life rests with the choices we make. What we chose does reflect who we are, and one of the questions that will be raised is how honest we are in recognizing and accepting and owning those choices. How we chose to either surrender to new realities or accept them and move on to life will encompass much of our lives as we get and grow older. May we grow from strength to strength.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week Moses begins his final summation. Following a lengthy recitation of blessings and curses, Moses speaks to the people and reminds them of all that God has done for them and that up until this day “the Eternal has not given you a mind to understand or eyes to see or ears to hear” (29:3) One may read this verse as a reproach to the people who, after 40 years, still do not appreciate all that has been done for them. Or the verse can be read as if to say, now, after the Wilderness experience of all these years, you can now understand, see and hear.The Art Scroll commentary sums it up this way: “Only now, after forty years of miraculous survival and the beginning of a conquest that was clearly accomplished by God, could the people fully appreciate the awesome degree of gratitude and allegiance they owed Him. As the Sages say (Avodah Zarah 5b) a student does not fully understand his teacher until after forty years”.
I think this passage speaks volumes to us. As someone once said, “we look forwards but understand backwards”. As we get older, we begin to really grasp and understand life. Indeed, it is our forties that so much of life begins to change. We may be at the height of our careers, but it is a time that we often start to deal with changes, changes in our bodies, family life, relationships and perhaps, the first real dawning of our own mortality. As we enter the final days preparation for the Holidays, and maybe, begin our life review, we may be able to see more clearly the reasons for the choices we have made, and understand what those choices may mean for us as we grow older. This sense of growth and understanding can be, for some, liberating. For others, these reflections may be a challenge, landing someone in the land of regret.
Yet, this is a time for us to hear the voices of tradition, voices of our history, voices that ask us, as this season of reflection dawns, to have the courage to break free from that which limits and controls us, and to have the courage and faith in our self to cross into the new year with hope, faith and purpose.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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There are no shortage of issues to be discussed in this week’s portion. We begin with an examination of a woman taken captive who a soldier desires and then examine a law regarding the son who disrespects his father. We encounter one of the basic proof texts for medical ethics in 22:2 and see also the basic proof text in Judaism for divorce (24:1). In between, we read of a fascinating law of what we are supposed to do when encountering a bird’s nest “in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with the young” (22:6) These are just some of the highlights that await us this Shabbat.
Yet, I want to focus on another very famous passage that speaks directly to so many of us. Immediately after the bird’s nest text we read that when we build a new house we to “make a parapet for your roof, so that you do not bring bloodguilt on your house if anyone should fall.” (22:8). How does this verse “speak” to us? The commentaries speak of the ancient houses that had flat roofs and that people often congregated on or even slept on. There was a danger of falling. The mood of Jewish law tells us that we are responsible for people’s safety, thus, we need to make sure there are guards in place against falling. “Talmudic law sees it as an example of an obligation to block or remove anything on one’s property that is capable of causing death.” (Etz Haiim p.1117)
So, how is this text “speaking” to us? So many of us, as we age, are reminded that one of, if not the major cause of injury is falling. I imagine that many of us know of, or have personal experience with someone who, because of a fall, has had huge health challenges, even hospitalization. We also have learned that our own house can be a major location of those falls, from frayed rugs, to steps, to faulty lighting. As so many of our generation are choosing to “age in place”, this verse becomes very meaningful. How many of us have done a review of our own house to make it safer for us to navigate everything from passages from room to room to grab bars in bathrooms? This all may seem far-fetched when studying Torah, but, let me suggest that the value of health and safety is part of our tradition. Local area agencies on aging, AARP, geriatric specialists all can be helpful in making sure that our houses are safe. In doing so, we can feel at home as Torah “speaks” to us in our age in our own way.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion presents us with a wealth of topics for discussion. The overall theme remains the foundation for creating society, and this portion speaks to the issues of leadership and, in doing so, touches on the idea of a king, warfare and economics. However, the most famous of these themes remains that of justice and the phrase that every colleague has preached on, Tzedek, tzedek, tirdoff! (justice, justice shall you pursue) (16:20)
Centuries of commentators have pursued what this phrase has meant and can mean. There is the instruction to create magistrates and to judge fairly and there is the repetition of the word Tzedek which often is interpreted as a sign of emphasis. In thinking about this, I wanted to play with that repetition and ask you to consider that this repetition may speak to us as we grow older.
How? Well, consider that first Tzedek as the call to seek a society of justice, that sense of tikun olom that so many of us believe in and work for. But it is that second Tzedek that I want to ask you to look at for I am suggesting that this is not outer directed, but a message for us as we age. What would that concept of Tzedek mean for us as we grow older? How can we “judge” our self as we age? Have we looked at life differently now, do we find the need to re-evaluate how we apply the concept of Tzedek to our own life?
We are at the period of the Jewish year (Ellul began this week) when we are asked by tradition to examine who and what we are and wish to be. How do we judge our self? Shall we look to the coming year as an opportunity to evaluate how we can take better care of ourselves? Shall we see the need to do more self-care? Shall we see the need to see the world and our relationships through a filter of chesed – kindness? Can we, in this season of forgiveness, forgive ourselves for the choices that we have made that did not go as well as we had hoped, and the regrets of those choices still hold us? Can we have the courage to place these choices in the past, to let them go and to see that Tzedek for our soul may mean letting go of the bonds of guilts?
So maybe this portion is also asking us to pursue Tzedek for our soul! This is, of course, highly personal, but this is the season to explore this idea. It may take some courage to hold a spiritual mirror to our own soul, but this is the invitation from the season.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This past week was another reminder of where we are age wise. It was the yahrtzeit of one of my closest friends, Rabbi “Jake” Jackofsky. It was a week of visiting some longtime friends who are dealing with very serious illness and hearing of others who are beginning challenging journeys.

This week’s portion reaches out to us with a reminder that speaks volumes to us as we age. The passage begins with a famous line “See, I set before you this day” (11:26). The portion discussed blessings and curses resulting from following or rejecting God’s commandments. It details challenges on following false prophets, the care for the poor and needy and holiday observances. Pay particular attention to chapter 15 and the call to open our hands to people who lack necessities. Again, the image of the open hand that we looked at last week.

But back to that first line. Look at the word “ha’yom”, this day.

We will encounter this again later in Deuteronomy in chapter 29. Our tradition loves this word. But this week, let me ask you to look at this word, and its meaning of “this day”. It speaks volumes to us as we get older and learn to deal with the changes in our bodies and lives and how we chose to accept these changes. No doubt many of us reading this know people, friends of ours, family members, maybe even us, who are dealing with huge changes in our lives, bodies, relationships etc. How many times have we been in discussions when we ask a friend how they are and their response is simply, “well, I got up today.”

There is this wonderful Netflix documentary with Norman Lear, Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner that talks about the fact that if they get up and read the Obits and they are not in them, they go and have breakfast! Out tradition reminds us that when we wake up in the morning, we open out eyes and say “modeh ani l’fanechah,” (I am thankful that I am alive).

Here is that message, we have another day, another gift of life. We may not be able to control the circumstances if our life as we wake, but we can choose how we deal with, look at and live the day we have been given. Again, the theme of this Torah book, and much of our tradition returns; it is our life and the value and reality of choice is ours, and we can determine if we go down the path of blessing or that of curse.

Yes, much of what we much deal with every day is out of our control. But what is within our control is how we chose to “see” (r’eh) the day.

We can accept whatever circumstance there is and try to work with it or surrender to it. Yes, for many this is not easy. The person waking up today dealing with serious illness or feeling as if the world has forgotten them and that they have no worth will be sorely challenges to “see” the day as a gift. That is where one’s faith may come into focus.

For each of us, no matter what our theological foundation, is tested each day in the matter of faith: faith in our self, faith in a future, faith in our own ability to overcome life’s challenges and see the potential for blessing.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We are told this week that we cannot live by bread alone (8:3). This is, perhaps, the most famous line in the portion and sparks a long discussion on the need for the spiritual aspects of life. Indeed, as we age, many of us find a time that we come to see that the material needs to give way to the spiritual. It may be the transfer from the “what” of life to the more serious “why”?
Ekev continues the recitation of the Wilderness wanderings as Moses reflects on, and sometimes revises, previous history. There are on-going moral and ethical issues that have to do with issues related to suffering and warfare and the father figure of God who promises to destroy all those who may stand in the way of the conquest of the Promised Land. We are even reminded of a line from the birkat ha-mazon which appears in 8:10.
An image, however, caught my attention this week. In 7:16-21 we read another of the sections of God promising to destroy or consume the enemies of Israel. A puzzle for Torah study this week can be verse 16 which has the Hebrew word v’al’chatah. The root of the word means “to eat”, “consume” and in some translation is rendered destroy. The section goes on to remind the people of God’s power that the people witnessed, the “mighty hand and the outstretched arm” (7:19). What an interesting image, that strong hand and that arm that reaches out. An interesting juxtaposition!
Think about that image for a moment as it may relate to our world. How can one confront life’s challenges? Play with that text and consider two choices, might and force, that closed fist: or that outstretched arm, with the open fist. Could we interpret this image as choices we have in life, to meet the challenges of life with anger and might, or to meet those challenges with kindness. The closed fist or the open fist. Now I know that we are tampering with the literal context of the text. But we often allow the text to “speak” to us and let me suggest that this image may “speak” to what we may need to consider in the world in which we live. Our society of divided, polarized and filled with suspicion and fears, often, of “the other”. Perhaps the Torah may be trying to tell us that kindness, a sense of chesed, can be equally as powerful as force. Certainly, we live in a world that needs to be reminded that kindness and civility can be of great value and can help break down barriers between people. We again revert to the power and importance of relationships, for it is hard to hate when we are in relationship. As we get older, many of us come to realize that to relate to others in kindness and respect, even when we may disagree on issues, is empowering and in keeping with the highest of Jewish values. No, it is not always easy, but then, as many have said, doing something worthwhile is often never easy.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Sometimes, the answer is “no”.
This week’s Torah portion is one of our more well-known portions, as it contains the third repetition of the Ten Commandments, (chapter 5) the Sh’ma and the V’ahavta. (chapter 6) Much has been written and discussed on these chapters; however, the very beginning of the portion attracted my attention this week. Moses “pleads” again to just be able to cross over and “see the good land”. This is powerfully dramatic scene, Moses knows his fate, yet he pleads once more to which God answers in 3:26 “Enough, never speak to me of this again”. We have all been here at various moments in life; we wish for more, we pray for something and, the answer comes back “no”. So true, especially as life ebbs and we experience changes in our bodies, lifestyles, personal situations, and we pray for perhaps for one more day, one more chance. We are reminded of the first chapter of Ecclesiastes which comments that our eyes are never satisfied (1:8), we are reluctant to yield to the natural losses of life.
These opening lines of our portion have great meaning for so many. Remember, Deuteronomy is the farewell chapter in Moses’s life. He knows his fate but, as with so many, he is not ready. These verses are a not-so-subtle reminder of our own mortality. But notice what Torah does because of this encounter between Moses and God. The next chapters are about faith and living a life embraces by mitzvot. One can make the argument that these verses are about legacy. A key aspect of the rest of Deuteronomy is the aspect of choice, that we have the power to choose not only the life we live, but the legacy we leave behind. This portion, like the very last verses in Ecclesiastes, remind us that a life lived within the boundaries of ethics, faith, kindness and care does make a difference.
This is a section of Torah that speaks to each of us. It reminds us that life is precious, and even though we may plead for more, we know that at some point, it will end. So, we are called on to treasure this gift, and to celebrate the miracles that surround us. This is a portion that also reminds us that a challenge that each of us faces in life is how we deal with life when life tells us “no”. Moses, it seems, turned to affirming faith. We all know that this is not easy. But again, the example of the text is that faith and hope is a choice that rests with each of us. What shall our legacy be?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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So we arrive this Shabbat at the final book of Torah, Deuteronomy. This is a fascinating book with a rich history as many scholars see it as a template for the attempted religious reformation of King Josiah in the 7th century BCE. The main feature of this book are the so-called farewell sermons of Moses. There are many “devarim”/words in these sermons; words which retell the journey of the Israelites and continually caution them against straying from the commandments. There is a repeating theme in the book of: “If you follow the commandments there will be blessing and if you stray there will be curses.”
The “words” here are usually the words of Moses. There is, according to Biblical scholars who examined texts, a sort of re-writing of some of the Wilderness experiences. Moses, it seemed, as he aged and did his “life-review” remembered some things a little differently. We may also do the same thing, in a away of re-writing history according to how we wish to remember.
Something to keep in mind is the very start of the passage. “These are the words that Moses spoke to all of Israel” (1;1). We can see an echo of this later in portion Nitzvaim. The words were, and are, addressed to all generations. It is a reminder that these words are eternal, we just choose to “hear” them differently, at different stages of life. We understand these words differently at different stages of life. That is one of the gifts of tradition that it is always open to interpretation depending on where we are in our own journey. So many of us, as we age, look back and “see” things differently, as our priorities change and life experience has helped redefine what we may have thought was important.
Likewise, we hear the call of tradition depending on our own life situations. There is a lovely interpretation of this in “Sparks Beneath The Surface”, edited by Rabbis Larry Kushner and Kerry Oiltzky. They quote the Rabbi Simcha Bunem who noted that these words that Moses spoke “depended on all Israel, to each one according to his or her
character and age, his or her understanding and level of perception, each one according to his or her measure.” (p. 219)
Thus, Torah “speaks” to us every day and we “hear” it depending on where we are in life. In this way, the message remains eternal and every changing at the same time. Let us not be afraid to “hear”.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come this week to the final portion in Numbers, a double portion Matot-Ma’aseh. It is a challenging portion as it deals with leadership issues in many ways.
We have a difficult and challenging section dealing with the war against the Midianites. We confront a moral issue in 31 when Moses confronts the commander who reports that they spared the women and children. The anger of Moses is the subject of much concern and comment. No doubt the those of you who will study Torah this Shabbat will spend some time on this passage.
But there is another section in this portion that speaks to issues that may be impacting many of us. In 32, the tribes of Reuben and Gad ask Moses to allow them to set up their camp outside the promised land. An interesting conversation takes place that touches on community, loyalty, and responsibility. In the end, Gad and Reuben are given the permission, and they promise to continue to be part of the community. They sought the validity of their own lifestyles.
Now, this little story can speak to us today. In many of our families, we have observed our children and grandchildren who have decided to make lifestyle choices that may differ from those that we have made, or that we may consider outside the norm. Yet, today, the concept of the “norm” has significantly changed. Gad and Reuben do not wish to separate themselves from the community, rather, they wish to live their lives in their own way as part of the community, to be accepted for their choices. There is a negotiation of sorts with Moses, just as there is within many of our families. Let me suggest that this little story can be seen as a pathway to discuss how families, out of love, can embrace and support lifestyle choices of loved ones that may differ from what we have chosen. Yet, remember, just like the portion, there is room for these choices within our community, a community that harkens back to the primary ethical and humane aspect of being in the image of the Divine. In a world and society that seeks to undermine so many of these choices, we would do well to remember Gad and Reuben.
Chazak Chazak V’nitchazek

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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It constantly amazes me how often a passage in the weekly Torah portion reflects current events. This week is no different, and, maybe even more amazing! Our portion begins with the story of Pinchas, who kills the Israelite Zimri and the Midianite woman Cozbi due to their deviant behavior. In one of the most important passages this portion has (Numbers 27) we read of the daughters of Zelophechad, who won the petition to receive their father’s inheritance as there was no male heir. As commentaries note, the law was changed as a result of this story. Also included in the portion is another recitation of calendar issues (28).
However, let me ask you to focus on chapter 27:12-23. We read this Shabbat of a story of succession. In these verses is a brief story on the transfer of power/leadership from Moses to Joshua. Yes, this conforms to the story we read a while ago of Moses losing patience, striking that rock for water. His punishment, as you know, was to be denied entrance to the Promised Land. In Pinchas, we come to these few verses that provide a ritual for this transition. Moses seeks a leader who will be for all the people. As Etz Haiim writes reflecting a Talmudic passage: “The Midrash pictures Moses urging God to appoint a leader able to relate to every Israelite, even with whom he disagrees”. The commentary goes on to note (p.929) that Moses transfers power without reservation or ambivalence, “a rare gesture for a man who has been accustomed to authority for so long”. The commentary wonders “What must have been going through Moses’ mind as he reflected on the achievements and frustration of the past, and the awareness of all that he yearned to do and would never be able to do?”
So much to unpack here, not only as it could relate to the events of this past week with President Biden, but on a more personal level to so many in our demographic. How many of us have had the experience of having to move on, to cede a job or power or control to the next generation, knowing that we would be unable to finish what we wished or wanted to do? These few verses open us to the reality of life’s transitions that we all go through. Some of them are voluntary and so many are the result circumstances, often beyond our control. Yet, as we learn, how we chose to handle these transitions, tell us much about who we are and how we live.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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A curious portion this week. A talking donkey, blessings and a strange and frightening, in a way, ending. This is the portion where we meet Bilaam, who is asked by Balak, the King of Moab, to curse the Israelites. Eventually he blesses them with the famous line found in prayer books “mah tovu”. (24:5) Yet there is another verse in the portion that jumps off the page considering current events. In 23: 9 we come to a place where Bilaam observes the Israelites. In the text, God intervenes on Bilaam’s behalf (23:4) and, as he observes, he states that: “As I see them from the mountain tops, gaze upon them from the heights, there is a people that dwells apart, not reckoned among the nations.”
It is interesting that different Torah commentaries translate the key phrase differently. The Plaut from Reform Judaism has “hein am l’vadad” as “a people that dwells apart”. The newer Etz Haiim from Conservative Judaism has the same and the Art Scroll from Modern Orthodox has that phrase as “a nation that will dwell in solitude.” Is there a nuance between “that dwells” and “will dwell”. Is Bilaam’s statement a fact of his observance in that context (the Israelites were together as a separate group of tribes) or is it a prediction of Jewish futures and life?
This verse is very meaningful now. I imagine that many of us have had discussions with friends in recent months that speak to the challenge, given the war and the huge rise in antisemitism, of just how “different” the Jewish community is. The dream of fitting in and being just like everyone else seems to have been dashed. Are we destined to a people alone, apart, and forever seen as the “other”? This conversation around the limits of assimilation and the desire to become more “parochial” has captured the imagination of many in our community given the events of the past year. The world seems to keep reminding us that we are “apart”, despite our wishes, in many cases, to fit in. Will we see a return to a more observant and public affirming Judaism, or will there be, in this “free” society a continuation of a gradual drift from identification and observance? This issue is becoming more of a challenge for all of us. How we as a community respond to this challenge will go a long way in shaping what kind of Judaism evolves.
And there is yet another way to look at the phrase in question, a way that sees the key work not as “apart” or solitude” but “alone”. So, we can see in this translation, a statement of moral principle as the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote: “What does this phrase “a people that dwells alone” mean? It means a people prepared to stand along if need be, living by its own moral code, having the courage to be different and to take the road less travelled”
Do you feel part of a people “apart”? What would it mean to be a people that will dwell “in solitude”?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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In the opening lines of this week’s portion, we read of a ritual that has confounded generations of commentators. Moses and Aaron are commanded to take a completely red cow “which is without blemish and upon which a yoke has not come” (Numbers 19:2) There is great mystery regarding what this ritual meant? Some traditional comments underscore that it may be beyond our realm of imagination, that as this came from God (according to traditional understanding of Torah’s origin) the true meaning may be beyond our abilities. It does reflect rituals of purification and taboos regarding death as well as symbolic expiation of sin. We have seen animal sacrifice used in Torah as a means of atonement.
Torah, as we have mentioned often, is metaphor in so many ways. The symbolism for us of this ancient ritual can speak to us and our lace in today’s world. The “red cow” is to be “without blemish”, perfect! The pursuit of perfection: now there is a challenge! An on-going challenge for many in our society is just that pursuit. Yet, as we get older, and come to understand our own journey, we often come to the realization that the pursuit of perfection is a false and useless task for no one is ever perfect and the acceptance of our own self, with all out foibles and individuality is, in truth, a desired goal.
Vivian Skolnick, in her commentary on this passage suggests a psycho-spiritual comment when she writes that “The pursuit of perfectionism is an illusory goal which will ultimately turn into ashes, like the burning of the perfectly red heifer”. (“The Biblical Path to Psychological Maturity”. Vivian B. Skolnick.p.189) The symbolism of our non-perfection and the understanding that each of us have flaws or imperfections that, if properly understood, and taught, become part of the beauty of each individual soul. The focus of a person or a society on that which is not “perfect” (another means of speaking about “the other”) leads to destruction. History is filled with attempts to create perfect societies and those attempts have usually ended. Like the red cow, in ashes.
I think that this portion gives us another opportunity to reflect on our own self and soul and to accept, and even embrace, the reality of non-perfectionism. If everything is perfect, where then is the individuality of a person, a moment? Judaism teaches that each of us is unique, there is no perfect creation. To this, we celebrate our own uniqueness, the spirituality of our own imperfection.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Korach! The name raises all sorts of emotions within Torah. Here, this week we read of the open rebellion against the leadership of Moses. The outbreak, couched in terms of seeing a disconnect between leadership and people, has been interpreted for centuries in so many ways. No doubt, those of you who go to Torah study this week will be treated to a variety of these comments. Was this jealousy of siblings? Was it a venting of frustration on the Wilderness? Or was this, as we can read, an act against God, for which the punishment was death. One thing we can observe from the texts is that as the portion ends, the rebels are cast aside and killed and the power and authority of the Aaronide Priesthood is firmly established. Indeed, it is not too difficult to believe that the purpose of the story was really to underscore the centrality of the priesthood as the Exile from Babylonia ended.
How can this portion speak to us? We can certainly in this moment in time, reflect on the desire for some to rebel and act out against authority through violence. Rebellion is certainly seen in Korach as a negative. Yet, let me suggest that we may wish to also look at the concept of rebellion in a different way. As we reflect on our lives, ask what have we rebelled against? No, I am not just speaking of typical teen-age rebellion, but what have we, as we evolved, rebelled against that helped shape who we are now?
One of the things I suggest is the rebellion against perceptions of who we should be, or how we should live, fostered on us by others. One of the challenges of maturing is the struggle to “be our authentic self”. This may involve a type of psycho-spiritual rebellion against what parents or society think we should be. Not everyone can do this. This takes some courage for many to seek a life that they define and not a life that is defined by the expectations of others.
So, I invite you to consider how each of us may reinterpret this idea of rebellion. After all, oyu never know.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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It is very easy to lose sight of oneself. The world in which we live is so filled with distractions, temptations, and easy avenues for gratification that so many often just get lost. I, of course, mean spiritually lost, a loss of a sense of who am I? We can be easily distracted by what we see or want to see. Thus, the central theme of this week’s portion which has Moses sending scouts to assess the land. The familiar story has ten of the scouts returning with a negative report and only two, Joshua and Caleb, returning with the positive report of a “land flowing with milk and honey”. The “stiff necked” people see fear and, as a result, wander for forty years. While some saw fear, others saw opportunity. The old expression “perception is reality” really is a theme of this portion.
But, like all of Torah, the texts speak to each of us and our experience. All of us, at different times in our lives, have “seen” things a certain way, only to discover, maybe years later, that what we saw was not the truth. What we saw was, for many, what we wished to see at that time in our life. Looking back on our own life and the choices that we have made; we can sometimes honestly reflect on the “if only I had seen this then”! Life, however, is not like that. We reflect the times in which we live and have lived and a message again from the portion is that the contexts of where we are in life so often determine how we “see “things. The test of all of this is how we adapt to new circumstances and growth which may, we hope, allow us to “see” things from a different vantage point. Sometimes this is called maturity, or the lifelong process of maturing.
In an interesting way this portion also gives us a very easy way to remember to check the contexts of when and how we make choices as we grow. How can we remember to try and see life and our choices that should be grounded in an ethical and moral foundation? At the end of the portion, we read of the command to “make fringes on the corner of their garments” (15:38). This is a tangible visible reminder that we need to be grounded in a faith tradition, so that when we look at the fringes on the “tallit” we can be reminded that we are part of a sacred tradition and that when we look to make a decision, we need to “see” that the choices we have need to be based on the ethical and moral traditions of Jewish life. The fringes remind us that after we “see” things, we need to “look” deeply at the context and implications of what we see.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion is, in many ways, a challenging one. We note the role of the Levites, thus underscoring the importance of the Levitical priesthood and in Numbers 9 the curious ritual of the second Passover. We see again the cloud and the Tabernacle and find ourselves in a challenging situation in chapter 11 when Moses, overwhelmed by the demands of leadership and the complaints of the frustrated people that he is so depressed that he calls on God that he cannot do the job any longer, it is too much and that “If You would deal thus with me, kill me rather, I beg you, and let me see no more of my wretchedness” (11.15). A comment notes that the Masorites may have changed the text from “their” wretchedness, perhaps another inkling to the tradition’s celebration of Moses as an example of humility.
However, I ask you to look at the verses that follow this passage. Moses’ cry is met with a response by God that he should gather seventy elders. This echoes another passage in Exodus. In a moment of crise, despair and self-doubt, the advice is to gather the people who have been there, who have lived experience and seek their counsel so that the burden of leadership may be shared. Let me suggest that this passage speaks volumes to our own experience. Life experience counts for much in Torah. Do we live in a society that discounts it? Do we trade off the wisdom of history for the temporal thrill of the now? How many elders report that as they age, they become invisible, their experience discounted?
I consider the lesson of the seventy to be a message for us and our times. It goes to the growing reality that we often forget the lessons of history and in doing so, as philosophers have pointed out, are thus doomed to repeat it. How seriously is history taught in our schools? How seriously is Jewish history taught in our synagogues? We are living some of that now as have seen so many of our college aged young people unprepared to meet the charges and challenges of antisemitism on campuses. Are we sending them out without any serious historical knowledge other than miracles stories? Are we, as a society, immune to catch phrases and innuendos from leaders that hearken back to moments in time when those phrases and attitudes were used against us?
When you study the portion this Shabbat, ask yourself about the value of knowing our history and thus, each of our histories. Each of us contains within us a book of lived experience. How can we, do we celebrate that history?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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The blessing! The most famous passage in Naso is the Priestly Blessing, a familiar part of worship and countless rituals. The three part blessing emerges from chapter 6:22-26. No doubt many of you who attend Torah study this Shabbat will spend some time on these verses. The idea of blessing is a powerful one and, as you know, common to all religious traditions. The root for the Hebrew : bet, resh, koph, stems from the word for knee, as bending the knee or bowing before something or someone to show respect etc. According to a 2d century Rabbi Meir, we are asked to recite 100 blessings a day, and as many of you who have studied the issue of blessings, we have blessings for everything, from the miracles of our bodily functions to seeing rainbows. Yes, blessings are a key part of our life, culture and how we interact with the world, all the time recognizing that the blessing places us in sacred relationship with God. Just unpack the usual first words of many blessings and you can reflect on an entire theology.
But for this Shabbat, in this time in our lives, I want to pose another question. We hear much regarding our responsibility to be a blessing to the world. Some see the concept of “tikun olom” as a call to be a blessing via our actions, to the world at large. All this is fine. Yet, let me ask you about how, at this stage of life, we can be a blessing to our own self. Increasingly, in classes and conversations, I am hearing this shift take place. As we get older, and the reality of our own mortality sets in, many of us begin to reflect and reimagine this blessing idea in such as way as to make is very personal.
So, many of us now ask how we can be a blessing to our self. This does not take away from the communal call to action. Rather, it awakens in us a reality that we need to also look at the inner world of our soul. How can we live and act so that we bring that sense of blessing to each of us. This is very personal. It may mean letting go of some responsibilities, guilts and obligations. It may mean taking more time for our own health and wellness. It may mean re-orienting priorities to focus more on friends and family. It may mean so many different things, but the idea of how we can be a blessing to our own self and soul is something that I suggest, will become more important in each of our lives as we age. In doing so, we may also attain that blessing of peace that we pray for so often. How many of us are in search of that personal sense of peace?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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“God spoke to Moses in the wilderness” (Numbers 1:1). These words begin our fourth Torah book. Commentators have often remarked on the root of both wilderness and spoke or words as deled, bet, resh; and thus asked the question, where do we “hear” God’s words? Our tradition spends a lot of time trying to comment and interpret the idea of the wilderness. Certainly, many of us have seen a wilderness, a physical place like the desert or vast expanses of uninhabited land. And, of course, we meet this concept throughout the Passover seder.

The wilderness also serves as the major symbol within our Jewish mindset. It is where we traveled in search of the Promised land and given the current crises, many have returned to this image of an eternal search for peace in a “promised” land. Yet, this image of the wilderness speaks also to a psycho-spiritual meaning, for the wilderness is also a metaphor for each of our own life journeys. Looking back on our life, have we at times, thought that we were alone in a wilderness? Rabbi Phillip Rice, in a recent Torah comment for the URJ noted this when he wrote that the portion “reflects the uncertain and adventurous human journey of every generation, including ours. The trials facing the Israelites as they trek across the wilderness for forty years, maturing as a people, mirror the obstacles, successes, and failures that we encounter in life as a people and as individuals.”

Does this portion, then, ask in some symbolic way how and where we encounter the Divine as we journey through our life? Is it and has it always been there and we were just, at various times in our life, unable or unwilling to see and hear? The portion sends us another message that speaks to this, and maybe to where we are in this stage of life. The first job in the portion is for Moses and Aaron to count the people, create a census. Each tribe was noted and assigned a place in the way the camp was developed, and at the center of the tribes was to be the Tabernacle.

Is the text asking us if, as we enter these life stages, the sense of the sacred, the Divine is at our center? Have we moved from the material to the spiritual and if so, how? Have we or do we give priority now to different things? As we traverse our own wilderness, in search of our own “promised” land, where do we place the sacred in our life? Or, as may be the case with some we know, how many, as we age, create their own wilderness of the soul and spirit?

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is not an easy Torah portion. Blessings and curses are the fabric of this week’s reading, and the number of verses describing curses outweigh those of the blessings. The verses of curses, known in tradition as the “tochechah”, are traditionally chanted or read in a softer voice. A reading of the portion this Shabbat, taken in light of much of what is happening in the world, may raise some anxiety and concern on several levels. Once again, Torah speaks to the real world.
Commentators note that themes of free will, reward, and punishment flow through this portion. No matter if you take the words literally or as symbolic language, serious moral and ethical challenges await the reader. One comes away from this portion being reminded that what kind of world we wish and what kind of leaders we get are the result of what we choose to do. Our actions, our elections etc, have consequences. In an essay on this portion in the Reform commentary, Rabbi Gunther Plaut (z’l) talks of a type of democratizing of responsibility. In other words, we get the leaders and society that we choose, either by our actions or choosing inaction.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z’l) in his Essays on Ethics, seems to expand Plaut’s thought when he wrote on this portion. “One of the most profound contributions Torah made to the West is this: that the destiny of nations lies not in the externalities of wealth or power, fate or circumstance, but in moral responsibility—the responsibility for creating and sustaining a society that honours the image of God within each of its citizens, rich and poor, powerful and powerless alike.” (p.211)
So, this portion speaks to us of a society based on moral responsibility. How relevant is this for us today as we witness the shifts both here and in the Middle East. Once again, our texts and tradition call out to us with that fateful choice between blessing and curse, life and death, good and evil. The anxiety that so many feel may, in large part, be based in the age-old challenge of how and what we choose; and once again, the choice is in our hands
And..as we finish Leviticus, we are reminded “chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek”…..let us be strong and be strengthened
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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In this week’s portion we continue the litany of rules and such that speak to the Israelites. We are close to the end of Leviticus. Note as you read the portion its most famous line, that of 25:10 “You shall proclaim “dror” throughout the land and to all its inhabitants”. The translation of the Hebrew “dror”is often rendered “freedom” but also has the meaning of “release” as in release from slavery. The context is the calendar and the Sabbatical and Jubilee years when “dror” as in release was a part of the cycle. But, on the Liberty Bell, it is freedom!
It is that cycle that I wish to look at with you this week, for the portion again speaks to the calendar cycle, specifically laws around the land (which are reminded that it belongs not to us, but to God, and thus another proof text for the emerging Jewish environmental movement). When you look at our calendar cycle, holiday cycle, etc you again are reminded of the importance in Judaism of time. We take moments, as Heschel reminds us, to “sanctify time”. As we get older, it is time that becomes the shadow that is our companion. As we have written numerous times, time is the one thing, no matter what we do or try to do, that we cannot control. So, this portion again serves as a reminder of that fact: we are, as an old camp song reminded us, “captives on the carousel of time”.
This idea of time has become very personal to me, and many of my friends. We are all at that age when the preciousness of certain moments become more important. The moments of meaning with friends, family, grandchildren (if we are blessed to have them) and yes, even moments of memory; time becomes so much more present. We enter the spiritual realm of life even more. Many of us readjust our value system, moving from acquiring “things” to acquiring meaningful moments. Our often repeated “some day” become more immediate.
It is the reality of our own mortality that helps shape this psychic shift.
So, for Behar let me remind you of a wonderful little meditation, a poem that was given to me by someone at a workshop we did on issues related to time. It comes from a magazine called Shambala Sun, from 2000 and is attributed to a Mark Gerzon. It is “The Second Half of Life”.
In the second half of our life we yearn for wholeness
We yearn to remember the parts of ourselves that we have forgotten, to nourish those we have starved, to express those we have silenced, and to bring into the light, those we have cast into shadows.
We yearn for the parts of ourselves that have been in the dark to find sunlight, and those that are sunburned to find shade. We yearn for the parts that have been undeveloped to grow, parts that have been silent to speak, and those that were noisy to be still.
We yearn for the parts that have been alone to find companionship, and those that have been overcrowded to find solitude.
We yearn to live our unlived lives.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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What does it mean to be a leader? The Torah this week reminds us that no priest who has any type of defect (moom) can be allowed to officiate a sacred rite. We have seen this in other portions, this ideal of bringing something to the Temple without blemish. In precious years we also have used this space to look at that Hebrew word for defect as it comes to us in Leviticus 21.17. Yet, when we extract ourselves from the text and from the sacrificial cult and Priesthood of Leviticus, and let the word speak to us, we can see a variety of meanings, many of which are very personal.
One thing we have all learned as we get older is that we all are blemished in some way. As we look back, all of us can identify moments in life that, if possible, we would re-do, re-live, erase etc. There are no “perfect” people as we all know. The emphasis on leadership and the fact that leaders must be above any reproach also shakes us today, for we do not have to look too far to see that we have certainly strayed from this idea. Leadership, as the commentaries teach, means modeling a life that is without blemish. Rabbi Sacks in his commentary on this passage writes: “People looked up to as role models must act as role models. Piety in relation to God must be accompanied by exemplary behavior in relation to one’s fellow humans. When people associate religiosity with integrity, decency, humility and compassion, God’s name is sanctified. When they come to associate it with contempt for others and for the law, the result is a desecration of God’s name” *
Now associating this text with our leaders is one thing but let us also be reminded that this is personal. We can apply these words to each of us, in our dealings with other people and in how we look at the world. This is especially applicable now when there is so much division. The “blemish” now may be the fact that we have lost the ability to be civil to one another, to be able “to agree to disagree”. Friendships have been strained, relationships have been lost because of our inability to listen and dialogue. So, this Shabbat, look at this word “blemish” (moom) as the portion begins and let it speak to you.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address.
•“Essays on Ethics”: Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. P.198

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We come this week to one of the most quoted and easily one of the most powerful of portions in Torah. Leviticus 19 can be seen as sort of a one-chapter summary of Jewish values, laws, and ethics. It runs the gamut from ritual law to family law to economics and more. It has texts that have been used as proof texts for society, bioethics, respect for elders, equality in the marketplace and so much more. The chapter, and this section, is often referred to as the Holiness Code, for it really is an answer to the question that so many ask: “how can I live a sacred Jewish life”? The answer: follow the text in Leviticus 19.
How do we live a life of holiness? So many of us, at this stage of life, may be tempted to look back in life review and ask if we have done this? Also, in looking forward, how do we maintain and grow this arc of holiness? The Hebrew word that is at the heart or root of this concept is kodesh and that root is made up of three letters, the kuph, the dalet, the shin! K’D’SH Can these letters give us a sense of how we can live that ideal of holiness? Here is a brief idea of three values that, when lived together, may lead to a life of holiness.
That first letter, the kuph. I suggest can stand for the word k’hilah, or community. More powerful than any theological concept, especially as we age, is the power of being part of a community. This was proven again in Covid. Just this week, the Pew Research people released a study that again demonstrated that people who affiliate with a religious community are far more likely to have greater feelings for other human beings. We need people, relationships and thus community. It is community that helps define us and support us. A growing number of studies has shown that as we age, belonging to some community is a key factor in maintaining mental and physical health as well as longevity.
The dalet represents the Hebrew word dugma, or example. This follows on the idea of community in that we are charged to live a life of example. People are watching. Our children and grandchildren, friends, and family watch what we chose to do and how we chose to live. That is why so many Boomers have, at our stage of life, chosen to “give back” to community, each in their own way. We know that in getting involved in living a life of example, of living a life of mitzvah we who give back receive as much, if not more, than the recipient of the deed.
Finally, the shin can stand for the concept of shomer or guard, but guard in the sense of self care and taking care of our self, mentally and physically. We do not take enough time to celebrate the idea of taking care of our own self as we attempt to live. SO many of us are now active caregivers. Increasing numbers, in the next decades, will be the recipient of care. We have come to know how vital staying healthy, eating well, getting enough rest and respite is in our self-care, for to live a life of vitality we need to take care of our own self and soul.
So, just a thought this Shabbat on a formular for holiness. Being involved in and with a community, living a life of example and self-care.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard Address

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There are many layers to this week’s portion. We are steeped in ritual instructions from sacrifices to Yom Kippur and we end with a very challenging chapter that details a variety of prohibitions that often speak to sexual taboos. But I wanted to raise one small item that appears at the very beginning of the portion. In Leviticus 16:2 we read: “God spoke to Moses: Tell Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die, for I appear in the cloud over the cover”. The context of the verse is that it follows the death of Aaron’s sons who brought, several portions ago, “alien fire” and were killed.
The curtain! Aaron cannot just access this special area when he feels like it. There is this curtain. A while ago we read that Moses was prohibited from seeing God’s face as God placed a hand to block the view and we also see other instances of coverings being used to hinder the view of God. Why? One can reflect on the Wizard of Oz and the curtain that hid the reality of who the wizard was. What hinders us from “seeing” the sacred? Is it a message that to truly embrace God or the sacred in life we must pull back that which prohibits us?
In a collection of comments by Martin Buber, Rabbi Dennis Ross writes” “On the significance of the curtain that blocks admission to the sacred, Buber relates how Rabbi Eliezer of Koznitz teaches that when a window curtain is closed, there is nothing to see. But when a person draws open a curtain, a beloved can gaze in. The physical and spiritual curtains of daily life allow or shut of access.”* I ask you to think about this image as it may relate to our lives now. Watching the news shakes us. There are, it seems, so many “curtains” that are preventing so many from honest discussion of issues. There is a paucity of wisdom amid a sea of information. Likewise, so many of us, in our personal lives, stay impacted by the curtains of issues and beliefs that we keep shut, not allowing other ideas or opportunities for understanding to enter. Are so many imprisoned by the curtains of belief or ideology?
Can members of our generation, possessing a wealth of life experience, who have lived through times of tumult, can we have the courage to pull back the curtains and engage in honest conversations? As you engage the study of Torah this Shabbat, maybe we can ask what barriers, curtains, veils, masks hold us back from seeing the sacred, in each other, in life, in opportunities for understanding. Many things can be true at once. The curtains of ignorance keep the light of understanding out. We cannot afford this. Just read history!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address
• “A Year with Martin Buber”. Rabbi Dennis S. Ross. JPS p.125

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What an unreal time! This week, at our sederim, how many of us were concerned with that fourth child, the one unable to ask, or did not even know the right questions! As we look around at the state of the world, from Israel/Gaza to our own college campuses, with so much media, can we not help but wonder about history? Wasn’t it Santayana who reminded us that if we do not study and understand history we will relive it? There is a message about this that we can see in the special reading for Shabbat Chol Ha’Moed Pesach. From Exodus 33:21-23. Moses is in dialogue (so to speak) with God about leadership and this “stiff=necked” people. God, showing favor to Moses, tells him that God’s presence will be revealed to him and instructs Moses to go to a cleft in a rock so that Moses is shielded by the hand of God. “Then I will take My hand away and you will see my back, but My face must not be seen”. (Exodus 33:21-23) Well, that is a powerful image. God’s face is hidden by his hand, like a mask.What is God afraid of? Moses only gets to “see” after God has passed. Maybe this is another message about the importance of history, or as another philosopher put it, we live forward but understand backwards. But now, in our media age, with a promiscuity of information, we have so little wisdom. Maybe it is time to embrace a serious study of history so that, like Moses, we can see what was in order to understand what is and prepare for what may be.
SO few students study history. Our “history” is all too often recorded in 30 second sound bites, Tik-Tocked bits or cable biased controlled talking heads. With so much at stake now, we can ask if our generation, Boomers, may be the last generation to have some sense of history and if so, who will teach our story to the coming generations? The Middle-East conflagration needs to be viewed in historical context. It is part of a larger global re-configuration that is emerging as we speak. The huge changes in our American Jewish community are also a part of a historical context, where are our grandchildren learning this? Maybe, as the senior members of our time, we need to assert our life experience to give some historical context to what is happening now.
These are challenging times, make no mistake about that. Our own community is divided in ways we have rarely seen. It is easy to give in to despair and wrap ourselves in a cloak of anxiety and fear. Yet, let’s remember that our tradition, and the seder, counters this. The seder ends in hope. “Next year in Jerusalem”! Even if you do not take that literally, it is a symbol that we, as a Jewish community, always have hope. The Haftorah for this special Shabbat, from Ezekiel, offers the image of a rebuilt Israel, and so symbolically, there is always hope. The service ends with Alenu, a prayer that speaks to hope. So, in the middle of this trauma that we are witnessing, we cannot give up on the hope that reason will prevail. But, still we do ask, who will come forward to teach these lessons? Where are the Moses figures who ask the important questions, do not fear to confront reality and have the courage to lead and teach. For this we still wait, and hope.
Shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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The issue of last Shabbat, the outbreak of skin eruptions, is concluded this week with rituals designed to cleanse and purify everything from houses to people who have been made “unclean” due to discharges of the body. Notice the taboos regarding blood. The priest shall act as the medical expert in these instances and the purification rituals speak to superstitions and fear. The portion presents us with interpretive challenges and much of the classical interpretation of both portions (often linked) has to do with the issue of gossip and lashon ha’ra.
Let’s look for a second at this issue of purification. Water again is important, and we all know that water is a modality of cleansing across multi religious traditions. Just look at the mikvah or the water pitcher at the house of mourning or next week, the ritual of washing the hands as the seder begins. Indeed, this linkage this year is direct for this Shabbat is, in our tradition, Shabbat Ha’Gadol, the great Sabbath that comes right before Passover. Passover and the seder is, as you know, our re-enactment of the Exodus and the metaphor of the Wilderness experience. Can it be a festival of spiritual cleansing? That is an idea I want to put forth to us this week. For many, we begin this symbolism of cleansing by cleaning out the leavened products from our home. Can this be the opening to a personal spiritual cleansing?
This idea may seem foreign to many of our modern, sophisticated people. But wait! As we gather around the table next week to recite the prayers, share the rituals and, we hope, dine on delicious food; will it be possible to ask those in attendance what they need or wish to let go of? The seder remains the most dynamic of all our rituals. Each year there is more added to it to reflect the world in which we live. This year will be no different as so many will include prayers for the release of hostages and meditations on the war in Gaza as well as prayers for peace, especially considering last weekend’s attack.
Many families do pause and ask people to reflect on what they are grateful for. Why not also ask what feelings, thoughts, actions people need to shed to remain spiritually (and maybe physically) healthy. Opening the door for Elijah may also symbolize the opening of our souls to a sense of liberation from the thoughts, actions, relationships, and situations that “enslave” us. A recent article in magazine “The New Scientist” by Corey Keyes of Emory, noted a stage of feeling called languishing. It is “the absence of well-being. It is when people feel they have nothing positive going on in their lives…They describe it as being numb or dead inside”. Can this festival of freedom be a springboard to reconnecting the languishing to a sense of living? This is a discussion that fits well into the flow of our celebrations. Passover, and the seder as a ritual of cleansing that which enslaves us and thus allowing us to live and not just exist.
Shabbat shalom. Chag Sameach
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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This Shabbat we meet one of the more challenging portions in Torah. Indeed, this week’s portion and next week’s portion, which at times are linked as a double portion, are often the bane of bar and bat Mitzvah students. How do we make a D’var Torah on skin eruptions and the like? No doubt, this will come up a lot over the next few weeks Torah study classes. But the genius of Torah is that we, each week, are given the invitation to have the text “speak to us”.
In an introductory essay on this portion, Rabbi Gunther Plaut (z’l) discusses the nature of the disease associated with tza’ra’at. He notes that it emerges gradually, and the patient often experiences a “loss of sensitivity to pain”. Now, let’s let this text speak to us and reflect on the society in which we are living. We look at a society in which civility has almost disappeared, where intolerance is tolerated, and at times praised. Antisemitism is on the rise and some of the basic freedoms that many of us marched for fifty years ago, are now being destroyed, as we are seeing in the challenges to a woman’s right to have a say over her own body. Is our tza’ra’at a disease of modern life, an affliction that has produced unusual changes in society, gradually over time and that has numbed the public to its danger?
Our generation has witnessed and participated in so much social change. Now, as we age, many of us ask each other “how did we get here?”. How strange that this week people of all backgrounds came together to watch an eclipse, but immediately forgot that we are all inter-related and inter-connected on this small blue planet. How many of us have lost friends or have had strained relationships because of this modern tza’ra’at? There is a disease, an affliction that has infected our world and our challenge is to see how we can avoid getting infected. There is no masking or social distancing and certainly no vaccine, save an injection of common sense. With everyone running to and hiding in their own silos, legitimate dialogue between people who may disagree over an issue (or issues) has ceased to be relevant. What we must try and do is run counter to these trends. Hard as it may be, let us try to remember the teaching of our tradition which speaks to the dignity of each person, even if we do not agree. And this is getting harder!
We stand as a social order infected by this disease of mistrust, misinformation, and fear. So, let’s also be reminded of the following words from Heschel, written years ago, but the meaning of which rings ever so true today. “The central problem of this generation is emptiness in the heart. The decreased sensitivity to the imponderable quality of the spirit, the collapse of communication between the realm of tradition and the inner world of the individual. The central problem is that we do not now how to think, how to pray, or how to cry, or how to resist the deceptions of the silent persuaders. There is no community of those who worry about integrity.” (“Between God and Man”. P.251)
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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A curious portion awaits us the Shabbat. We begin with the detailed instructions for a public ceremony to consecrate the priesthood. There is an elaborate rite with sacrifices/offerings and the elevation of Aaron. This elaborate ritual is tarnished quickly by Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Abihu, who bring “strange fire” to sacrifice and, as a result are killed. There is a very powerful and, in many ways, disturbing passage that follows these deaths as Aaron hears of the death of his sons and is silent. The story is found in Leviticus 10: 1-11.
For years commentators have struggled with this story. What does esh zarah really mean? Strange fire? Alien fire? Was the punishment equal to the alleged crime? But the silence! I ask you to think on this idea for the Shabbat. Silence. There are many ideas associated with silence. As we get older, some seek a quieter, more contemplative life, a life that shuts out the “noise” of the outside world. We try this when we meditate.
Was Aaron so overwhelmed by the news that he could not speak? Surely some of us have been in that situation when we receive news that was unexpected, and words fail us. Is this story another one of the Bible’s reminders of the need for rules and regulations, after all, there was a right way and time to offer sacrifices. Did Nadav and Abihu violate those rules? Was it another attempt by brothers/sons to seek power and influence over their father? Was it so overwhelming that Aaron just surrendered to the power of this God to whom they just dedicated their lives?
How do we respond to silence? What can it mean? Can it mean acceptance? Can silence really be a way of accommodating uncomfortable situations? Can remaining silent in the face of evil really be a way of allowing that evil to proceed? Or can silence be a way of being polite, as many of our parents told us that “if you cannot say something nice about someone, stay silent”. Or, as so many clergy have experienced, sometimes in moments of crises, silence is the best response, presence is at times better than words, as one’s presence often conveys more comfort and support than any words can.
This Shabbat, this portion seems to be inviting us to take some time and reflect on silence, its power and meaning in our lives.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we return to a major theme of Leviticus, the rites and procedures relating to the sacrificial system in Biblical times. Remember, this system is thousands of years old and disappeared after the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. The rites and procedures are complex and, for many, represent an antiquated and primitive form of worship. However, as with all our texts, we need to step back from the literal and allow the text, as the blessing for Torah study reminds, to “speak” (la’asok) to us in our contemporary context.
So, in that sense, let me suggest we look this week at Leviticus 6: 5.
This text, which begins our portion, tells us that the offering shall remain on the altar all night until the morning “while the fire on the altar is kept going, do not extinguish it” The Hebrew of this part of the verse reads lo tukad bo. What can we make of these words today? Can these words bring us any message at this stage of life? Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) in his “Living Each Week” (p.206) cites a comment by Rabbi Shneur Zalman, who saw these words as “do not extinguish it”. So, Rabbi Zalman, writes Twerski, said that “these words can also be interpreted “You must extinguish the lo, the negative”. In other words, “rid yourself of negativism”. An interesting suggestion for our world when we are confronted by so much negativity. It is a challenge to let go of the negative emotions and feelings that so often overwhelm us, yet studies have shown that this approach to life harms us. But it is a challenge!
An even more challenging interpretation can also be gleaned from these opening verses that speak of not allowing the flame to be extinguished. Twerski also notes the comment that the flame of the altar can be seen as a symbol of the flame of life, or devotion to life that rests within each of us. He notes that these verses can remind us “that the flame of the altar should burn within the person”. This is even more of a challenge for many, whose life seems to have lost that flame of passion and love of life itself. We see this is some people who seem to have just given up on living. Their passion for living, their zest for accepting new challenges or learning has gone out, they exist but do not live. Yes, there are many circumstances that impact our ability to keep that flame of life burning. Indeed, when one dies, it is as if that flame leaves the body and as a body ebbs, one can almost sense the flame of life dwindling. But, as Judaism, teaches, until those last moments, we have been given the freedom, right, ability, permission to never stop stoking that flame of life. In this way, we honor the sacred and our place in the continuing unfolding of life.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F Address

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Vayikra welcomes us to the Book of Leviticus. This is, as many of you know, a book largely of law and instructions aimed at the priesthood. Indeed, this portion looks a the laws associated with bringing offerings to the sanctuary. There are details for the variety of offerings that may be brought, who brings them etc. On the surface, this portion may seem very forthright and matter of fact. Yet, if we step back and allow the text to speak to us, we may discover issues that speak to us at this stage of life.

Take for example the “call” that begins the portion. There is much literature now on how we engage life as we age. There is this tension between existing and living. Judaism, as we have discussed, “calls” each of us to live life, the embrace it in its fullest and not fear to grow and learn and reach for the new. Yes, it may get harder as we age for a wide variety of reasons, each of us is being “called” every day to give thanks for life and to live it. Part of this may be dranw from the word used int he text for offering or, in some texts, sacrifice. The Hebrew is korbon, kuf, bet, nun is the root and it also have the meaning of drawing near.

For many of us, as we get older, we draw near to spiritual issues, concerns and desires. We often have enough material goods to satisfy our basic, and even beyond basic needs. But what of the issues of meaning and purpose? We come to a place in life that these spiritual questions become increasingly meaningful. The portion can give us an insight into this by looking at the menu of offerings/sacrifices that are discussed. We do not have this system in place, obviously. But, step back and see what these offerings can mean. They provide a type of spiritual practice, and while they usually spoke to the priestly class, we can, without too much difficulty, see in them a call to create our own spiritual practice. What that practice is will be determined by each individual. It may involve, prayer, Mitzvot, mediation or any combination oif these and other practices that place us within a context that allows us to relate to that which is beyond our own self.

It is never too late to begin such a practice. Some people use prayer, some mantras, some nature and some create their own. It is an offering of our own soul, daily, that allows us to focus, be grounded and centered. It allows us to remember the aspect of gratitude for being alive, and to celebrate that reality, for as we age we become all too aware of life’s fragility and temporal nature. So this portion invites us to be open to responding to the “call” of the sacred, that which links us to the power and reality that we are part of a greater whole, a link in a chain of tradition that binds generation to generation.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come to the end of Exodus this week. The portion, Pekude, continues the details recitation of instructions for the Mishkan. The construction is completed, and Moses blesses the people who had done the work. “And when Moses saw that they had performed all the tasks—as God had commanded, so they had done—Moses blessed them” (Exodus 39:43) The people are blessed! A Talmudic attempt to place the words of the blessing stated that “May it be God’s will that the Divine Presence rest upon the work of your hands.”

There is a message for us in this. In his book on the works of Mordecai Kaplan, Rabbi Steven Carr Reuben notes a comment in Talmud Pesachim in which the rabbis taught that we cannot in life rely on miracles. “we are no longer to rely on divine intervention to solve our challenges. Simply the action of bringing the sacred into our lives, our work, and the world itself is in our own hands.” (A Year with Mordecai Kaplan: Rabbi Steven Carr Reuben. P.88) This is very reflective of one of our favorite passages from Deuteronomy, 30:19, the famous “therefore choose life” passage. That too reminds us that what we decide to do in this life does determine who we are. We do not rely on some miraculous intervention, rather the “miracle” is often the result of hard work and dedication to a belief or cause or problem.

The creation of the Mishkan in the wilderness or the Temple in Jerusalem, or the goal that you set for yourself or a change in the society in which we live—none of these were or can be brought to reality without hard work and dedication of individuals. Think back on our own life experiences. How many times was a goal reached by just prayer? How many times was that same goal reached by hard work and focused dedication, aided often by like-minded people and dedicated mentors and friends. This is one of the great truths and messages of Judaism. Prayer without action/deeds will usually result in wasted effort. Prayer embraced by action, often achieves that desired goal.

As Moses blessed the workers so we often then bless the people who have helped shape our own life journey: teachers, friends, parents, mentors…for we all are the result of those relationships, relationships that have helped build the mishkan that is each of us.

Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek:

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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The older I become, and the more I realize the restlessness of my soul, the more I accept for myself the Day of Rest. *

This week’s portion continues the lengthy number of chapters that outline the construction of the Mishkan. We meet Betzalel, the chief architect and manager of the project and are reminded again, as we saw in previous portions, of the call for people to be part of this epic undertaking as “their heart so moved them”. Yet, a curious part of this portion, often overlooked, is the very beginning.

In Exodus 35:2 we read that we shall work six days, but that seventh shall be a “sabbath of complete rest” (shabbat shabaton). No work shall be done. If you do, then death is the punishment. Quite a penalty! But a comment in Etz Hayim clarifies this as a death of the soul and thus “they become dead to the spiritual dimensions of life”. (p.552) Think about that for a moment considering our world today. In an ideal world, we would all observe some aspect of Shabbat. Indeed, there are some aspects of our community that do that, to the best of their ability. But, as for the overwhelming numbers of our community, we do not.

That is why that Buber quote above strikes a note. We are all so busy in so many ways constructing our life, that we often lose track of the need to have a Shabbat for our soul. It may not be an entire day, but there is a realization as we get older that, as busy we may be, there is a need to allow our bodies and souls to recharge and rest.

I know many people of our generation, busy and active, who come to the realization that their bodies tell them that there is a need to slow down a little and recharge. Thus, this idea of a Shabbat can be, and is often reexamined and reinterpreted for individuals depending in the context of their lives. Many of us are learning to deal with aspects of loss that all too often demand that we see a personal Shabbat in new ways.

Thus, a message for us this Shabbat, drawn from the first verses of the portion is a not-so-subtle reminder that we all need, in our own way, or as our heart tells us, to take some time for us, for our soul to recharge and to celebrate the life that we have been given.

Savor those moments and Shabbat shalom.

Rabbi Richard F Address

(* = “A Year With Martin Buber”. Rabbi Dennis Ross. JPS, p.94)

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Waiting! That is what the Israelites were challenged by in this week’s portion. Moses, who had guided them through the flight from Egypt, was gone. Weeks passed with no word. He had gone to this mountain and had sent no word of his return. Leaderless, on their own, the Israelites turned to Aaron and demanded he do something, and thus the Golden Calf.

This historical connection for this passage can probably be seen in 2 Kings 12:28-33 when, as the Solomonic empire dissolved into a war between Israel and Judea, Jereboam of Israel erected calfs at shrines and proclaimed them as gods. History aside, this event in the week’s portion is a seminal and transitional moment in the story of the Israelites journey.

What can we make of this? How can it speak to us, in our generation? As you may have studied, there are volumes of commentaries on the Calf. Rabbi Marini Chernow, writing in a Musar commentary, reflected on the anger the Israelites must have been feeling as being left alone for weeks. The commentaries remind us of the danger of making decisions in anger. But the message of feeling left alone, and having to wait, but not knowing for what; that we can all relate to. What have we felt in those moments? How often, when feeling totally alone and cut off, have we wished for some tangible sign that we are not alone. Maybe it is like those moments when we were children when mom or dad left and we had no concept of time, so we felt abandoned, alone!

Rabbi Mary Zamore, writing for the URJ, channeled a comment attributed to Judah HaLevi that the Israelites were still dealing with the loss of tangible gods (from Egypt) so, in this vacuum, they returned to what they knew as they sought to transition from “a world of polytheism to one of monotheism centered on a deity without form or body.”

There are psychological theories of this feeling of loss of attachment to a “parental” figure can be applied to the Israelites’ “loss” of their “parental” figure of Moses. Perhaps the Calf is a symbol of our fear of being alone, alienated from loved ones and searching for something, or someone to connect with? Do we all yearn for our own attachment to something or someone? In this era of loneliness and isolation, what or whom do we hold on to?

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Take a look at one of the opening verses this week. In Exodus 28:3 we read of the instruction to bring forward Aaron and then instruct “all who are skillful, whom I have endowed with the gift of skill, to make Aaron’s vestments, for consecrating him to serve me as priest”. OK, straight forward, even if a bit awkward translation-wise. Yes, the overwhelming thrust of the portion this week concerns making the clothing for the priesthood and especially the high priest. There are tons of comments on how “clothes make the person” as well as the curious “choshen mishpat” that Is described in 28:15.

But, as I was looking at this portion, somehow, I became focused on this verse 3 and the curious translation of the Hebrew chochmai-laiv. Many translations have the word skillful. Even a few words later the phrase ruach-chochmah still us worded as skill. If you look at the Plaut translation, there is a small note on this verse which says that this phrase is an “idiomatic translation of chochmah, literally “wisdom” (p.618) Interesting to equate the idea of the wisdom of the heart with skill! Of course, the theology of the Torah has the fact that God created this spirit (ruach) of wisdom, but seemingly not in everyone, for the beginning of the verse states that you need to use only the skillful of people.

I began to think then of the idea of what this means if we just looked literally at the Hebrew and saw the translation as those with a “wise heart”. What could that mean? What does it mean to have a wise heart, a heart whose spirit is wise? Let you mind play with that for the Shabbat? Does this echo the idea from last Shabbat of the value of our own life experience?

It seems, even in the verse the way it is translated, that not everyone is endowed with this chochmai-laiv! What lessons in life teach us of the value of developing a heart of wisdom? And what is wisdom after all?

Let me suggest that what this could mean for us as we get older is that we come to understand that a wise heart has nothing to do with academics, as you know. Rather, this is the way we chose to live out lives now. Do we live a life defined by compassion, gratitude, justice, and love? Do we make decisions based not on how we think, but how we feel, checking in with our heart as well as out head? Has our longevity helped redefine what it means to be wise?

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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What does it take to build the sanctuary? This week’s portion will instruct you, in great detail, on the building of God’s house in the Wilderness. This reflects the Temple in Jerusalem, we think, and there is much to discuss regarding the architecture, the engineering, and the placement of this portion in the Torah.

The portion begins with the instruction to bring “gifts” to create the sanctuary, a building that will allow God to dwell among the Israelites. There are many comments about this concept, especially relevant today given the changing nature of Jewish life, as to the need for a building to meets God’s presence, or if that feeling is available anywhere, at any time. No doubt some discussion at your weekly Torah study will look at this.

But it occurred to me that we may also wish to look at this idea of a gift, the gifts that are to be brought by each according to their ability. What gift do we bring as we get older to these discussions. For some observers, the elderly become invisible, and the “gift” of our presence can be cumbersome. What I suggest we consider this Shabbat, is the gift that we can bring to our family, community, and congregation of the years that we have lived and the experiences that we have shared.

A great sadness of so many of our institutions is that the collective wisdom of life experience of elders is so often ignored. I recently was doing a session at a congregation as part of a scholar in residence visit and we observed that the collective wisdom and experience of the people in that room could total centuries. They have lived history, experienced life and overcome a myriad of challenges that so many younger people face with trepidation and concern. Why not allow these generations to learn from each other.

We pay the price of ignoring the past. We all know that. Think about the elders in your congregation or organization and what they have lived through and what lessons of life they could transmit to the younger generations. Is that reservoir of experience being harvested or ignored? Afterall, look at Torah and be reminded how often when Moses was confronted with a challenge one of the instructions were to gather the elders and seek their input.

We bring the gift of that experience to every synagogue and organization. How often is it honored and shared?

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Editor’s Note: While Rabbi Address is lecturing on the road, we provide this encore d’var Torah from 2023.

The first Torah portion after Sinai, Mishpatim, goes directly to a recitation of social laws and norms. As you will see, if you review the portion, this is a detailed description of how a society should function; from ritual law to economic laws to the basic way we should treat others.

As I was reviewing this portion, I began to think about its impact on us and our generation. Let me suggest that as we get older and tap into the reservoir of our life experience, we come to the realization that in order to be in the world we need to understand that our existence is just not about each of us as individuals. We live with people, we exist in a society and in order for that society to function properly, for the greater good, we cannot make life just about us. The portion is asking: “is there a higher moral and ethical power than myself?”

In his book on the thoughts of Mordecai Kaplan, Rabbi Steven Carr Reuben notes Kaplan’s understanding that there is a higher law and authority than us. “God is understood as the power that establishes moral laws and expectations that transcend the arbitrariness of momentary human urges, no matter how passionately they are felt or expressed” (A Year With Mordecai Kaplan. Rabbi Steven Carr Reuben. P.69)

This statement and belief, drawn from this week’s portion, and indeed the entire concept of Torah, is especially meaningful. Many of us may recall that the Boomer generation was often labeled the “me” generation. Truthfully, there was a lot of that going around when we were younger, a belief that what I did had no impact on others. But we have lived a little, and for many of us we know that the world does not work like that. If we are only about us, then what are we? If we worship our self, we fall into idolatry, an idolatry of the self, which will end when we die. A motif of this portion, I think, is a belief that by living in society, by adhering to the social fabric, we find our place and our voice, a voice and place than can transcend our brief life.

The portion reminds us that the world is about being involved with others and caring for others such as the widow, the orphan, the people who may not share our social status but are all creatures of God. We know this throughout our liturgy as we are constantly reminded to care for the stranger because we walked that walk ourselves. The fight against isolating or blaming the “other” also emerges from this portion as Rabbi Jonathan Saks reminds us: “Dehumanise the other and all the moral forces in the world will not save us from evil.” (Essays on Ethics. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. P. 113)

We are part of a larger whole. We exist in society, in community and the path to fulfillment and peace rests, as the portion tells us, within the social framework of the society. Within that framework we are given the choice as to our own future. Again, choose well.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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So, we come to the famous portion Yitro. SO much to unpack! The portion begins with this famous dialogue between Moses and his father-in-law, Jethro, and the discussion on best to manage the Israelites. This is management 101 as the message of delegation rings true. (Chapter 18). However, the thrust and power of this portion is in the Revelation at Sinai (20).

No doubt many of your will delve into this at Torah study this week. I wanted to raise with you for our purposes the idea of revelation itself. The issue of the Biblical revelation is of great importance as the acceptance or non-acceptance of it is the great source of the difference in interpretation between traditional Judaism and non-halachic forms of Judaism. Do you believe in the Divine Revelation, or do you believe that the Torah was written by people. It stems from this 20th chapter.

But beyond that, what do we mean by revelation today? Look back in our life span. How has the sacred been “revealed” to each of us? Was it in some powerful “aha” moment, or slowly over time, when new truths were revealed and understood. Our life experience has, I am sure, revealed many truths as the various stages of life that we have lived. What were they? What did these moments teach us? How were we changed? How open have we been to see the mysterious acting in our lives?

There is one additional issue that I want to raise that also flows from this portion. In the Plaut commentary to the Torah, he cites a quote from Maurice Samuel that states “Just as Genesis is an explosive denial of the randomness of the physical universe, so the revelation at Sinai is a repudiation of the meaninglessness of history” (p. 518). History is part of Judaism. We are a people tied to history. Sadly, in our times, the study of history seems to have been left behind. We do so at our own peril. Every day we are witnessing Santayana’s famous cliché that “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”.

Be it personal history or Jewish history, it is necessary to look and study what has been “revealed” to us, learn from it, so we may make choices that sanctify life.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This year, this is not such a simple portion. Yes, it is the “Song of the Sea” and so many congregations will, this Shabbat, have “Shabbat Shira”, a Sabbath of song, celebrating the passage in Torah where we find the “mi chamocha”. (15:11). Miriam dances with her timbrel as that section closes. There is the “miracle of the parting of the Sea of Reeds/Red Sea (14:21ff) and the beginning of the Wilderness experience.

But this year there is so much that is overwhelming our community that singing a song of a military victory may be, well, cautionary. For as the Wilderness experience begins the Israelites come to the Waters at Marah. “They came to Marah, but they could not drink the water of Marah because it was bitter; that is why it was called Marah” (15:23)

How symbolic of the Torah that we meet bitterness this Shabbat. The challenges of what we are facing as a Jewish world, both in Israel, in the USA and worldwide have left a bitter taste in so many. How can we manage this reality? There seems to be no “Nachshon” to lead us through the perilous times we live in. Has the bitterness of the present challenge begun to turn people against each other?

In a prescient commentary, Rabbi Abraham Twerski (z’l) in his “Living Each Week”, cites a comment by the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism. The Baal Shem Tov looks at the word for bitter and says that one could read the verse and have the “they” refer to the Israelites. In other words: “They could not drink the waters of Marah because they, the Israelites, were bitter” (p.141). In times like, these, is there a danger that we become bitter, and in that, we lose faith in the higher values that may be at risk.

Are we in danger now, of too many divisions on the role of Israel, our place in that continuum, the place of the Diaspora, and the tension between ridding the evil that threatens the very fabric of existence and the loss, on all sides, of innocent life AND innocence itself.?

This portion and the “waters of Marah” may, if you wish this Shabbat, open that conversation again. In the text, God hears the Israelites grumbling and provides the means whereby the bitter water turned sweet. It will take more than that this time.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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As we enter this week’s portion, a portion that features the final plagues, we see the opening verse which has God commanding Moses to “go” to Pharaoh to recount all the signs and wonder and then we read in 10:2, “and that you may recount in the hearing of your sons and your son’s sons how I made a mockery of the Egyptians and how I displayed My signs among them—in order that you many know that I am God”. This verse is easily overlooked coming as it does before the drama of the final plagues and the command to celebrate the Passover (12). But I want to stop and suggest that this year this verse has a particular meaning.

We are told to tell the story of what happened in Egypt. Indeed, a central aspect of Passover and the seder is that we re-tell the story. Our story, the story of the Jewish people, the whole story. One of the questions that is being raised after October 7 is about what we tell, or do not tell, our children. Not about the war, but how we educate our children as to the meaning and drama and beauty of the Jewish story. Too many times in recent months have so many of my colleagues heard that we have failed to tell that story and, as a result, we have a generation of young Jews who do not know!

A frightening headline in a story in the December 9, 2023, issue of The Economist read “Old Hatred, new audience: Our polling shows one in five young people think the Holocaust is a myth”. We are seeing an aspect of the failure to tell out story played out on college campuses where we send our young people who, in many cases, are woefully unprepared to meet the anti-Israel wave of protests and encounters.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z’l) pointed out the interesting fact in this portion that Moses is called to tell the story before the story happens. After all, the context of the Torah portion is before the Exodus. Sacks notes that this is important by writing: “Forget where you came from and why, and you will eventually lose your identity, your continuity, and raison d’etre. You will come to think of yourself as the mere member of a nation among nations, one ethnicity among many. Forget the story of freedom and you will eventually lose freedom yourself.” (Essays on Ethics. P.94)

This verse also speaks to many of us who are grandparents. We hold a special status and have an impact, or can have an impact, on our grandchildren. With the changes in the Jewish family that we now see, grandparents may be more important in passing our traditions, values, and story on that our adult children who are these grandchildren’s parents.

This portion is filled with great drama. Yet, I urge you to take a few moments to consider how we can continue to tell the story of the Jewish people, our history, customs, and culture so we may continue to stand proud and strong.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we meet a challenging and, in some ways, complex portion. Va’era opens with a recitation of some of the various names of God and goes on to open a discussion on free will vs God’s control. Pharaoh’s heart was “hardened” in response to Moses and Aaron and the tradition discussed who really was in control of that and, more importantly, why?

Yet, I wanted to mention a verse that speaks to our generation. In 7:7, we read “Moses was eighty years old and Aaron eighty-three when they made their demand on Pharaoh”. Now even if you see Torah as symbolic language, we are impressed by the age of Moses and Aaron. How many eighty-year-old people are ready to mount the barricade and confront leadership?

The message I hope you can take from this is echoed in a comment that is found in the Etz Hayim commentary (p.357): “The reference to Moses’ age might remind us of the potential contribution of the elderly to our society, the sharing of their wisdom and experience, and their ability to take on new challenges and responsibilities.”

Let me suggest that this commentary is very relevant to us. In many areas of our society people our age are made to feel invisible or marginalized just because of age. Jewish tradition reminds us that life experience is an asset and that we need to judge everyone on their own terms…just because someone is eighty does not mean that their value is diminished.

Rabbi Brad Artson, writing in myjewishlearning.com, reminds us of the Pirke Avot passage that states that at age 80 we have “strength” and that this strength “comes from experience and completion”. In reflecting on a statement by Rabbi ibn Ezra, Artson notes that in the 7:7 verse ibn Ezra “sees the statement of Moses and Aaron’s old age as highly complementary. Not only do they not hide their age, but it is a source of pride”.

Our tradition understands each person must be taken on their own terms. This portion contains many issues, but I wanted to remind all of us that the model of leadership at any age is always present. Moses and Aaron confront Pharaoh and despite the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart, in the end, prevail.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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One of the most famous verses of Torah leaps out at us this week. “There arose a new king over Egypt who knew not Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). I will leave the analyses of who that new king (Pharaoh) to your Torah study session this week, but, as I was looking at this verse, and the portion, I thought about our own lives and how many times we have been met with new challenges for which we were unprepared. The name of the portion is Shemot, names; and so, I thought as to how many times in our life have we met situations in which our “name” has changed.

Let me suggest that this is quite relevant to our times now. SO much has changed in recent years and continues to change at a rapid pace. Many of us, at times, may feel that we are strangers in a new and strange land. As we get older, can we begin to make sense out of all this change and look to see how we can manage who we may be in light of this age of transition? Are we the same person that we were some years ago, or do we come to recognize that as much as the times have changed, so have we, each in our own way!

David Brooks wrote an interesting column a while back for the Atlantic. He, noted that while our own aging may include some necessary losses, “aging can involve growth and improvement—of character, perspective, and overall happiness”. Indeed, the self that we become as we age tends toward feeling positive with a more secure sense of “agreeableness” and “conscientiousness”. How many people do we know—some who may be reading this now—who have learned how to let go of those issues and concerns that bound them, and thus hold on to those things, people and ideas that provide meaning, focus and a sense of peace.

One of the constants in all of this is change This Torah portion speaks to that as we see the birth of a new generation. Change is always with us, inviting us to evolve and grow and embrace each new day with a profound modeh ani. As this new secular year dawns, with all its challenges and with all of its possibilities, may each of us have the courage to see our own self and soul grow and evolve.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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A dictionary definition of legacy says that it is a “something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past”. In this week’s portion, the final one in Genesis, we see the foundation for our concept of legacy. We meet the deaths of Jacob and Joseph, and the intricate and, at times complex blessing of children by Jacob.

We also see the repetition of a major theme in Genesis with the switched hand blessing by Jacob of Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh. Again, the younger will emerge dominant over the older. The repetition of transgenerational family patterns is one of the key elements of Genesis and serves as a textbook on family dynamics. It is this issue of legacy that becomes a major issue for us this week. It is especially meaningful to us as we get older and begin to take stock of our own life and contemplate what our own legacy may be.

The question is what of us do we wish those we love and care for to take with them in their life? This is the power of memory. Yes, material things are very important, if you have the blessing of them. But more than the material is the spiritual. That is why the tradition emphasizes the aspect of our good name as a key attribute of our own legacy. How we are remembered is really our life beyond death. The death bed blessings of Jacob (chapter 49) form the textual foundation for what we call the Ethical Will, a practice that has been embraced by an increasing number of people. This is not the material legacies (homes, cars, money etc), but the blessings of how to live one’s life in a meaningful way. It is the gift we give future generations on how to deal with the challenges and changes we all experience. When you study the portion this Shabbat, let me suggest that when you get to 50:23, let that idea of “carrying the bones” settle over you. That is another way of looking at our own legacy. What shall our children and grandchildren, friends and associates carry of us into their lives?

One other idea to contemplate as well. Let me suggest that this idea of legacy is not just for individuals. It reflects on groups and, yes, even nations. This is not an easy time for the Jewish world. How many of us have struggled with what the legacy of Israel may be given the war? We do not know. But it is a question worth considering as we conclude this magnificent book of Genesis. Hazak, hazak, v’nitchazek

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Once again, we come to a portion that demands attention on so many levels. This is the portion that Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers. The drama and passion in the portion and the texts cannot be understated. Joseph’s immediate concern is not one of ego or triumph, but a simple question, born of longing, “is my father alive”? Despite his rise to power and influence, his Egyptian wife and children; Joseph seeks the knowledge that Jacob is OK.

Many would assume that in a similar situation; faced with meeting the very people who betrayed him, cast him into a pit and his imprisonment, Joseph would have sought revenge. But the pull of family and the healing power of time, like Jacob and Esau a few weeks ago, turned reunion into something positive. The text also introduces another theological perspective. This was all part of a master plan! In Genesis 45, Joseph reveals to his family the fact that all that happened was part of God’s plan. All that took place was in order to “save life”. It was because of God’s plan that I am now able to save lives because of the famine. As many have said and many believe, “everything happens for a purpose”.

Does this Torah portion ask each of us what our purpose is? Is one of the messages that of having, as we mature and are tested by time and circumstance, the wisdom to not be stuck in what was, but to focus on what can be? In asking about Jacob, does Joseph reveal his own personal and spiritual growth? “When Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, he also reveals himself to himself. At this moment of truth, Joseph perceives his life and identity in a whole new context.” (“Wrestling With Angels”: Naomi Rosenblatt. P. 368))

Finding one’s place with a family is often fused with challenges and underscored by change. Joseph in his maturation, is reminded that he is part of something greater than himself. He finds his purpose within his context, seeing the larger picture that transcends the immediate.

So this portion asks, have we found our purpose? Are we part of a master plan? And if so, whose plan is it?

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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As “they” say, “timing is everything”! Just ask Joseph in this week’s portion. From the pit in last week’s portion to the prison cell in this week’s, Joseph seems in trouble. But the story takes a turn when Joseph is able to interpret dreams for the Royal baker and cupbearer. As the story unfolds, word spread and when Pharaoh had two puzzling dreams, Joseph was called. Joseph, as commentaries note, says the power to interpret is not his, but that it comes from God (41:16). Much is made of this as a sign of Joseph’s maturation from egotistical youth who saw the world, and his brothers, bowing to him, now changed to a humbler and more mature person. Of course, some would argue that years in prison may have helped this maturation process. Another curious incident in this story is that after Joseph succeeds in serving Pharaoh and providing him with what Pharaoh’s dreams meant, Pharaoh acknowledges Joseph’s god (41:37-39).

As you know, Joseph is rewarded with power of Egypt’s economy, a wife and status. He assimilates into Egyptian culture, accepting his new name and even gives his children Egyptian names. (41:44-46). The challenge, of course, is the question of can Joseph every forget where he came from and who he really is? That begins to emerge as the portion moves to Canaan and Jacob’s demand that the brothers that remain go to Egypt to secure food during the famine, thus setting in motion the events of next week’s portion.

There is so much in Miketz to unpack. One lesson for us, I suggest, can be taken from the interpretation of the dreams of Pharaoh. Joseph creates the plan to save Egypt from the famine that was predicted. A plan was set in motion and carried out, saving people and society. We are at the stage in life when many of us look to the future and contemplate what plans we need to make for our stage of life. If we are fortunate to have the economic resources and family support, we can be somewhat comforted in the hope that our plans will be carried out. Indeed, the development of an end-of-life plan; advanced medical directive and health care proxy is a necessity in today’s world.

Equally important is the creation of a family “care-plan”, for example, who will take care of me if needed, what are my preferences for living arrangements etc. A challenge for many now is that many of our generation are what is called “solo-agers”; people who have no family and whose friends may be in the same situation.

Among the many messages in this portion, we can see a call to plan for contingencies we know may impact us. Joseph can be a model for us. Make the plan, revise it as needed and secure some peace of mind for yourself and your family.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion begins with the verse that Jacob “was settled in the land where his father had sojourned, the land of Canaan.” As I read this verse, I began to think about what that idea of “settled” could mean. It had a special ring to given the craziness of this week. It was one of “those weeks”! We have all had them. I began to think about so many of us who reach a time in life where we wish to be “settled”; and then real life takes over. In the Etz Hayim commentary, it cites a Rashi that says that “Jacob thought he was going to sttle down after all he had been through, but events would not permit him to”. (p.226)

The rest of the portion demonstrates the truth of the idea that we never really do know what will happen next. Jacob has to deal with his children’s jealous acts concerned his favorite son Joseph and then there is this issue with his son Judah and Tamar. Jacob’s life seems far from being “settled”. What a “retirement!”. Of course, we know many who may have retired from full time work, thinking of a more leisurely future, only to be tossed into new challenges by events that were unexpected, from health to family to maybe new life possibilities.

The Torah portion can be asking us if we are ever really settled in life? I think not. I think that one of the subtle messages of Vayeshev is that we are always subject to what I call the randomness of life. Yes, this is the old Yiddish expression of “man plans and God laughs”. How many of us have lived this? So once again we come to a recurring theme of Torah study: how do we choose to deal with the unexpected in life? We see this all the time and so many of our generation can look back from the perspective of life experience and see how the choices we have made helped crate the person we are now.

So as you study the portion this Shabbat, let yourself ask what that concept “settled”” may mean to you especially at this stage of life. I would not be surprised if, as you survey the people at the table, that the answers will be as varied as those who are there. We may never really be “settled” until we draw our last breath.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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My son loves wrestling. He loves it so much that he has corrupted my 11-year-old grandson to the extent that they watch together. How appropriate for this week’s portion. In contrast to our portion’s main character, Jacob; neither of them has been wrestling with an unnamed “ish” nor have they undergone any radical change of personality. This is the famous portion where Jacob, as he contemplates the reunion with his estranged brother Esau, wrestles with the “ish” at the river Jabbok, emerges victorious and as a result, undergoes a change in name and, as commentaries note, personality. This portion is filled with great lessons, moral challenges (the revenge of the brothers for the rape of their sister Dinah in chapter 34) and sensitive moments as Isaac dies (35:28) as does Rachel in childbirth (35:16-20).

However, I want to call you attention to a small passage that takes place immediately after the events of chapter 33 that tells us of the wrestling and the reunion of Jacob and Esau. The two brothers, who agreed to live their lives and be at peace with each other, move on. In 33:18 we read that Jacob, in his journey, “arrived safely in the city of Shechem”. The Hebrew has “Va’yavoh Ya’akov shalaim”, the last word having the root “shin”, lamed”, “mem”. That is the root we usually see translated as “peace” or the sense of “wholeness” (“shlaimut”) In many translations, safely is used. But let’s play with that for a second and see if the root meaning of peace or wholeness can teach us something.

In her commentary of Genesis called “The Beginning of Desire”, Aviva Zornberg looks at this passage to see in it an important message that resonates well with our generation. She sees in this “shalaim” growth and a sense of wholeness, wholeness of personality, growth into a new sense of self for Jacob as he grows up from the manipulated child to integrated adult. The wrestling scene was the transitional moment, his name changes symbolic of this maturation of the self. The message for us? How many times in our life have we had to wrestle with issues, choices, challenges, and change? How have those moments shaped who we are now? How many identities have we had to take on to get to where we are now?

The commentaries remark on this verse as a sense of fulfillment. In Genesis 28:21, as Jacob wakes from his dream of the ladder, he makes the statement that if he returns “safe” to his father’s house he shall follow God. A bargain made in the flush of knowing God was his place? A wish? The “safe” in 28:21 is also the same root for 33:18. Jacob has grown up. He has wrestled and prevailed. He returns to his father’s home “safe”, but really, whole. Have we done the same? This story of Jacob is a metaphor for each of us, for each of us undergo so many changes and we have wrestled with so much. Have we prevailed? Or do we still wrestle with who we are and what we wish to be?

Shabbat slalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Weeping in Ramallah for her exiled children
Was not the first time Rachel wept.
Blistering tears ran down her ashen face,
When Laban told her of his plan,
To put her weak eyed sister in her stead.

Her father did not know of love,
At least not the love that she and Jacob knew.
So begging him to let her wed for love,
Was to no avail.
Her father was the master in her world,
And any man, save Jacob, would be too.
So in her youthful pain she ran,
Blurting out her threat to tell.
But she was caught,
Held and guarded,
Till the wedding feast was past.

Confined, she wept at the deception,
Not understanding the balances on to which Jacob had been placed.
Not knowing that deception begets deception.
And the judgment was on him
(For an ill begotten blessing),
With an ill begotten wife.)
But what did Rachel know of balances
And mothers and sons who deceive fathers and brothers.
She only knew of longing and of love,
And did not care for ways a maiden
Could not fully comprehend.

At the wedding feast, her Jacob did not know,
The heavy veil concealed a father’s strategy.
The wedding tent was dark and his beloved,
Strangely silent.
Perhaps it is her modesty, he thought,
So much to learn about his lovely wife.
Yet his partner hid her face and said it was their custom.
And so he held her, loved her,
Her loving touch became the touch of Rachel,
But the voice was the voice of Leah.
More deception in a life of deception,
In a world where deceit meant living or dying.
Of having or not having.

It was fair. The world was putting things in order.
Jacob, who had deceived was now deceived.
Things were even, now
To all but Rachel,
Who fell to her knees,
And wept,
Outside her sister’s wedding tent.

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This is the portion starring Isaac. He becomes the transitional figure in the Patriarchal narrative. We meet the famous stories of the birthright and Isaac’s blessing of Jacob over Esau and the age old question that Isaac really did know exactly who he was blessing! Rebecca assumes a powerful supporting role in the portion, giving birth to “two nations” who continue to struggle! She lets her feelings be known regarding Esau’s choice of bride and, as a result, Isaac sends Jacob off to Rebecca’s family so that he may choose an acceptable wife.

There is a scene, however, in the middle of the portion that often gets overlooked. In chapter 26, we read the story of Isaac at the Wadi Gerar. “Isaac dug anew the water wells which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham’s death; and he gave them the same names that his father had given them.” (26:18). A son returns to re-establish the work of his father. There is something tender and powerful here. Is it the linkage of generations? Is it Isaac saying that these wells represent my family heritage, they are part of my legacy and thus, I need to make sure that the work of my father continues. This is a sense of the first prayer in the Amidah, that reminds of the generational legacy that we all carry. The avot v’imahot speak to need to honor the legacy of the past and, that prayer, like this verse, carries with it the hope that those who follow us, especially our children, will honor that legacy.

This little verse speaks to us as we get older. What shall our legacy be? What if we have no one to honor that legacy? How can we ensure that the moral and ethical lessons, our life experience, are passed on? No doubt many of us at this stage of life are contemplating just these questions as we ask what of our life do we wish to pass down to the next generations? Was Isaac honoring his dad by re-opening those wells? Curious act perhaps for someone who tried to kill you. Maybe it was the way to show by his act, that Isaac could surpass his father. The psycho-spiritual relationships of fathers and sons, mothers and daughters and all parents and children do get played out in so many ways. Even as we age, those voices from our past are always with us. Yet, an interpretation that fits so many of us rests on the premise drawn from the 5th Commandment to honor and respect.

In “Our Fathers’ Wells”, a commentary on Genesis, Peter Pitzele notes that Isaac “By repeating his father’s acts, he takes those one-time events and transforms them into a model or paradigm”.(p.149) Isaac builds on the work of his father and in doing so carries on Abraham’s legacy and becomes a living link for that legacy in the next generation. All too often, as we age, we come to realize, understand, and honor our parents. As Pitzele writes of his relationship with his father: “At last I can look back into my boyhood and recognize that he gave me access to great sources of illumination, or to change the metaphor, he showed me where the water was, and I saw him dig the wells.”(p.147)

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Chayai Sarah is a many layered portion, one that touches us in so many ways. It is the story of a family in transition, of the obligation of parents to children and other interesting questions. Sarah dies at the very beginning of the passage and many commentaries look at the cause as the trauma of learning of the just concluded Akedah. Abraham concludes the purchase of a burial plot, reminding us in today’s world of the importance of pre-need funeral planning. In a scenario that is played out often in our world, Abraham marries again, and his life goes on. The Patriarch fulfills a parental duty of the time in chapter 24 as he sends Eliezer out to find a wife for Isaac, who reappears in the text. Where has he been?

There is also an interesting issue in this portion that I raise with you. Sarah dies, as we said, at the beginning of the portion and is buried in that cave that Abraham purchased. The funeral? Look at 23:19, the text that just says that “And Abraham, buried his wife Sarah”.

No Isaac. No Ishmael. Fast forward to the end of the portion and 25:7-9. Here we read that Abraham died at 175, died “at a ripe age, old and contented” and then we read “His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him”. The two sons appear together to bury their dad, despite the estrangement. No sons are reported at Sarah’s funeral. Isaac and Ishmael appear in the text for the burial. Like so many times in our day and age, it is a funeral that may bring estranged family members together. They fulfill the mitzvah to attend to the ritual, then go their separate ways. One can only imagine, if you were staging this scene, what these men were thinking at that funeral!

Many of us have lived aspects of this portion. Some of you reading this have had to bury a spouse, to plan a funeral even as grief overwhelms you. Many may have, as did Abraham, found, after time, the ability to move on in life and re-marry or find companionship. Some of us may have had to deal with (or still deal with) aspects of estrangement within our family systems. In every family journey we face the challenges of moving on. This portion speaks to so many aspects of our own journey, but a theme continues to be the responsibility of family members to take care of each other, of parents to provide for children and for adult children to honor their parents. These themes become so much more powerful as we get older.

This portion is in many ways symbolic of man times in our life. It is a portion of transition. Abraham and Sarah die, the text will move in rapid fashion to Isaac, the next generations. What of Abraham and Sarah does Isaac carry with him into his future? Where shall his descendants and those of Ishmael again meet? The transitions of families and each of us are part of life, just as they are part of Torah.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Vayera! A portion that will challenge us, even in the best of times. But this week, well, it hits us with a gut punch. The portion is filled with powerful scenes, from the three “visitors” to Abraham’s tent and the promise of Isaac to stories of total family dysfunction with Lot and his daughters, Sara, Hagar, Ishmael, and Abraham. Of course, the concluding scene in chapter 22 is the haunting Akedah, the binding of Isaac. There is so much in this portion that speaks to our lives and the challenges before us.

Yet, no doubt, many who study this portion this Shabbat will go directly to Genesis 18:16-32. It is here that one of the great scenes in Torah takes place, the argument/discussion/confrontation between God and Abraham over the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The dialogue between them over saving innocent lives during disaster and destruction. The oh so timely verse, as if drawn from today’s headlines in 18:25: “Far be it from You to do such a thing, to bring death upon the innocent as well as the guilty, so that innocent and guilty fare alike. Far be from You! Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” The result of the discussion? The cities are destroyed, innocent and guilty alike!

It is always fascinating to so many of us that, week to week, the Torah somehow speaks to what we are living through. This question, in a variety of ways, is being asked daily. Some of it with passion, grief, compassion, and sensitivity, and sometime with violence and more evil. In the end of the scene God says if there are ten innocents, the cities will be saved. Not so then. But what of now? History has taught us that there are times in history when evil exists and raises its sword and to pacify it or ignore it only leads to more evil. Are we at that point now in the Middle East? Is that what the Torah is telling us? How many other moments Torah and history have we witnessed innocents killed along with the guilty? Human history is a recurring tale of woe. Can there be any way out of this too often repeated cycle? How shall we, a people called to a life of justice and mercy, of hesed ; how can we deal with Abraham’s question, a question that is being asked now, every day?

This verse, 18:25, is not easy to read or study. How do you react to this verse? How do you, can you protect the innocents while eradicating evil? Is there a difference in the words which appear in this section between Tzedek and mishpat? How can we understand this story in the light of the Gaza war? There are no easy answers. Yet, maybe, in some small way, as you discuss this portion and, I hope, these key verses, some small pathway can be shared that will allow us to move forward. It IS up to us.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is one of our most powerful portions. It is a portion of transition and prophecy. It contains many themes, from the “wife-sister” motif to the rite of circumcision, from the first covenant to the prophecy of slavery and redemption. We see Sarai’s infertility and the Hagar-Ishmael saga begin to unfold. And, to make sure that we see how relevant the Torah is, check out Genesis 14:11-20. It is the end of the story of the War of the Kings when Lot is taken captive and Avram mounts a rescue mission. Right out of the headlines?

Our portion begins with the famous “call” of God to Avram to lech l’cha: to go forth from his native land. There are numerous renderings of this “call”. But first, ask the question, why Avram? He is portrayed in the end of the previous portion as a son of Terah. He is not “righteous in his generation” as was Noah. Indeed, there is no definition of why Avram is called. Think about that for a moment. What can that mean for each of us?

Maybe, the Torah is teaching us that the “call” from the eternal is always available to anyone. No special training or position in life is needed. Maybe all that is needed is the willingness to answer! In answering, a person is literally moved from one sense of identity to another, from the comfort of what is, to the possibility of what can be. I don’t think we pay enough attention to the fact that, in a sense, Avram is “everyone”; a symbol of the each of us.

Can this portion speak to us at our age? I mean, other than Avram fathering Ishmael in his 90s! Perhaps this portion’s “call” to us is a call to be more self-aware of who we are, what we really wish for ourselves, and where we wish to be: what “land” we wish to go forth to? Judaism teaches us that growth is not the province of any one age, but is always open to us, if we choose to see it. Being aware of our own needs, wants, wishes and goals allows us, in many ways, to lech l’cha. “Many of the tools we need in order to age well and become the best people we can be may be summed up in one word: awareness. When we expand our awareness, we can identify our problem areas, think about solutions, and go for our objectives…Awareness is a unique life-processing activity without which we would live a poorer life, or no life at all. All of us are aware to some degree, yet we all have the potential to grow in awareness.” (“The Wisdom of Morrie”. Morrie Schwartz. ED by Rob Schwartz. P. 84,85)

Each of is being “called” to become more aware of our own authentic self so we may have the courage to go forth in our own unique tomorrow.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come this week to that righteous man “in his generation”: Noah. The portion is much more complex that meets the eye. What does it mean to be righteous in one’s generation? Is that a nod to judging things within their context? The text can be complex. Are the animals two by two or seven by seven? Does God change God’s mind after the flood and what is the nature of that post flood “covenant”? What can we make of the scene, post flood, of Noah’s sons and their reaction to his intoxication? And then, to add a little spice, we end the portion with the Tower of Babel!

There are many discussions in tradition on Noah and his name. The root of the name seems to indicate a sense of rest or comfort. The portion, as Aviva Zornberg discusses in her commentary on Genesis, includes puns on the name of Noah and Midrash includes a variety of interpretations and questions. Indeed, one of the questions raised is the fact that Noah, when called by God, accepts his role. The flood is coming and thus many innocent people will be killed. Why does Noah not argue for them, as Abraham will do for the people of Sodom? The commentaries also reflect on that famous “In his generation” phrase and what that could possibly mean. What does it mean to be righteous in our generation?

But we are living through unbelievable times right now. There is such a feeling of anxiety, and yes, even fear. To that end, this portion presents us with a symbol, the Keshet, the rainbow. It is a promise of hope. The rainbow as a symbol has a rich history and appears in many cultures, sometime symbolizing disaster and at others, victory. “Indeed, in as early a source as the Babylonian Epic of Creation, the god Marduk is said to have suspended his bow in heaven after vanquishing the rebellious Tiamat and her cohorts.” (“Myth Legend and Custom in the Old Testament”. Theodore Gaster. P. 131) Remember, that our Creation epic emerged, as many believe, from the Babylonian epic and that the god Tiamet (the deep, the ocean, the waters) finds its way into Genesis as the “chaotic waters” (Genesis 1:2 and the word t’hom)

In our portion that rainbow symbolizes a promise. It seals a covenant between God and Noah, and thus mankind, that God will no longer destroy us. Simply put, if we are to destroy mankind, we will do it! The rainbow, then, can be seen as a symbol of hope. It is a perfect symbol for right now, as we are hope deprived. Can we take a lesson from Noah? Let us try to focus on the reminder that WE are responsible for our acts, and that we do hold to power to destroy this world in our hands. It is what we choose to do that will determine our collective future. But, that Keshet exists in our story to hold out that eternal possibility of hope, that righteous people will come forward to bring us reason out of chaos. May this be so and may it be so speedily.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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How strange, in many ways, to begin the Torah cycle this week as Israel faces its most challenging moment in decades. What can one say about the idea of creation when so much is being destroyed? Will this be a pivotal moment in history when mankind, seeing the evil that we have witnessed on TV screens and social media, rises and pledges “no more”? Sadly, history seems to dictate otherwise.

But there are messages in this week’s portion that speak to us with a direction quite relevant to what we are seeing. This is a Torah portion that has within it some of the great and most profound questions of existence, not the least of which comes to us toward the end of the portion. It is after the stories of Creation, after the drama of Eden and the great expulsion. Look at Genesis 4. This is a tale of great moral challenge; it is the drama of Cain and Abel. It is the powerful verse of 4:9 that comes right after Abel’s murder by his brother, after God asks where Abel is, and Cain responds with: ha’shomer achi anochi? -am I my brother’s keeper?

This story is one of the great stories of the Torah. It is also one of the great human questions that haunts us daily. Are we responsible for our fellow human beings? How hard is it this week to even contemplate this question? In the face of the horrors of this week, how can we even begin to think of being responsible for other human beings? No doubt, those of you who will attend a Torah study this Shabbat may focus on this question. Is there any way we can begin to comprehend this question? Perhaps, as we are able to peer into the text, we can maybe see a pathway to meaning. But we have been trying for eons, with only slow progress.

Yet, the question begs the answer of how we may be able to create a theology of responsibility. The short answer to Cain’s response to God is “yes”, you are responsible for our fellow human beings. So much of history is a testimony to the fact that we have yet to believe this and practice it. Think about what would happen if we all answered that “yes” to God’s question. It is more than just saying “here am I” (heneni). This question is a call to act humanely, to see that tzelem Elohim in everyone. We are responsible and it is a call that most of society shuns. Lip service is never real service. Each of us is called to create our own particular theology of responsibility.

This invitation also stems from this week’s portion. This portion, with its’ opening theme of creation, is an invitation to partner with God, no matter how you choose to define that concept, in the work of creation. We do not do this alone (Genesis 2:18). Having the gift of life is a call to be responsible. So much of modern life is a focus on the individual. All too often we worship at the altar of personal autonomy. Yet, in a way, let me suggest that this portion, and the Cain-Abel drama, remind us that society can only progress is we work together and see this sense of communal responsibility. Failure to see this results in much of what we see today and the price for that failure rises daily.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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There is a well-known interpretation that notes that the last letter of Torah is a lamed while the first letter of Torah is the bet and those two letters for the Hebrew word lev, which means heart. This week we will end Sukkot with Simchat Torah and begin another Torah reading cycle. It is a curious juxtaposition in the coming days for as we end this year’s reading cycle, we do so with the portion V’zot Ha’Bracha which discusses the death of Moses. A powerful combination of texts and emotions will face us, ending, death and new beginning. In a sense, the texts re-enact life.

I wanted to explore this a little as these passages speak to our generation as so many of us are in transitions. All of us, in our own way, are greeting this new year and are concerned as to what the year will bring and how we shall fare. After all, as much as we wish to exert control over time, we know in our hearts that we cannot. I think that we can take some lessons from Simchat Torah well beyond the parade of scrolls around the sanctuary. The message I want to ask you to consider from this festival is one of renewal and redefinition of self.

I take this from that bet that begins Torah. It is closed at the top, at the bottom and in back, but open to the future. We have noted this before, but I wanted to remind us of this as I think this week and this celebration brings the message of renewal and redefinition back home to each of us. We all have the opportunity, even the invitation from tradition to write our own scroll, as the High Holiday liturgy reminded us. Consider the idea of invitation. We begin Genesis again. It is like tradition is inviting us to look again at the texts and thus, our own life. What do we wish to create in this new year that has dawned? What new experiences do we look forward to and what new relationships? What on-going relationships do we hope to continue to nurture? What estranged relationships can we hope to repair? As we get older, that line in Genesis 2:18 means so much more: it is not good to be alone and thus our relationships and community become more important than ever.

In this season of the harvest of our soul, we can also relate to this theme of renewal and redefinition in our liturgy. One of the ways we can understand the second prayer of the Amidah is to see the phrase m’chayai meitim as symbolic of opportunity we are given at this season, and indeed every day, to bring a new sense of life and purpose to our souls. While many of our community reject the literal meaning of the phrase to resurrect the dead, we can see the phrase as a metaphor for always having the possibility of change and growth open to us.

So many of our generation are re-engaging with sacred texts as they seek a more mature Judaism. In doing so, they find that when we become open to seeing the text in light of our own life experience, the texts take on new meaning. This is part of our renewing the Torah cycle. We will meet Torah this year differently than before because we are different.

Simchat Torah then is an invitation to embrace our own future. Like Avram in Genesis 12, we are being “called” to go into our future, a future that we cannot really know. But that is part of being human, the invitation to continue to grow, to learn and to be open to new experiences. The only barriers to that continued growth are the barriers we place upon our own self. And how shall we embrace this new invitation? With our lev, our hearts, for as we age one of the lessons, we begin to learn is that to walk into tomorrow supported by love and kindness to our self, our family and community will make that journey so much more meaningful.

Chag Sameach

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Hasidic saying: “For the unlearned old age is winter, for the learned, it is the season of harvest”

Chag Sameach Sukkot. We welcome the first of our “Pilgrimage Festivals” as it brings a sense of celebration so quickly on the heels of the High Holidays. We create our sukkot and fulfill the mitzvot associated with what was the harvest. Today, this festival is often allied with environmental issues as well as traditional celebrations of Torah, as the festival ends with Simchat Torah, and we end one cycle of Torah reading and immediately begin a new one.

The theme in many ways of this festival is harvest. The theme invites our age cohort to consider this concept as it relates our lives. We ask then, what can we harvest in our life? As many have discussed over the Holidays, time is becoming much more precious to us now. How many of us, sometime during the Holidays, began to reflect on the passage of time and thought of how much time we have left? So, as we celebrate the end of one cycle of life, Torah, and the beginning of a new one, is it any wonder that we may ask as to what we shall spiritually harvest?

Over the Holidays we taught a class that looked at the Midrash starring Honi. Part of the Midrash was around the recognition that we plant seeds by what we do in this life that bear fruit in a future that we may not see. This is a reminder that our actions do have an impact, that we do not exist as a totally isolated soul whose deeds have no impact on others. In truth, what we do in life carries with it great meaning. In a commentary on Torah by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z’l) he notes the study of longevity by George Valliant who speaks about all of us being “keepers of meaning”.

Let me suggest that this idea is of great importance as we reflect on Sukkot. We harvest values, beliefs, actions, attitudes, and approaches to life that in many ways were seeds planted in our souls by parents, friends, mentors and the like. Often, we are not aware of this until later in life. But think about the seeds of life you may have planted with students, friends, children, and grandchildren. Is this not another way of honoring and acknowledging the concept of l’dor v’dor: from generation to generation! In his classic book “From Age-ing to Sage-ing”, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi echoed this theme when he wrote: “From this perspective, harvesting has a purpose that transcends personal motives. When we recount our life stories and mentor young people, we transfer the contents and meaning of our experience into the global brain, raising the overall level of our cultural environment. In this sense, harvesting helps refine all that we have done into its highest essence, so that our individual lives serve as blessings for future generations.”

There is another take on this idea of looking at the festival as a time of our own spiritual harvest: rest and renewal. As we harvest those aspects of life that bring us meaning, let us also remind our souls that this is also a time of renewal. We begin a new Torah cycle and a message for our generation can be gleaned from this is that tradition reminds us that, no matter what age we are, we are never too old to keep learning. Indeed, our life experience enhances the learning. The maxim from our tradition and prayers that Talmud Torah k’neged kulam (the study of Torah leads to it all) is an eternal call that our engagement with texts is a life-long invitation to learn, study and plant new seeds that we hope one day will be harvested.

Sadly, in the everyday world in which we live, Sukkot is all too often an afterthought, coming as it does less than a week after Yom Kippur. Yet, the message of our own spiritual harvest, the idea that how we act and what we do as “keepers of meaning” can allow us to focus on that harvest of life experience. May you, in this season, enjoy a harvest of blessings and may you continue to plant seeds of blessing, kindness and love in the coming year.

Chag Sameach Sukkot

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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So, we come to this very interesting Torah portion. The poem/song that Moses speaks as the reality of the ending of his life becomes all too real. These 52 verses say so much. There is great imagery here. Look at the very beginning as Moses asks that his words, spoke to the Israelites, “come down as dew..like showers on young growth”, as if to say that the slow rain is of greater benefit than a sudden shower. Is he saying that words of comfort and kindness may have greater impact on a situation that anger and outbursts? Moses reminds us in verse 7 to “Remember the days of old” and that elders can be of great importance in unpacking issues. An important message for our youth-oriented ageist world.

The poem recounts the agony and frustration of Israel’s journey and relationship with God. Moses vents his frustration at the Israelites failure to follow God’s ways. He even seems to quote God in 19ff as to God’s anger at the fact that His people had strayed. A challenge in the poem, as Rabbi Plaut points out in his essay found in his Torah commentary (p 1564) is that despite God’s promise to exact revenge on this people, God still holds out to His people hope. Is God afraid that if He does exact true revenge, that the other nations (Gods) will mock Him? (27)

But there is another issue that needs to be discussed here. This Shabbat is Shabbat “Tshuvah. This is the Sabbath of Repentance, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Special prayers are read at worship that speak to this idea of repentance and forgiveness. But where is the forgiveness in the poem? At the end of the chapter (48ff) God calls to Moses and reminds him that he, like Aaron, will die. The reason? Verse 51 “for you both broke faith with Me among the Israelite people, at the waters of Meribath-kadesh, in the wilderness of Zin, by failing to uphold My sanctity among the Israelite people”.

In this season of forgiveness, where is God’s?

Shabbat shalom and G’mar Tov

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I recently had the opportunity to interview Dr. Laurence Steinberg for one of our upcoming Seekers of Meaning podcast/tv. We were discussing his new book “You and Your Adult Child”. In reading the book and in discussing adult child and parental relationships with Dr. Steinberg, I could not help but think of the Torah portion that will be read this weekend: The “Akedah. the Binding of Isaac. No doubt, your rabbi will speak on the myriad of interpretations. I wanted to share this with you as Rosh Hoshonnah begins and this portion of texts looms so large.

Many of our generation face the issue of seeing our adult children growing up (it does seem way too fast) and becoming independent people. At time, it seems that it is difficult to “let go”. After all, we had, and still may have so many hopes and dreams for them. Yet, in so many ways, they carve out their own life. The tension or challenge of “letting go” of these dreams, hopes, fantasies, etc can crate, at time, stress. But think about this passage of Genesis and the fact that what Abraham is having to do it to “let go” of Isaac. Remember, there is some tradition that reminds us that Isaac is an adult and not a child.

That scene on the mountain may be symbolic of the moment in parental-child relationships that we recognize and honor their independence. We “let go”! As one interpretation notes: “Abraham has sacrificed the projections he has cast upon Isaac, and is now freed from Isaac as part of his psyche. From now on Isaac is an independent being who exists in his own right. Abraham’s integrity and wholeness are enhanced by his forfeiting Isaac and his grip on him” (Abraham The Man And The Symbol: Dreifuss and Riemer. p.101)

As the story ends, Abraham returns to his men alone. Isaac becomes his own person. Abraham has “let go” of his projections. We all live this story as parents and grandparents. The message of this portion is eternal. The message is also challenging and very real.

Shannah Tovah. Stay safe and healthy in the new year

Rabbi Richard F Address

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You can begin to sense the change. Within a few weeks Rosh Hoshonnah will arrive. The new year 5784 will be upon us and so this week’s Torah again remains timely. The themes of much of the reading will again be that of choice, blessing and curse and the call to follow God’s word. We meet Moses’s realization, affirmed by God, that his death is near. Sadly, as the portions end, Moses speaks his truth that he knows that even after he is gone the people will turn from God’s ways (31:29). There is a sadness to these verses. Moses knows he will die, and he fears/knows that the people will not be true to the path which he taught.

There is so much to unpack in these verses. One issue that may rise to be discussed in your Torah study sessions is this tension, one played out as a constant theme in Torah, of following God’s path versus the tendency to not do so. Was society so challenging that the people just could not obey, despite the promises of blessing? It can beg the question of what may hold a society together, a question even more meaningful in today’s world, where there seems to be no moral foundation. So, we can ask, as many colleagues will do from their pulpits, where can we turn to create or find a moral foundation for life?

Rarely have we needed to ask this question more than now, for we live in a society that seems to equate morality with what I wish, and what is good for me. Have we lost the simple acts of kindness? David Brooks asked this question in a recent article in The Atlantic when he wrote “We inhabit a society in which people are no longer trained in how to treat others with kindness and consideration…In a culture devoid of moral education, generations grow up in a morally inarticulate, self-referential world.” (How America Got Mean: “The Atlantic” September 2023.)

The fact of the matter is that we inhabit a religious tradition that does teach a moral foundation for life. We just have gotten away from teaching it. It is way beyond social justice work. It, at its heart is human justice work, relational justice work. We can see a one-chapter review of this foundation in Leviticus 19, and, to channel the first of this week’s portion, it is not too far from us, but close to us, as seen in this week’s Nitzavim (Deuteronomy 29 and 30). Indeed, we pray for this regularly in the morning service. Look at the morning prayer called Elu D’varim. What can a moral foundation for a society be based on? That prayer outlines it perfectly. It lists a range of mitzvot that are obligatory for us to perform, everything from visiting the sick, to rejoicing with the wedding couple to accompanying the dead, from performing acts of kindness and welcoming the stranger, praying with sincerity and what leads to them all but Talmud Torah: the study of Torah. Think about this prayer as a formula upon which to base a moral society. What if we focused our education on actualizing these values? The choice, as this week’s portion will remind us, is ours.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Rabbi/Chaplain Laurie Kurs ties this week's parsha, Ki Tavo, and its promise of inheritance of the land to the fight against antisemitism over the centuries, and the obligation for a new generation of Zionist young people to take up the fight. [Read more...]

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Rabbi Dr. Steven Moss writes about the concept of a merciful God. [Read more...]

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Few Torah portions have been quoted as much as the verse from this week’s reading, Shoftim. In Chapter 16, verse 20, we read the famous Tzedek, tzedek, tirdof (justice, justice shall you pursue). No [Read more...]

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Re’eh is a wonderous portion as it includes a wide range of commands, emotions, and feelings. It is important to remember that classical Biblical thoughts places the book of Deuteronomy in the 7th century [Read more...]

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Ekev presents us with many issues and a very traditional theology. In keeping with Torah, God is in charge, and everything rests on Israel obeying the Commandments. The portion begins with a direct call, [Read more...]

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This week’s portion is filled with famous texts and powerful themes. V’etchanan includes the repetition of the 10 Commandments (5) and the Sh’ma (6:4). It is also a special themed Shabbat, Shabbat Nachamu, (comfort) [Read more...]

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“These are the words”! With this we begin a new book, the Book of Deuteronomy. The book’s history is interesting, as many historians see it as the discovery to validate the reformation of King Josiah [Read more...]

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As Rabbi Address continues his vacation, we present another guest d'var Torah, this week from Cantor/Rabbi Rhoda Harrison, Ph.D. [Read more...]

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While Rabbi Address enjoys a well-earned vacation, the weekly d'var Torah is being provided by some of our regular JewishSacredAging.com contributors. This week, the d'var on Parsha Pinchas is by Rabbinic Pastor Reb Carl Viniar. [Read more...]

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What do we do with anger? How do we manage that emotion that can cause so much pain to our self and others? How often have we said or done something in the heat of [Read more...]

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Our portion begins with one of the great challenges to authority in our tradition. Korach and allies rant against Moses and Aaron: “You have gone too far! All the community are holy, all of [Read more...]

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This week we encounter a portion with one of the more interesting stories. The Israelites are camped close to Canaan and Moses is instructed to send scouts to see what this land looks like. [Read more...]

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This week’s portion has several unique issues. We meet instructions for the Levites and the laws concerning Pesach Sheini.We also find, in Number 12:13, the first healing prayer in our tradition when Moses prays [Read more...]

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For Chaplain Barry Pitegoff, BCC, Parsha Naso is about giving, receiving, and sensing dignity. [Read more...]

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That is something that we do not speak about enough. We discuss the formula for blessing,( the Baruch atah Adonai), and we repeat them or pray them when we go to synagogue or sit at the seder or participate in a wedding or b’nai mitzvah. We receive blessings, we participate in blessings but how do we or can we “be” the blessing? Let me suggest that this question is very meaningful as we get older, and the blessing is not the same as doing the mitzvah.They may, in some cases merge, but they are not the same.

So, how can each of us “be” that blessing? The tradition, I think, does give us the answer in that it reminds us that life, meaning, and purpose derive from our engagement with and for others. That is why relationships at our age are so important. That is why community is more important than theology when it comes to congregational life. We receive many blessings every day, and we are also called up on be a source of blessing to others: our family, or friends, the world at large. Indeed, there are commentaries that speak to the threefold elements contained within the blessing as going from the personal to the communal. However, you choose to see this passage, it does challenge us to “be” a blessing. It may be the blessing of kindness, or compassion, or presence. It may be a blessing of study or acts of tz’dakah. The merit or reward of being a blessing is beyond any tangible reward. Think about this, if we could educate people from childhood on about the power of blessing, what changes could be possible? What would a religious school curriculum based on educating for blessing look like?

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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I am David Balto a Washington, D.C. Chaplain in a hospital, prison, and a hospice. It is an incredible blessing to do this work as I try to be a comforting presence in places of suffering.

I want to share a teaching for Yizkor, our time to remember our beloveds, with you that helps guide me in my work and my own search for meaning.

The Zohar teaches that when a soul departs from the body for the first 30 days it is in a liminal state, neither in this world or the next. During that time a soul garment is woven for the soul. The garment is woven of the fabric of the acts of the departed and these acts become a radiant garment for the soul. The soul garment is a replica of the person’s character while in the world. When the soul is ready to ascend to the lower heaven a proclamation resounds saying “this garment belongs to this person.”

The Zohar explains:

“A person’s good deeds done in this world draw from the celestial resplendency of light a garment with which he may be invested when he appears before the Blessed Holy One. In that raiment he is in a state of bliss and feasts his eyes on the spirit of the Holy One.”

I have always loved this notion.

Sometimes for grieving families I will suggest they reflect upon their beloved and weave his or her soul garment. In this way to be reminded of the essential character of their beloved and the connection that is always present. It’s a beautiful notion to gather, reflect, repair and begin the path of grieving.

For one person the community actually undertook a month of good deeds to weave the person’s soul garment.

Weaving is so essential and it engages our whole being. And Gd is the ultimate weaver.

Psalm 139 says:

“For you created my inmost being; you wove me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.”

In the hospital, when I bless the babies in the NICU, babies so preciously small, some as small as 20 ounces, striving with every element of being for existence, my heart is touched thinking of Gd the weaver and I thank Gd for how wonderously they are created.

And on Yom Kippur we pray:

“Behold as the cloth in the hand of the weaver,
who drapes or twists it at will,
so are we in Your hand, O gracious God;
look to the covenant and overlook our sin.”

Weaving. What a blessing to weave.

The immediate time after death of a loved one is a time of keriah, tearing and devastation. After all we tear our garment (over our heart if it our parent) to remind ourselves of the overwhelming loss, how we feel torn from the world, how our beloved is torn away. We stare at the tear, we feel the rip as we are ripped apart.

We fear the tear will consume us or we will be lost within the tear.

What a lovely notion that at that time of devastation we are given the spiritual task of binding, repairing and creating. We gather the fabric of our beloved, the deeds, the hopes and beliefs, the aspirations, holding these fabrics, reflecting upon them, embracing them. Then designing the garment and mending, tying together the pieces, and weaving. How lovely to know you will create and hold the fabric of a person’s life in your heart.

Imagine. Imagine your creation for your beloved. Imagine for one of the beloveds you will pray for at the time of Yizkor. Perhaps a piece of white linen to reflect their modesty, or lace to reflect their love for the refined or soft velvet to reflect their sense of order, or a piece of worn leather to reflect their determination, or faded denim to reflect their easy going nature, or flannel to reflect their warmth or the comfort of their presence. Some pieces we may pause over – perhaps some burlap to reflect their contrary nature, or wool to remind you of the friction. Create the design. Take the pieces, weave them together carefully through the warp, tie them together, caress the fabric.

And as you weave perhaps it is sad to see the fabrics that are not there, the pain or loss that occurred, the disappointment. The incompletion, the acts or failure to act that caused pain. The soul garment is not perfect. Nor was our beloved. After all, Gd did not make us perfect, that job is reserved for Angels.

I invite you to take the opportunity to reflect upon the soul garments for the souls you will pray for in the next few moments. Summon the vision inside your heart. Look at their soul garment. Look at the fabrics that are woven. Visit them, envision them, touch them. Open your heart. Look at those attributes they were blessed with or challenged by. Look at the fabric of their garment, their intentions, wishes, actions, disappointments, reflections and teachings. The feelings, joy, pride, devotion, anger, sadness, fear.

Look at those fabrics, piece by piece. Perhaps they rekindle a deep warmth inside you, of your being cherished, of their looking into your eyes with boundless love. Perhaps they remind you of a touch, an embrace as if their garment embraces you now. Perhaps they remind you of words of pride and deep connection. Perhaps you just sit back and appreciate how special your beloved was — I am proud of you, you were so special — how their memory and the garment still nourishes you, and how much you miss them, how you wish your own garment may have some of the same vitality.

But look again, fabric changes. Remember heaven is not like our earthly existence – the afterlife is a world of truth, it is a world of judgment. Perhaps in the world of truth what looked like strong or vibrant fabric has now faded. Or you notice the holes or gaps that always existed, but you missed. Or the frayed incomplete edges that may reflect pain or disappointment. Or when you see gaps or tears you may feel diminished, frustrated, burdened. Perhaps the fabric seemed damaged or infected (we learn about dealing with a woven garment with tzaarat – an infection — in parsha Tazria and how we preserve the garment). Or the weaving is simply incomplete.

And maybe now on reflection you see beauty you missed. Your sadness.

I want to invite you to revisit the soul garments of the people who are in your heart during Yizkor. And perhaps engage in mending the soul garment, of renewing it.

And I want to suggest four guideposts to assist your journey, of seeing your beloved with fresh eyes.

First, view with curiosity. Look upon your beloved’s garment and ask what was this quality, what is this fabric? Where did it come from? If you see parts that are missing, or frayed, be willing to explore the absence and try to understand. Your beloved and their lives always have something to teach you. Be open to inquiry and learning.

Second, view with compassion. Compassion is the core of our lives. The Dalai Lama said “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” We are to walk in Gd’s ways and the first attribute we recognize is Gd’s compassion. The Talmud teaches judge everyone for the good. As we grow older and face many of the challenges faced by our beloved, challenges where perhaps they missed the mark, we can understand their actions or failings with greater compassion.

Compassion keeps the connection vibrant. Compassion is the path to healing.

Third, view with gratitude. In one way or another each one of our beloveds are our teachers, have contributed to our lives, made us the persons we are. Maybe there are attributes you try to keep. Maybe there are other qualities you reject. In all ways, however, the example of their lives guide us.

Finally, view with tears. Tears. Salt water. On Pesach we tasted the salt water when we dipped the karpas. Our collective tears. And for your beloved maybe the tears seem so far away, locked deep inside. Be open to those tears, especially the unexpressed ones.

And look at the soul garment again. Maybe now you see new fabric. Maybe now fabric that seemed incomplete now seems to be able to stretch. Maybe now you see new fabrics that you missed. Maybe you can stretch the fabric, tie it together, make it stronger, and bring new completion, new wholeness. And maybe you see a vibrancy your eyes and heart could not absorb before.

Or maybe it enables you to say the frayed fabric, the gaps, the pain, the disappointment is ok, I can better understand you. I can forgive. We can heal.

No one is perfect.

This is my journey. My father, Yitzchak ben Tzvi Hersch v Taivel, of blessed memory, and I unfortunately were not blessed with a close relationship. Whether it was his alcoholism, my inability to forgive, family battles, my insecurity and fear, one never truly knows. But we were simply not close.

But things can change. A Hasidic master once explained that after death souls can become closer “because now there are no barriers.”

Perhaps.

As I examine my father’s soul garment, I recognize the parts of my own soul garment that are his blessing. As a chaplain there are many qualities his example, his soul garment, teach me:

the ability to see beyond barriers and create the possible,
the passion for being able to help people feel Gd’s presence,
an ability to be fully present in the place of suffering, and
trust in my intuition and know it is a gift from Gd.

And the vital lesson of his later years — striving in the words of Psalm 90 to “teach me to make each day count so that I may attain a heart of wisdom.”

So when you think of creating your own soul garment look at that basket of fabric next to you, the fabric of your character. Some from the beloved you pray for, some of your own creation.

Their soul garment will guide you.

A suggestion. As you view your beloved’s soul garment, tell their story. Tell their story, not just for them or for yourself, but also for those in your life who are your future.

Telling the story of your beloved with not only strengthen and elevate their spirit in heaven, it will strengthen the spirit of those who hear the story.

I have an interesting fact to share. They have done studies of families that suffered losses from 911 and families that suffered losses from the pandemic. And you know what they found? What is the source of strength – the ability to be present with the pain, go through the pain and be resilient? It is knowing your family story. The ability to share the family story, to create a family narrative is critical to helping people have a sense that they can deal with challenges, even the most painful suffering. And the narrative should not just be the successes, but all the challenges, failures, upsets, and disappointments, the tears, the stains, the patches, the holes. It is just simply a way to understand what it means to be fully human.

Curiosity, compassion, gratitude tears.

About a month ago we observed Yom Hashoah the day to remember the 6 million. I want to close with a poem about memory that my wife Naomi reminded me of — Birdsong, by a child in the Terezin Concentration Camp in I Never Saw Another Butterfly (a collection of children’s poetry and drawings from the camp):

Birdsong

He doesn’t know the world at all

Who stays in his nest and doesn’t go out

He doesn’t know what birds know best

Nor what I want to sing about

That world is full of loveliness.

When dewdrops sparkle in the grass

And earth’s aflood with morning light

A blackbird sings upon a bush

To greet the dawning after night.

Then I know how fine it is to live.

Hey, try to open your heart

To beauty; go to the woods some day

And weave a wreath of memory there.

And if the tears obscure your way

You’ll know how wonderful it is to be alive.

Weave a wreath of memory. The treasures of our soul garments, our beloveds and our own, always being created. Always being renewed. We are told in Exodus that Gd filled those who would do the weaving for the Mizbeach (the sanctuary) with a “wise heart.” May we all be blessed with a wise heart, an open, loving, curious and forgiving heart as we remember our beloveds.

May it be so.

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We welcome the fourth book of Torah this Shabbat, B’midbar-Numbers. We are in the wilderness and about to move forward to the eventual goal of our Torah story. But first, Moses needs to find out who is with them and who may be counted on in case of trouble. So, we see the first act of the book is to take a census. This is a portion about “numbering” the people.

As with many of our texts, a little discussion and study reveal gems of interpretation. One of those interpretations that may be drawn from this week’s portion is the traditional concept of our own uniqueness. Yes, in this portion, people “count” for something. This reminds us of a classic Midrash about coins that no doubt your rabbi has taught. While a king may mint coins and have the coins have the same picture, God, says the Midrash, mints each human being in God’s image and each is unique. There is no one like you, ever; or will ever be! This is a message that too often gets lost in today’s world where there is this desire to often be part of the crowd. Indeed, you can read some of the political/social challenges that we are witnessing as an extension of the fear of encountering someone or something that stands out, that is unique.

There is a wonderful interpretation of this portion that also reminds us of this linkage to our own life and its’ uniqueness. In the Conservative movement’s Etz Hayim commentary of this portion is a citation from Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev. In Numbers 1:46 we read that the final total of Israelites over 20 years of age, according to the census, was 603,550. Levi Yitzchak links this to “a tradition that there are 603,550 letters in the Torah. Just as the absence of one letter renders a Torah scroll unfit for use, the loss of even one Jew prevents Israel from fulfilling its divine mission.” (p.770)

As we get older and contemplate on what is important in life, many of us come to the realization that we are enriched by the uniqueness of people. How many of us have family members, children, or grandchildren, who have sought their own path, their own style their own life choice? Do we love them any less? Maybe one of the real hidden lessons of this portion is a call to celebrate differences rather than fear them. Perhaps, especially as Jews who have too often been singled out as “the other”, we need to work to spread the message of acceptance and kindness. For if we are all “in God’s image”, are not we all a reflection of what is possible, of what can be sacred, each in our own unique way?

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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We come this Shabbat to the concluding portions, a double portion of Behar-B’chukotai. This is apportion filled with laws and regulations on such things as interest, slavery, the Sabbatical year, and chapters on blessings if you follow God’s laws and curses that will fall upon you if you do not. There is much here to review. Yet, let’s turn to perhaps the most famous passage in this section. It comes from Leviticus 25:10 and reads “You shall proclaim freedom throughout the land to all its inhabitants.”. Yes, this is passage on the Liberty Bell.

Now the context of the verse refers to the Jubilee year, reference at the beginning of 25. And there are different translations of the word used for freedom. Some translations use the English “release” which seems closer to the context. That has led to a discussion on the Hebrew, which in this portion uses the word d’ror. So, I ask you to let this word and idea of release or freedom play in your mind for a while and ask what that concept may mean now for us at our stage of life? I suggest to you that this phrase has great meaning. Think about the fact of what it may mean to be released from past hurts or constraints? What would it mean if you were free from the bounds of the past. It is not that they never happened, rather, it is the understanding that to be bound by them or enslaved by them means that we are never really free from them. Our past life experiences, for good or not, helped shape who we are now. We can never be totally rid of them. But we can, as we age, understand what they were and why we, perhaps, chose to act in certain ways in a context that is long since passed. In other words, this passage can be personalized to invite us to see how we can be and live d’ror, released from living in a past, or being defined by others.

In the new book on the Haftorah portions, Cantor Rhoda Harrison writes a commentary on this word. She compares it to another Hebrew word often used to mean freedom, chofesh. Harrison cites Rashi’s comment that chofesh can mean “the freedom from living under someone else’s rule”. She adds that later commentators noted that chofesh “marks the absence of labor for a limited period of time”, the word d’ror “implies that a person has become his or her own master”. (“Prophetic Voices”, Rabbi Barbara Symons, ed. CCAR Press. P. 234). So, what this verse from this week’s portion is calling on us to do is to live our own authentic life. Use the life experience of our past, the good and the not so good, to be free of other’s expectations and idealizations. What would your life be if you could proclaim your own release? What would your life be like if you proclaimed your d’ror?

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is another challenging portion. We find ourselves in the sea of commands regarding the priesthood. We also will find in this portion another repetition of the sacred calendar (23) and the reference to a variety of issues from “eye for eye” etc (24:17) and communal responsibility for the poor and stranger (23:22).

But as I was looking at the portion, I was drawn to some of the verses in the beginning chapter (21).

The Hebrew word moom (mem, vov, mem) appears in 21:17 with the meaning of defect. It is a reference to the prohibition of anyone, especially the priests, entering the sacred space who has a defect, and those defects are spelled out in the verses following 17. This may spark some interesting conversation at the Shabbat Torah study, especially given the growing awareness and sensitivity in our community to the disability’s movement. I leave that up to your discussions. What I wanted to place before you is how we can look at that Hebrew word and ask ourselves how it may relate to each of us.

There is a wonderful Midrash on the broken tablets that Moses caused when he emerged from the initial revelation, only to observe the Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf. The Midrash (Berachot 8b) teaches us that those broken tablets were placed within the Ark, along with that second set, reminding us that, in a sense, we each carry a sense of brokenness with us. This is not necessarily a bad thing. By that I mean that each of us, at this stage of our lives, has been, in a sense, forced to deal with a sense of brokenness. No one is perfect. Each of us has been tested by some aspect of life; each of us has felt a sense of being broken, depressed, lonely, “cut off” at some moment in life. For some, this condition became chronic. For others it became fatal.

There is this value in our tradition called shleimut. Yes, it comes from the root for shalom, and has within it the sense of being whole or complete. When we feel alienated or cut off, or in a sense, broken, what the tradition, (and maybe this portion) is saying is that the way out of this is to search for our own sense of what makes us whole. What excites us or drives our own passion and, once we discover this, not to be afraid to act on that. This search may, for some, be a life-long enterprise. But what Judaism teaches is that this is part of living. Each of us will have these moments when we feel less than whole. We are in no way “less than” anyone else, for everyone gets a turn at this. The challenge is to seek our own resilience in the face of these challenges so we can seek that sense of wholeness and completeness. And this may be a lifelong process!

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Acharei-Mot/K’doshim this week’s double portion has enough to keep Torah study classes going for weeks. From the drama surrounding the aftermath of Nadab and Avihu’s death, to the scapegoat ritual, to the elucidation of laws dealing with sexual issues (Lev. 18) to the so-called Holiness code and repetition of the 10 Commandments (Lev. 19); we have a wealth of intriguing verses. As rich as these chapters are, I would like to look at a section that we often overlook, but I think has impact for us at this stage of life.

Let’s go to the very beginning of these portions, Leviticus 16:2. “God said to Moses: Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the shrine (ha-kodesh), behind the curtain (parochet) in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover”. Now, I would like you to play with the text and ask yourself what the role of a curtain may be. As a Midrash tells us, when we keep a curtain closed, sight is limited. When we draw back that curtain, light may enter, we can see and be seen. Ask do we keep that curtain to our soul closed, even now, as we get older? And if so, what does that mean?

The instruction to Aaron is quite clear and brutal. You cannot just go into the Holy of Holies whenever you wish. To do so courts death. There are rules associated with proper worship. Not much room for flexibility here (just ask Aaron’s sons!). Now I ask you to just allow these texts to speak to you. Are we often afraid to think in new spiritual terms? Life has taken many of us in many new directions. Do we still carry a more childlike spirituality or theology? Are we afraid, so to speak, to part that curtain and see or think of new directions? Are we concerned that, in drawing back that curtain, we will, like Dorothy in Oz, see new truths? There is security in the status quo, but does the Judaism that we practice now speak to our life stage? Have we become, in our older age, spiritually inflexible?

This is a term that Dr Kenneth Pargament speaks about in his book “Spiritually Integrated Psychotherapy” when he writes “Fear lies at the root of spiritual inflexibility. The fear, in part, is psychological. It is a fear of uncertainty, confusion, and aimlessness. Spiritual inflexibility, as Pargament continues, is security for some. It provides “a clear-cut sense of meaning and direction in a confusing and rapidly changing world filled with diverse individuals and lifestyles” (299). This certainly speaks to our world today as we see a greater concentration of rigid or inflexible religious beliefs. The curtain to these souls remain closed.

Let me suggest that we can look at these two portions as another challenge on the part of tradition to continue to evolve. For in Acharei Mot we see classic expressions of religious practices that restrict. But, I think, the response to that is the second portion, K’doshim which speaks to the reality that acting with a sense of holiness transcends everything. Indeed, Leviticus 19 is a sort of one chapter revue of how we are charged to behave; from ritual to family to economic life: we do holy because we are in a relationship with the Sacred. I suggest that this section reminds us that we live with people, in life and that we change and grow as we live and that we need not fear to part the curtain that hides our true soul and embrace the future. We have survived as a people by doing just that.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we arrive at the double portion Tazria-M’tzorah. This is the challenge for e very Bar or Bat Mitzvah who, by the luck of birth or assignment, draws this portion. No sweeping drama here. Rather, laws and regulations regarding when one has a skin eruption or when one discovers an infection within one’s house. As many of you who have studied this portion know, the symbolism of what infects people or homes can be quite meaningful. Indeed, if we just read the papers or watch the news, we could make the case that our society is infected with a type of tzara’at that seems almost incurable.

The portion, however, can lead us to a variety of discussions that flow from the text. When a person discovers these lesions, we see the primary role of the priest. In today’s world, for most of us, that priestly role of diagnostician and treater of the sick falls to the doctor, and Jewish tradition is rich in the role of the physician in our life.

There is a particular verse that can relate to some of this. In 13:45, there is the scene where the infected person is called upon to go about the camp and shout “unclean, unclean” so that no one else should come in contact and thus risk infection. In his interpretation of this verse, Rabbi Twerski (z’l) says that by changing one aspect of punctuation the verse would read “And he who is unclean calls-everyone else-unclean.” Twerski notes that this interpretation “supports the Talmudic statement that a person who insults others generally projects his own defects unto them”. Thus, says Twerski, “Torah thus anticipated the discovery of the psychological mechanism of projection by thousands of years”. (Living Each Week: Abraham Twerski. 229) This idea of “mirroring” what we feel and think of ourselves onto others can explain a lot of today’s challenges.

A further, and more positive in a way, thought in this verse was brought forth this week in a column by Rabbi Elie Kaunfer of Hadar.He looks at this verse as an opening for a call for healing. By calling out “unclean, unclean”, the infected person makes this public and thus implores the community to pray for them. Kaunfer cites a Talmudic passage that underscores this idea that we can see in this verse a call on the part of the person who is ill to ask for the community to pray for them. The community, then, becomes part of a healing process, just as when we pray as a community the m’sheberach prayer for healing. We may not know each of the people we pray for, but, we hope they know that a community is united in praying for them. In this way, we “pray it forward” in a sense, and all become part of fulfilling this mitzvah.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Richard F. Address

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There is no shortage of issues to challenge us in Portion Sh’mini. We return to the issue of sacrifices and the role of Aaron. But quickly we read of one of the most interesting, and disturbing stories in Torah. Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu (chapter 10) bring their sacrifice. It is “alien fire” (eish zara), a sacrifice that was not “commanded” (lo tzivah). The result: death. Commentaries are rich on this passage and no doubt will form some conversation in your weekly Torah study. Were they intoxicated? Or was it an act of rebellion against Aaron? In any case the result is staggering form when the news is given to Aaron, his response is silence (10:3) How have we responded to the news of a death of those close to us?

But there is other equally challenging issue in this portion. Leviticus 11 introduces us again to food laws. What we may or may not eat covers a vast number of verses. As I was considering this portion, these passages reminded me that we have just exited Passover, where food is such an important issue. Indeed, we read at seder the famous ha lachma onya “the bread of affliction” and that all who are hungry they should come and eat. I wonder, in this world of increased anxiety, the political tensions here and abroad, the on-going gun violence in our country, what are we hungry for? Right now, ask yourself, what are you hungry for? What feeds your soul that may be lacking?

Here is a hint on this from a modern commentary that channels the thoughts of Mordecai Kaplan. It is based on the passage from the portion (Leviticus 11.45) that reminds the Israelites that Adonai brought them from Egypt to be their God and that “you shall be holy, for I am holy”. Are we hungry for holiness? “Kaplan believed that when we as individuals act and live with a sense of holiness, that we reach a higher level of existence, a level that can counter our own fears. “We replace fear and distrust of both us and others with peace, poise, and power, and bring godliness into life—ours and others”. ( A Year With Mordecai Kaplan. Rabbi Stevem Carr Reuben. P. 103)

Is this idealistic? Perhaps. We are a long way from a society that sees holiness as a foundation. But each of us, in our own way can choose to live a life that does model that sense of the sacred in life. Maybe it is one relationship at a time, one person at a time, one act of holiness at a time that can satisfy our hunger for peace, safety, and security.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This is a highly personal season, this Passover week. The readings in the Hagaddah, the Torah HafTorah portions, I suggest, lend themselves to a sense of the transcendent and the possibility of transition and transformation. This is, after all, the festival that focuses on the major metaphor in Judaism, that of the Wilderness and, obviously, it is our own personal journey that is really being discussed. Alvin Fine’s beautiful poem/prayer of “Birth is a beginning and death a destination” reminds us that our challenge is to make the journey a “sacred pilgrimage”. This year, maybe more so than many previous years, that image is very meaningful.

It seems that so much in our lives is in transition. From the political to the personal, change is all around, and much of the change is challenging. We are also changing, as we get older, we are becoming more and more aware of the changes, subtle and not so subtle, that we are undergoing. As such, we become more aware of the need to focus on the moments of meaning that we encounter. We remember the losses we have endured, and we are called on to celebrate the joys we share. Those real-life experiences are symbolized at the seder. The marror is really the symbolism of the bitterness of loss and disappointments that we have endured. The charoseth, with its sweetness symbolizes the joys we have in life, the experiences and relationships that are sweet. Each has its place. And then, we combine them in that famous “Hillel sandwich” that literally symbolizes what life is about, a mixture of the bitter and the sweet.

Let me also suggest that this week also allows us to look at aspects of loss. After all, we conclude the festival with Yizkor, as we remember those and that which has been lost. No doubt many of you at your celebration noticed those who have been at the table but are no longer there. The Wilderness is also about loss and growth. The imagery of movement from slavery to liberation is really about each of us. It is about moving or letting go of the thoughts, relationships, ideas and the like that have “enslaved us” and having the courage to seek our own personal liberation. In her book “Necessary Losses”, Judith Viorst channels this festival when she wrote: “We will mourn the loss of others. But we are also going to mourn the loss of our selves—of earlier definition that our images of self depend upon. For the changes in our body redefine us. The events of our personal history redefine us. The ways that others perceive us redefine us. And at several points in our life we will have to relinquish a former self-image and move on.” (p.265)

This is a week that challenges us to move on. It is a festival of transition and, maybe, transformation. Once again, the choice is ours to make. Have a sweet, healthy, and joyful Passover.

Shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This portion revolves around the sacrificial cult and the role of the Priesthood. We read, in detail, of the various sacrifices that can be and must be brought. There are elaborate instructions for these various sacrifices and, as the portion concludes, the anointing ceremony for Aaron. There is no doubt who is in charge of the cult, as classic Torah scholars remind us, for we see again the power of the Aaronide priesthood. This is a portion that celebrates order and instruction (Torah)

Look at Genesis 1 to see the style of the priestly writers. This is a section of the creation story that is orderly. It is not all over the place like our second story (Genesis 2). No, the priests seemed to prize order. That got me to thinking of this subject and how it may be of greater importance as we age. This idea of order is of even greater importance as we emerge from Covid and yet, still exist in a world that seems more chaotic than ever. As we emerge from the pandemic, I find that many seek a return to a routine or a sense of order in life.

Mussar, the ethical proactive of our tradition, sees a variety of ethical principles that can be seen as guides to life. One of these principles (called midot) is called order and has the Hebrew of seder (yes like the seder at Passover, which is flows thought a defined order of service). Order stands in opposition to chaos. Genesis 1 brought order from chaos. The rules and routines of the sacrificial cult are meant to bring a sense of order into the world and our place in it. “In the book of Leviticus, ritual is employed as a way to create and maintain order within society, and also to reestablish order when we inevitably fall short of what God demands” (The Mussar Torah Commentary”. P.155)

I wonder, as we get a little older, if we have this inclination to bring more of a sense of order and routine to our life. How many of us are creating our own personal spiritual practice that helps focus us and ground us in a world of anxiety and stress? Is the portion reminding us that a life of chaos, while it may be momentarily exciting, leaves us in chaos ourselves. Maimonides reminded us that a key to a meaningful life is to live in what he referred to as the “golden mean”. He knew that a life lived in the extremes eventually caused illness of body and soul. How many of us have come to understand this? A life of order can provide a foundation that can allow us to function when life throws chaos at us. The challenge for us, then, is how to manage the desire for creativity and adventure with the parallel need for order in life. Many of us are living this challenge. It may be part of the on-going debate within our souls as to what to let go of, and what to hold on to so that we may live a life of meaning and purpose.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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In our life, we are called by many names, and we are called in many ways by many things. This week’s portion begins the book of Leviticus and has God calling to Moses. He is being called to the service of the Sanctuary. No doubt, those of you who will attend a Torah study this Shabbat will discuss what it means to be “called” by God or some cause. As I was looking at this passage, however, I began to see in it another glimpse into what many may be feeling, and I began to look at a different way of what a “call” could mean.

Often, a call impels us to go out and do something. It is often outer directed. Much of the portions is a set of instruction on how to do the sacrifices. In a commentary on this portion, Rabbi Shoshonah Gelfand notes that the word for sacrifice in Hebrew has a three-letter root that means “to draw near”. (“The Woman’s Torah Commentary”. Jewish Lights. P. 187). As we get older and have the courage to reflect on where we have come from, we also are called to reflect on where we wish to go. Many people get stuck in a sort of status quo, using age as a rationale to stop growing. But just consider that a possible “call” from the portion is to draw near to our own soul and not be afraid to dream, plan and create a new self.

We live in such a world of anxiety and fear. We are emerging from Covid and the state of the world around us is, at best, challenging. There is a real desire for some to “circle the wagons”, so to speak, and try and shut out the noise of the outside world. To a point, we may all do that at times. However, the world and life continue to move forward. Maybe Leviticus 1 is about listening to and responding to this “call” to shed what was and to not fear to consider what changes in our own self we need to make to best live in this new world. Rabbi Abraham Twerski in his “Living Each Week”, compares this chapter and this “call” to how some animals shed their outer skin as they grow. “This phenomenon has its counterpart in the nature of the human being. Sometimes the discomfort and distress one experiences is an indication that ne has reached a stage where additional growth is required and that one must eliminate those factors that impede one’s spiritual growth.” Twerski goes on to add that many who feel psychological or even physical discomfort may not be dealing with illness but “it may also be true that the discomfort is a sign of health rather than disease and that it indicates a need for growth rather than for treatment.” (p.200)

So, this Shabbat, ask yourself how you may be being called, and if you are feeling uneasy with how you are living is really a call to shed what is and move to what can be.

Shabbat shalom.

Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Davar Vayakhel-Pekude 5783

Saturday, March 18, 2023

The Kotzke Rebbe taught that G-d dwells wherever we let G-d in. Yet, this week’s parsha appears to end with a contradictory metaphor. The Chabad.org translation of the last verses in Exodus 40 is: “(33) He [Moses] set up the courtyard all around the Mishkan and the altar, and he put up the screen at the entrance to the courtyard; and Moses completed the work. (34) And the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting and the glory of the Lord filled the Mishkan. 35) Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting because the cloud rested upon it and the glory of the Lord filled the Mishkan.”

G-d dwells wherever we let G-d in, but is it possible that G-d may not let us in a space where G-d dwells? The psalms echo our yearning to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our lives, especially Psalm 23, Verse 6.

Clouds are a magnificent metaphor because now, thousands of years later, we know that we can fly through clouds. The horizontal metaphor G-d in religion is that G-d is up there as an old man in a cloud and we are down here is for cartoons and fairy tales.

The “Charlie Brown Rain Cloud Effect” derives from “the metaphor of Charlie Brown, the Charles Schulz comic strip character, who seems to always travel with a rain cloud permanently hovering atop him” and has become a legal principle explained by Robert Caplan in the Capital University Law Review, August 24, 2010.

Joni Mitchell wrote “Both Sides Now” in 1966 and included the poignant “So many things I would have done / But clouds got in my way” and “It’s cloud illusions I recall / I really don’t know clouds at all.”

If G-d is telling us that we are b’tzelem elohim, in G-d’s image, and G-d sometimes needs space and yet it is all good, then perhaps we need to have the confidence that G-d might not always have us in the same space with G-d, and yet it is all good, that G-d’s presence is still among us.

JTS Rabbinic Student Rami Schwartzer (now a Conservative Rabbi) pondered this question in a post on Pekudei on March 11, 2016 for the Jewish Theological Seminary. [Now] Rabbi Schwartzer first quotes Nachmanides’ self-admittedly inadequate explanation that Moses could not enter without permission, “But if God were to call him, then he may come into the cloud just like he did on Mount Sinai.” Rabbi Schwartzer goes on to pose his own hypothesis: “God simply was not ready.” Hence, Pekudei is followed by the opening of Leviticus with Vayikra, “and He [G-d] called Moses inside.”

It is akin to the title of Rabbi Lawrence Kushner’s autobiography: I’m G-d; You’re Not.

As a chaplain, how often have families challenged me at the most stressful moments with variations of where is G-d and why is G-d doing this to us now? Perhaps at these moments it is better to let G-d have a little distance, let the melachim, G-d’s angels as chaplains, friends, and family, do more of the heavy lifting. G-d will be closer again when G-d and we are ready.

This parsha comes just a few weeks after Purim, where G-d’s presence is not overtly in the Megillah, where more of the heavy lifting is done by the actors in the story, and yet we know G-d is probably somewhere behind the scenes and we will be closer again.

This parsha also comes this year one day before the yahrzeit for my first wife (Z”L). Perhaps HaShem could not be closer at the time of that loss because of the need for others to teach me that their presence might be just as powerful.

I believe it was Rabbi Hayim Donin in To Raise a Jewish Child who offers an explanation of why a parent needs to teach a child to swim: so that the child learns how to survive in a hostile environment (i.e., water over your head) and the parents learn when to hold on and when to let go.

Perhaps we are seeing the same in this strange metaphor at the end of Exodus 40: there are times when G-d or your parents is not holding on tightly but the presence is nearby and let that be reassuring.

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This week we meet one of the most powerful stories in Torah. Moses, Aaron, God and Israelites and the Golden Calf. No doubt you may encounter some of historical aspects of the story (see I Kings 12). The story is highlighted by the powerful scene of the “broken tablets” (Exodus 32:15-20) The “broken tablets” story has many meanings. The carrying of the broken tablets in the Ark, along with the new tablets, has received many interpretations. It is a beautiful image.

But the story also can speak to us as we get older and review our life’s choices. We have all experienced brokenness. What can this story mean for us now? Our broken dreams can reflect the disappointments in life that we have all experienced, maybe the dreams we have had that remain unfulfilled? There is a Midrash that says that Moses, advanced in years, was carrying the tablets down the mountain when he sees the Israelites dancing around the Calf. At that moment, the letters fly off the tablets which become too heavy for Moses and the tablets fall. The Midrash explains that when Moses felt that he was bringing something to people who were ready for it, he was filled with passion and purpose. He sees the reality, the people were not ready and thus he “had reason to suspect that his efforts were in vain, the task became too hard for him”. (Etz Hayim. 534)

We have all been there. We wished for something, we dreamt of something, we worked for something, and it just never came to be. We were broken. In her book “Sacred Therapy”, Estelle Frankel comments in this passage. She notes that the original tablets may reflect many of the dreams and hopes, and even spiritual structure of our youth. Then we live our life. Reality sets in and we learn. This story “teaches us that it is important to hold on to the beauty and essence of dreams that we once held dear, for our initial visions contain the seed of our purest essence. Gathering up the broken pieces suggests that we must salvage the essential elements of our youthful dreams and ideals and carry them forward on our journeys so that we can find a way to realize them in a more grounded fashion. For ultimately the whole and the broken live side by side in us all, as our broken dreams and shattered visions exist alongside our actual lives” ( “Sacred Therapy” p. 43)

Yes, we have all been there. We all have these moments of brokenness. This story, however, can teach us that we move on. We carry those moments with us as we write our own life’s journey and, we hope, that those moments help us to grow emotionally and spiritually. Our present is the result of our past; all of it.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Tetzaveh is the type of portion that can easily be overlooked. There is no great historical drama here. We find details, minute details on the construction of the Tabernacle and we include the vision of the elevation of the priesthood. This, if you follow classical literary criticism should come as no surprise as Torah is a priestly document and they made sure their power was underwritten. Rabbi Sacks (z’l) makes the point on this that in the portion we see the creation of an actual elite class, the priesthood.

This portion, as much of Torah, is also concerned with leadership. The efficacy of priestly leadership is noted here. It is surrounded by pomp and ceremony and spectacular dress. A key to the priestly dress code was the ephod, a sort of tunic fastened at the shoulders. Now this was not your ordinary piece of clothing (see 28:6ff). To add to the power of the dress, upon the ephod was to be placed a “breast piece of decision” (28:15) which will include stones representing the tribes and shall be worn over the ephod held by two gold rings. What is striking is that “Aaron shall carry the names of the sons of Israel on the breast piece of decision over his heart, when he enters the sanctuary, for remembrance before God at all times” (28:30)

In this scene, the leader shall carry over his heart, the representation of all the people. Leadership is not about self; it is about the sacred responsibility for the group. The leader carries symbolically the history of a people with them. This is a sacred and awesome responsibility. It is meant to be done with a true sense of humility. Indeed, for those of you who study Mussar, this should reflect that midah of anavah or humility. As Rabbi Leah Lewis wrote in her essay in “The Mussar Torah Commentary: “Power and prestige were given to the Kohen Gadol (“High Priest”) with the express purpose of serving God and others—and not to bolster the self” (p.126)

Lewis goes on to state that acting with humility does not mean that you relinquish your true self. Rather, I think, she reflects that true humility is a sense of self-assuredness that allows room for others to be their true self as well. I see this acceptance of self as part of who we become as we get older. Maybe it is that expression of “being comfortable in our own skin”? Whatever, it is a sense that we have no need to live as if to overwhelm, control or impress others. It is enough to try and “be” within my own soul, to be grateful for it and to celebrate it.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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V’asitah is a word that appears frequently in this week’s portion. “And you shall make” is the way this word is often translated. The portion revolves around the construction of the Tabernacle/Temple (see the companion Haftorah from I Kings). We are told to bring gifts as our heart so moves us to this project. No doubt your discussion at Torah study will look at the type of gifts that our hearts speak.

But this week I want to remind us of a gift is emerging as we speak, a gift that is being designed to assist the growing number of caregivers and people needing care. It is a glimpse into our future and a window into what may be possible for us as we continue to age. This is the gift of technology, and it is changing the landscape of caregiving as we speak.

This is beyond the smart phones or Alexa devices that many of us have. We are now entering the world of Artificial Intelligence and robotics. This is not fiction. This is all happening now. This Sunday, February 27, the Jewish Studies Department of Arizona State University will host an on-line conference entitled “Judaism, Jews and Artificial Intelligence: Machine Learning vs Enduring Wisdom” (https://asuevents.asu.edu/JSMG) The faculty will examine some of the technological, theological, ethical and practical implications of this new technology. Can it assist us in caregiving? Can robots help solve the issue of loneliness and isolation? Research has already shown that this may be true and growing number of facilities have begun to place robots in rooms or hallways. As Keren Etkin, a leader in this technology notes in her groundbreaking book “The AgeTech Revolution”: “developing technology to tackle the challenges of aging is the single most important opportunity of the next decade”.

This gift is being brought to us by a variety of companies. AI and robotics offer opportunities as well as challenges. Is this a gift that is for a select few? What about people who cannot afford these devices? What about the millions of people who could benefit but cannot access the technology because they lack access to internet? Will or can these devices supplant human connection or be a needed addition? There are a host of these concerns that are now emerging.

But this is true: this gift of technology is being and will continue to be brought to our tabernacles. How we seek to respond to this emerging “gift” will be fascinating to see.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we arrive at one of the seminal moments in Torah. Sinai. The Israelites gather at the mountain, and we witness, through the text, the Revelation at Sinai. The Decalogue. The Ten Words. The Revelation carries with it so much meaning and, no matter if you believe it literally or as a metaphor, the Midrash reminds us that in a very real way, each of us were there. Again, we are a people of history, linked from generation to generation.

However, a small diversion if you please. For, before the drama we encounter a little bit of practical management. Moses and his father in-law Jethro (for whom the portion is named) have a conversation about leadership. Moses realizes that this calling to lead this people, and remember they have already begun to complain, may be a little more than he can handle alone. Jethro advises him to delegate. The elders again are brought into the equation, but the lesson here is that real leadership may be the kind that brings in the people, empowers them and secures their involvement around a single vision. I mention this section because so many of our generation (and others) marvel now at the lack of visionary leadership. Indeed, we may be suffering from a leadership deficit.

So much of our world seems to be lacking in this sense of enlightened leadership where personal agendas are put aside in favor of the good of society. In his “The Failure of Nerve: Leadership In The Age Of The Quick Fix”, Edwin Friedman cites that so many groups, committees and organizations are inhabited by what he called “seatbelt society”. That is leadership that is “more oriented to safety than adventure”. Friedman argues that leaders need to focus on their own integrity. One can make the argument that Moses understood this as he knew that he needed to seek advice, got that advice, and then followed up. It was not about Moses, but how he could empower people to be part of the larger vision.

I mention this because we lack this sense of integrity and vision in so much of our world today. We do seem to reach for the “quick fix”, the instant answer rather than seeing that progress to a desired goal will take time. The Revelation provides the sense of vision for this emerging people. As you know, the actualization of that vision is still to be achieved. That continues to be our challenge in each generation, and, as such, we yearn for leadership that can guide us, support us and care for us with a sense of purpose and dignity.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week we meet a portion that is rich in visual impact. It should look great in the movie version as we have the Egyptians chasing the Israelites, the parting of the sea, a celebratory poem, and dances. We read the Mi Camocha and rejoice with Miriam and her timbral. The stage is being set for the Sinai event.

Yes, there is so much to unpack here. But let’s take a look at a verse that gives us another opportunity to see it in a way that speaks to so much of life. In 15:23ff we read that after the Sea of Reeds event the Israelites set out only to “march three days into the Wilderness and found no water. They came to Marah and could not drink of the waters of Marah for they were bitter”. These waters of Marah were bitter as the word marah says. Now notice a different reading attributed to the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism, quoted by Rabbi Abraham Twerski. The Baal Shem Tov “interprets the first verse with the pronoun they referring to the Israelites rather than the waters” (“Living Each Week”. P.141) Twerski notes that “a person who is depressed may complain that everything he eats has a bitter taste. In these instances, the bitterness is not in the food, but in one’s taste perception”

Do we know people like this? Do we know people who, as they age, become bitter, refusing to see the gift of life as precious and fragile? Are we aware people who choose to merely exist, waiting to die, rather than choosing to live, regardless of what life has handed them? Yes, each of us encounter losses and each of us, as we age, need to figure out ways to deal with these natural, and at time unexpected changes. Does this view of life as marah speak to the self-centered focus of an individual rather than a person who sees their life within a larger, more transcendent context?

Twerski, in his commentary, writes that the mitzvot and Torah can be guidelines or pathways to reduce that bitterness. In an age when we are witnessing such a rise in mental health issues, we need to be aware of the bitterness of perception. This is a real disease of the soul that threatens so many of us. We need to drink from the waters of gratitude and give thanks that we have life, the opportunity to engage and the chance to live and love.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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In many ways this week’s portion, Bo, presents us with several challenges. Pharaoh’s heart is “hardened” many times. God takes credit for this, and we contemplate why would God do such a thing? Is it just to prove God’s power? If so, why at the expense of the Israelites?

We encounter the final plagues as well. There is great drama here in the text including the powerful plague of darkness. It is this that got me thinking this week as to the images of darkness and light, the blessing that follows the Barchu that speaks of the creation of light and darkness and the imagery that we often associate with darkness. The text (10:21-23) describes this plague of darkness as thick, “a darkness that can be touched”. The commentator Sforno describes this type of darkness as one of a “deeper nature”. People were unable to see each other to which another commentator noted that “when a person does not see others or want to see them, there is darkness in the world”. A fitting commentary on our political world today.

But this idea of darkness also reminded me of that personal darkness that Sforno alludes to. This is a darkness of the spirit, the feeling that is deeply personal, the feeling of being cut off from everything and everyone. This really is a plague, and we are seeing the rise in this plague in a variety of manifestations. Interestingly, this plague of the soul’s darkness that Sforno refers to can have a response from tradition.

In their “Sparks Beneath The Surface”, Rabbis Olitzky and Kushner cite texts that speak to the aspect of creation and a primordial light. “The ordinary light that we see by was created on day four, but the light of day one was the light of ultimate awareness.” It is this light, deep within each of us, that is this Divine aspect, the light that is all too often hidden. This is the light of our own liberation, our own freedom from the slavery of the plague of darkness of the soul. It is always there, from the very moment of our own creation. It is always available to us to light our path to our own fulfillment….if we but choose to see it.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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And so, the drama begins. Our portion this week begins the back-and-forth drama of the Exodus. We see the confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh, God hardening Pharoah’s heart and the first of the plagues. An interesting question: is God playing with us? He commands Moses and Aaron and hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Are we pawns being played for God’s amusement? And what about the continued suffering of the Israelites?

There is much to unpack in this portion. We begin with the recitation of God’s name El Shadei and how it was revealed to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Now it is revealed to Moses in another form, the yud, heh, vov, hey. So many names! Remember last Shabbat God was revealed to Moses at the bush as Ehyeh! We are reminded, perhaps, that the Divine is revealed to us in many ways and at different stages of life.

There are also a few words in this portion that may relate to many of us. In chapter 6 we read that Moses tells the Israelites of God’s promise to liberate them from their hardships but
“when Moses told this to the Israelites they would not listen, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage” The Hebrew is m’kotzter ruach Rabbi Sarah Bassin, in a commentary from a few years ago, notes a Rashi comment seeing ruach as breath, as in the hard labor made it difficult to breathe. This word can also be understood, writes Rabbi Bassin, as “spirit”, as in the fact that the circumstances of the Israelites crushed their spirits. How many of us in our life’s journey had felt like this, crushed under the weight of life’s challenges, stressed to the limit, feeling overwhelmed and anxious; often unable to hear the support that is being offered?

Stress is a powerful modality for all of us. It comes, as we all know, in many ways, often suddenly. It is, in a very real way, a plague. How we choose to deal with it often can determine much of our life. Maybe we can see these times in a different light. In the January 6 issue of the Weekly Guardian, an article “Under Pressure” ask us to consider that stress can

be, in certain circumstances, a positive. The piece proposes that stress can play a key role in strengthening the immune system and creating new pathways in the brain that can build “the resilience we need to navigate our way through life”.

As we get older, we have many choices of how to deal with the stresses that confront us, from illness to family dynamics and more. We too are often kotzer ruach! But we can learn the source of these stresses and choose to understand their place in life and this how to deal with. Many are out of our control. All are subject to our choice as to how to live with them and move on to a sense of liberation.

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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So, we come to the Book of Exodus and the famous beginning that a new Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph. This begins the story of Egyptian slavery. We meet the heroines who saved young Moses. The text quickly telescopes time to bring us the events of the killing of the taskmaster, Moses’ assimilation and eventually his “call” (Ex. 3).

SO many questions in this portion. What was it that was triggered in Moses that made him strike the Egyptian. Like Joseph in Genesis, can you ever deny your family or origin? The burning bush image as well elicits similar questions as with Jacob’s ladder: we hear the call of the divine only when we are ready to receive it.

That is something I wish to raise this week. When are we ready to hear that “call”? Many go through their whole life never hearing it, or even listening for it. Some deny it when they hear it. Are we always ready to receive that sacred calling? It may not be a dramatic “aha” moment. More than likely, as many of us have experienced, it is a slow developing feeling that something is different in my life and soul, and I need to pay attention to it.

Perhaps at that moment, Moses, was ready to receive that message. Maybe years earlier it would not have made sense, much like advice our parents gave us when we were younger that only in maturity do we fully understand. Life experience again is a great teacher. In that vein, a message that we can draw from this portion is that we can always be open to the new, the surprises of life. The miracles of everyday life, as expressed in the prayer service, remind us that we need to be open to the miracles of existence. Life is so precious that we need to be open to the awe and amazement of living.

Or, to channel Heschel: “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement…get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed”

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Editor’s Note: This is a guest d’var torah from our partners at Neshama: Association of Jewish Chaplains. You can see more of their resources and contributions here. (For more information, please visit najc.org.)

This portion marks the conclusion of Sefer Bereshit, also known as Genesis. Jacob dies, Joseph dies and an entire generation comes to a close. Yet the portion is called “Vayechi” – And he (Jacob) lived. The narrative is filled not with death but with blessings. In fact, whenever there is an End-of-Life encounter during the Patriarchal narratives of Genesis, there are blessings. Some of the blessings come from God and some from the human Biblical figures. What might they teach us?

Patriarchal blessings have many purposes. Some patriarchal deathbed blessings (such as Isaac’s blessing to Jacob following the “blessing-stealing from Esau” debacle) are meant to convey a positive message to the recipients, much as ethical wills throughout our history have conveyed moral ideas and heartfelt wishes. (For some wonderful examples, see Riemer and Stampher’s Ethical Wills in Judaism, New York: Schocken, 1983). Some of the blessings (such as some of Jacob’s to his children in this Torah reading) are prophetic in nature, (at least in the Midrashic understanding of these blessings). Others (some of Jacob’s other blessings here, such as those to Reuven, Shimon and Levi) can be mildly termed “constructive criticisms.”

Divine blessings require a little more study to understand their intent. What exactly does the Torah mean when it says, for example, that God blessed Isaac (see Genesis 25:11) after Abraham’s death? A most beautiful Talmudic passage (Sotah 14a) sees God’s blessing of Isaac after his father Abraham’s death as the classic model for nihum avelim, comforting the bereaved. “Just as God comforts the bereaved, so too you comfort the bereaved….” say the rabbis. Thus, the heavenly blessing is really a Divine form of gemilut hasadim, pastoral or spiritual care of the mourners that we are bidden to imitate in human form. In essence, God’s presence at times of crisis and sadness can be seen as a comforting blessing. We take our lead from the Holy One by offering our blessings as well to those who suffer loss but are still in life.

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Parsha Vayigash
Genesis 44:18 – 47:27
Shabbat, Saturday, December 31, 2022

This week, the Torah parsha is spiritually efficient. The topic sentence, to me, is only two words: “Avi Chai?” If you know it, hear why it resonates so deeply to me. If you are not familiar with it, fasten your seat belts, as they say. “Avi Chai?” sits with “Bo” (Go again to the Pharaoh) and “Lech Lecha” (go forth from where you are) as a streamlined route to deep meaning.

As this week’s parsha opens, patriarch Jacob is home in the Holy Land, l’vado, existentially alone. Jacob has sent the sons he still knows down to Egypt. Jacob’s neighborhood has famine. Word has reached them that Egypt anticipated the famine, has grain in storage, and perhaps, just perhaps, Jacob’s sons can persuade the viceroy in Egypt to sell them some of the grain. And so the sons journey to Egypt.

Unbeknownst to all, the viceroy in Egypt, who has the power to sell them the grain, also has the power to nourish their souls. The viceroy is Joseph, the son Jacob has been taught to accept as deceased, and the brother to the travelers who also thought their brother had died, through their own actions.

Without proof, Jacob cannot be sure son Joseph has died. Professor Pauline Boss, of the University of Minnesota, calls this “ambiguous loss,” grief trying to connect the head and the heart when there is no body, no visual proof. Joseph, the son stranded in Egypt, is in limbo with no information on his father … for twenty-two years, a very, very long time in those days, despite Biblical hyperbole.

Estrangement was an open wound then, and is an open wound now. It is truly a “tale as old as time.” In its rawest form, estrangement reflects people whose genealogy says they are related, where morals, ethics, and the law say these people should care for each other, and they couldn’t care less … on the surface. They know exactly how long it has been since they have last spoken to each other. They, too, might not even know who is still alive.

Surveying reports 27% of Americans today say they are estranged from at least one person in their family. As a statistician, I truly feel the number is higher.

More than one hospital patient over my career has remarked to me that family drives right past their hospital but does not stop. More than once, I have had to place estranged families in separate comfort rooms for the doctor to break the same bad news, twice, that a family member has died.

Take another perspective, from American survey research in October 2022 in anticipation of the upcoming holidays which used to focus on families getting together. One thousand

Americans, split evenly into moms, dads, grandmothers, and grandfathers, were asked what they really want this holiday season. The two biggest choices were “Time with Family,” and “Gift Card.” Surprise? or No Surprise? “Gift Card” was always consistently preferred over “Time with Family,” as much as 2.7 times higher among the moms surveyed.

The obsession of the U.S. Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, is loneliness, the pandemic that was there before the Covid pandemic and has returned to the number one position. Estrangement correlates with loneliness.

Vayigash teaches that reconciliation can overcome estrangement. First, consider how it happens, the set-up, as they say in drama. You can go through therapy, you can go through mind rehearsals of what you are going to say if and when you meet this estranged relative again. However, as is often the case, HaShem has another plan in mind, a plan where reconciliation is possible through a spontaneous encounter, and, in those spontaneous encounters, your true feelings emerge in an unrehearsed script.

The late Dr. D’arcy Sims used to teach conferences of bereaved parents, “the head may know, the heart may know, but there is a moment when they both connect.” This is the moment best expressed in hugs and tears. Tears are the lubricant of the soul. Native Americans teach, “The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears.”

In the parsha, the brothers have arrived in Egypt seeking grain. Viceroy and Brother Joseph first appears as a stranger, perhaps because of the way he looks or dresses, perhaps because the 22 years of estrangement has changed appearances, perhaps because the brothers do not expect the viceroy to be Joseph, and we might have mistaken identity.

Vayigash, means, “And he approached.” Here, Judah approached Joseph, who is in disguise. Joseph asks Judah about his family. As Dr. Sims would teach, Joseph’s head and heart are connecting, faster for Joseph than for Judah. Joseph knows his family is in front of him. How to handle this moment? How to handle this opportunity for reconciliation?

Joseph lets his heart lead his head. Joseph becomes farklempt, Yiddish for choked up and about to cry, so Joseph sends his own team of servants away from him quickly. Then, Joseph spontaneously wept so loud that his primal scream was heard all the way into the house of Pharaoh.

Joseph’s startled brothers had no time to ask why he was screaming and weeping because Joseph immediately decided to reveal himself. What words were locked inside Joseph yearning to be spontaneously freed at this moment? Were the words going to be, “I am your brother, nice to see you? How are you? Did our father die? Is our father alive?”

The actual words are, “I am Joseph, your brother. Avi chai?” Avi chai is usually translated, “Is my father alive?”

I prefer a different translation. My chaplain’s translation of Avi Chai becomes, “Does my father still have life in him? “Is my father alive?” moves us towards the scientific answer of vital signs, e.g., pulse and respirations. Yes, they might still be there. Yet, estrangement can still suck the life out of you in other ways. “Does my father still have life in him?” opens the door to the emotional set of vital signs.

Rabbi Karyn Kedar offered, “Ha’od avi chai, does my father live?”

After that, in this parsha, Joseph fell on his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, and Benjamin wept on his neck. This is more than a Hollywood ending, It happens in real life. I have seen it. My neck has felt it.

Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, taught that when Joseph revealed himself to his brothers, Joseph reinterpreted the past by telling his brothers not to be distressed and angry because they sold Joseph into slavery in Egypt.

Rabbi Sacks taught, “We cannot fully understand what is happening to us now until we can look back in retrospect and see how it all turned out….We are not held captive by the past. Things can happen to us, not as dramatically as to Joseph perhaps, but nonetheless benign, that can completely alter the way we look back and remember. By action in the future, we can redeem the past.”

Therapist Joshua Coleman, writing on his specialty of estrangement in The Atlantic, January 10, 2021, commented, “However they arrive at estrangement, parents and adult children seem to be looking at the past and present through very different eyes. Estranged parents often tell me that their adult child is rewriting the history of their childhood.”

Instead, may we and they be blessed to apply the Friday evening teaching from the 1978 edition of the Reform Prayer Book, Gates of the House. After the Shabbat candles are lighted, we pray together, “Blessed is the house in which the hearts of the children are turned to the parents, and the hearts of the parents to the children.”

Kein Y’hi Ratzon – May it be God’s Will.

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Miketz presents us with a portion of drama, pathos, triumph and chance. Joseph emerges from prisoner to person of power thanks to his ability to interpret dreams. He begins this portion in prison and ends the portion as a powerful member of Pharaoh’s court as he welcomes a group of people in search of food and comfort. The drama of the end of the portion sets up the powerful reunion scene for next week, as his brothers, as if fulfilling a previous dream, bow down to him (42:6-8).

Dreams play a powerful role in these portions. Likewise, Joseph’s interpretation of Pharaoh’s dreams in chapter 41. The theme of good years and bad years is one that I wish to suggest to us for this Shabbat, for it struck me that this speaks to so many of us at this stage of life. It is reflective of the Alvin Fine prayer “Birth is a beginning and death a destination” that we find in prayer books. The image of the journey of life speaks to us in so many ways, reminding us, as we look back and ahead, that our own journey is often made up of good and bad moments and again, how we choose to deal with this reality often determines who we are.

There is a wonderful interpretation on this idea found in Etz Hayim, the commentary from the Conservative movement. The commentary cites the classical commentary of S’fat Emet on Genesis 41:5 ff (the two dreams of Pharaoh) who asks what we can learn from the portion when we face moments of holiness and then moments when holiness is absent? “The author of S’fat Emet answers his own question. We must store up resources of faith, even as the Egyptians stored grain, to nourish us spiritually when events turn against us.” (p.250)

Each of us have these “resources of faith”; moments, memories, people that gave us strength, meaning and purpose, comfort, inspiration or support. When the lean years or moments of life visit us, we need to tap into that reservoir of faith that allow us to bridge the moments of challenge. This idea can be life affirming, for each of us deals with these moments of challenge in life. Our own journey is that cycle of growth and retreat, defeat and victory. So tis Shabbat, the Torah can ask each of us, what have you stored in your storehouse of memory that can support you when life’s challenges confront us?

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Once again in this week’s portion we are presented with a variety of issues. As the favored son of Jacob’s old age, Joseph emerges as a major player. He dreams of power over his brothers and, through interesting circumstances, finds himself in Egypt and a strange encounter with Potiphar’s wife. The role of dreams is central to these chapters as the psychological interpretation of Joseph as the ego driven teen is present in a variety of commentaries. No doubt many of you will delve into these early chapters of the portion this Shabbat.

However, I want to raise another passage with you this week. The question is how far will one go to seek a rightful place in society or to achieve what one thinks is right? Take a look at Genesis 38. Inserted in the Joseph cycle is this chapter featuring Tamar, the daughter in law of Judah who is widowed. Torah culture demanded that the brother of her husband marry her to extend the line. Yet, this does not happen. A promise is made that eventually she will become the wife of another brother-in-law, Shelah, who was not ready to be a husband/mate. Tamar, tired of this, left to return to her father’s home. Tamar, in 38:14ff, “plays the harlot”, sleeps with Judah, and becomes pregnant. The end of the chapter recounts this vivid drama in which Judah is exposed by Tamar’s trickery and survives rather than being killed. She gives birth to twins, who struggle in the womb.One of the children born becomes a precursor of the Davidic line, so a classic interpretation is that behind all of this is the “hand of God”. When you read the story, that theological foundation may seem a reach, but tradition always seeks a reason why a story appears in Torah.

Tamar, in keeping with the Leverite marriage customs, should have waited for Shelah. But she decided not to conform, rather, she decides to be herself, get what she wishes and break from conformity. “Tamar actively takes steps to change her destiny, by an act that defies the patriarchal order, in the interest of allowing her, ultimately, to fulfill herself according to its terms.” (Leila Leah Bronner quoted in” Biblical Women in the

Midrash”. Naomi M Hyman. P.73). So, a question for this Shabbat; how many of us have had moments in life when we were faced with a choice of “play by the rules” or do what we must, to follow our heart and what we feel is right? Is Tamar a heroine? How much courage did it take for her—or for us—to follow our heart rather than always following the rules? I suggest, if you go to Torah study this Shabbat, that a conversation about Tamar may be very relevant.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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This week’s portion takes us on a wild ride that goes from reconciliation to revenge. Jacob reconnects with Esau, wrestles with an angel/himself/his legacy, and has his identity “changed” only to be followed by the graphic and challenging story of Dinah.

Much of this portion revolved around the meeting of Jacob and Esau after so many years of estrangement. There is the familiar Biblical motif of water (The River Jabbok), his being alone, the encounter with God and the eventual reconciliation. Jacob and Esau see that they have been blessed, the past remains in the past and they, in essence, agree to move on with their lives. The scene is powerful in 32:4 as the brothers see each other after so many years and they embrace and Esau kisses Jacob and they weep. Do they become closer as brothers? It does not seem so. They meet again in the portion to bury Isaac, reflecting so many stories of family estrangement that are resolved to a point but never is closeness achieved. People meet at life-cycle events, and then return to their lives; a story that is being played out in so many families now.

There are many lessons for us in this portion. One that I want to offer this week is based on time and growth. In her masterful book “Wrestling With Angels”, Naomi Rosenblatt notes that reconciliation in families takes time. “It takes Jacob twenty years to work through his issues of sibling rivalry. His story shows us that reconciliation is not a passive process. Both sides must want it and be prepared for the pain of the process…Only after years of anguish and painful self-examination could they embrace and weep with relief in each other’s arms” (p.302)

There may be people reading this now who are living the Jacob and Esau story. Perhaps the Torah is telling us that time changes us. We are not the same as we were. Jacob has grown, life has dealt him challenges and concerns that have allowed him to grow and mature and maybe realize what was important before, is not in the present. So too with so many of us. Maturation of our souls, the creation of a what we may call a “mature spirituality” is, we hope, part of each of our stories. How we “wrestle” with our pasts and emerge changed and renewed is a constant challenge, often played out in the depths of our souls. But again, we have that choice to be open to wrestle with our pasts so that we can meet our future.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Vayetze is another of the Genesis portions that contain a wealth of issues. The main thrust of this portion is Jacob’s return to his mother’s homeland, to Laban’s household, and the “romance” between Jacob, Leah, and Rachel. There is Laban’s trickery on Jacob, another instance of infertility, concubines and the birth of what will emerge as the tribes. Jacob must deal with time, as he is married to Leah and must wait more time until he is with his first love, Rachel. Even Jacob and his entourage, as they try to leave to return to Jacob’s homeland, is filled with drama.

But we return to the very beginning of the passage, to one of the most famous of stories in Torah, that of Jacob’s ladder or stairway (sulam). Jacob flees from his home, as per the instructions of his mother Rebecca, and, weary from running, falls asleep. (Chapter28). He dreams and sees this ladder or stairway that was set on the ground and reaching to the sky “and angels of God were going up and coming down”. (28:12). Countless commentaries have been written about this most famous story. I have no doubt that many will be discussed as you study this passage this Shabbat.

Let us, however, try and focus on something that, I feel, relates to our generation. We read that angels are going up and then down. Interesting because one would assume that angels would be coming down from heaven. Yet, here we read that the angels were going up first.

Play with that image for a bit and think about the meaning of what an angel could be. Not in a supernatural way, although Judaism has a rich history of angels, many of which have specific roles, rather angels in a very present human way. In our lives, who are the angels who help us, support us and, in many instances, elevate us to a higher plane of living?

As we get older, as we realize that we often need help in ways we never did before, we often come to rely on these modern “angels”. Certainly, those of us who have walked the caregiver walk know first-hand that we often have encountered modern angels. You may be one yourself! Our angels do help people, us, to live better and to be able to function in so many ways. These angels may be friends who, no matter what, have been there for us in all kinds of situations. They lift us up. So who are your angels, because we each have them and how many time have we been in a situation when we “awoke” to understand that they have always been there…but we were not aware.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Richard F Address

RabbiAddress@JewishSacredAging.com

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Editor’s Note: This D’var Torah was originally published on ReformJudaism.org, and is republished here by permission of the author.

Tol’dot, Genesis 25:19−28:9

Have you ever felt like nobody was there?
Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?
Have you ever felt like you could disappear?
Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

These are the opening words to the musical “Dear Evan Hansen.” For many of us, myself included, they resonate because we know those feelings all too well. We know them personally, and we may also know people in our lives who feel that way, even when we are there for them. We feel alone, unheard, or unnoticed.

Is that how Rebecca felt? We see glimpses of her inner dialogue at the beginning and end of this week’s Torah portion. In the opening verses of Parashah Tol’dot, Rebecca becomes pregnant with twins.

The babies jostled each other within her, and she inquired of Adonai, “Why do I exist?” (Genesis 25:22) There is an answer given, but not to Rebecca’s question:

Adonai said to her, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you will be separated; one people will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger.” (Genesis 25:23)

The answer explains the jostling, but that was not Rebecca’s question. She did not ask about the pain, she asked about her purpose; she wanted something to help her push through the pain.

At the end of the Torah portion, Rebecca again asks questions about the purpose of her life. She fears that her son Jacob will, like his brother Esau, marry someone from outside the Israelite tribes. She shares her pain with her husband Isaac:

If Jacob takes a wife from among the women of this land…, my life will not be worth living. (Genesis 27:46)

Isaac pays attention to Rebecca and tells their son Jacob to travel to his cousins to find a wife, but he does not respond to Rebecca’s deeper questions around worthiness.

Both Jacob and God ignore the significant questions Rebecca is asking about her role in this narrative, in the founding of our people, and in her family. Perhaps she is feeling trapped or hopeless, that she cannot cope with her circumstances, and perhaps she wants help.

As a woman I wonder what role the reality of motherhood plays in her understanding of her sense of self. When she asks why she exists, or when she says that her life may not be worth living, these may be indications of her own mental health struggles.

The rise in suicidal ideation, suicide, anxiety, depression, and substance abuse has received a lot of attention in the media, education, and healthcare. Much of the focus has been around access to healthcare, changes in educational focus, and creating healthy lifestyles. Not enough attention is focused on how each one of us, as individuals, may regularly hear others express their concerns, needs, and desire for help. And there has been very little reported on the challenges around peripartum depression that exists for many women. Too often we respond like God and Isaac, trying to solve the problem on the surface, rather than listening closely. Or, when we do hear, we do not know how to help; we worry that we will say or do the wrong thing, or that we will not be enough, so we do nothing.

Several summers ago, when I was on staff at URJ Camp Harlam, I participated in Mental Health First Aid. Mental Health First Aid is a national day-long training that teaches participants the skills to respond to signs of mental illness and substance abuse. Just like traditional first aid, the underlying theory is that even those who are not mental health professionals can learn to identify, understand, and respond to mental health or substance use challenges. The people most likely to be able to help someone struggling with mental illness in the moment of crisis are those closest to the person. What would our community look like if we had the same basic skills for mental wounds that we do for physical ones?

I learned in rabbinical school from my teacher, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, that Torah is not real because it happened, it is real because it happens. In this 3,000-year-old text, we see every element of human expression and relationships. This week, we read Rebecca’s words questioning her existence. We cannot diagnose or treat her, or even determine if her question was rhetorical or her comments hyperbolic. We can pay attention to the words she says. The same is true of the individuals in our lives. We cannot know more about what they are saying to us unless we pay attention and respond. Too many of us are hesitant to respond without training, so we do what God and Isaac did, we try to solve the surface problems, or give responses that are not answers. This too can cause harm.

As the song in Dear Evan Hansen promises, “There’s a place where we don’t have to feel alone… and every time that you call out, you’re a little less alone.” As we read Rebecca’s story this week, consider what you can do to help this place exist in your home, your synagogue, your place of work, your school. Rebecca asks why she exists. I ask why we exist, if not to ensure that we can be there for one another .

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This week’s portion again challenges us in a variety of ways. Chayai Sarah begins with Sarah’s death and commentaries are filled with the discussions as to the reason. A broken heart? Old age? The trauma of the Akedah?Abraham immediately fulfills the mitzvah to bury the dead and negotiates a proper burial. Genesis 24 begins with a very interesting brief verse. We are told that “Abraham was old, (zakain) advanced in years, and God blessed him in all things”.

The death of Sarah and the realization that he is aging lead Abraham to decide that he needed to put things in order and one of the unresolved issues was the fact that Isaac was not yet married. The rest of 24 is this wonderful story of the quest for a bride for Isaac, the meeting of Rebecca at the well and the final scene when the two meet. Pay particular attention to the last verse of 24 and the order of how Isaac and Rebecca evolve their relationship. Interesting issues continue as once the bride has been obtained, Abraham marries again, has several children, and eventually dies. (25:7ff). And notice that at his funeral, Ishmael and Isaac reunite for the funeral. No mention of them was made attending Sarah’s. Like many families, estranged members meet at a life cycle, often a funeral, and then go their separate ways.

This portion speaks to us in so many ways. What does it mean to be blessed? Some commentaries allude to the fact that Abraham was blessed with material wealth. But for us, when we ask ourselves as to our own blessings as we age, how often do we focus on the non-material aspects of life: friends, family, memories, etc. Abraham is also blessed with the ability to be able to move on.

I think that this is an often-overlooked message from this passage. Many of us, at this stage of life, have experienced losses. A challenge often is how do we, or can we move on from these losses. Many seem stuck in a past, unable, or unwilling to see that life moves on. Yet here is Abraham who, following his mourning for his wife, gets up and gets back to living. He had a choice to stay in the past, we all do. But he rose up and moved forward. There is a valuable lesson here. It is a lesson for all of us that life always goes on and that we can honor those we have lost more by taking their memory and life into the future with us. It is for many, difficult and there is NO time frame that fits every person or circumstance. Rituals, community, and friends help. Our tradition, in the form of Abraham, sends us a very personal message. We never forget what was and hold those memories dear, but we, like our Patriarch, move on into life, held, we hope, by love, compassion, the gift of memory and a thirst for life.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Richard F Address

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Vayera presents us with one of the most powerful and challenging portions in Torah. It is filled with classic images and great moral questions. It begins with the mitzvah of hospitality and the proof [Read more...]

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This week Moses comes to realization that he will soon die. The portion begins (31:2) with the recognition that at 120 years of age “I can no longer be active”. The Hebrew words, la’tzeit [Read more...]

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Ki Tetze is a portion that will keep any Torah study participant busy for hours. It has combination of themes from social justice issues to treatment of captives, from medical ethics to marriage and [Read more...]

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This week’s portion is quite well known. Many of the portion’s verses find their way into so many prayer books, private prayers etc. Just look at the beginning of the portion (4:44) and the [Read more...]

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This week’s portion presents us with some interesting challenges. Balak has the famous story of the talking ass and Bilaam’s blessing of the Israelites instead of the curse which he was hired to deliver. The [Read more...]

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There are many lessons in this week’s portion. We are reminded again that, you do not mess with the God of the Torah. The punishment is often death. Korach, and his followers find that [Read more...]

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This week’s Torah portion, Naso, presents us with a variety of themes. There is the strange ritual of the sotah (chapter 5) on the one hand; and in Numbers 6, the description of what has [Read more...]

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God speaks to the Israelites in the wilderness. Thus begins the Book of Numbers, a book that details much of the Wilderness experience. The portion counts people, days and generations. No doubt, those of you [Read more...]

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This is not an easy portion. This is not an easy week to discuss it. It seems that the curses promised in the portion are all too true. When the text promises misery to us [Read more...]

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This week’s portion, Behar, contains a wealth of challenges. We meet again the Sabbatical and Jubilee years. (25) and a series of injunctions that relate to the land, its use and issues related to redeeming a “brother” [Read more...]

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In this week’s portion, we read that no one “that has a defect ” (moom) is allowed to perform a variety of rituals. We read this in the context of laws and commands that deal [Read more...]

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You shall be holy because I, your God, am holy” (Lev.19:1)With this statement, one of the most famous and powerful Torah portions begins. The 19thchapter of Leviticus , the so-called “Holiness Code—provides us with a [Read more...]

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This Shabbat finds us celebrating both Shabbat and Passover’s first full day. The Torah reading comes from Exodus and the story of the command to observe this day and to teach the children and to [Read more...]

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The Book of Exodus is completed. The Tabernacle is finished. Our portion begins with an accounting of the Tabernacle’s construction. The “records” (p’kuday) are detailed in the portion as if to say that everything in this [Read more...]

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What a powerful and dramatic portion we have this week. B’shelach will keep us very busy. From the drama of the Sea of Reeds to Miriam’s song (see the mi camocha and chapter 15), to [Read more...]

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A new Pharaoh arose and our history changed again. The Book of Exodus opens with this simple, yet, significant phrase that signaled the shift in Jewish history. The portion is rich in story lines. We [Read more...]

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As “The People of the Book,” we should know how to end a book. Vayechi is the end of the first book in our Book of Books, in our canon. Vayechi concludes Bereshit, the first [Read more...]

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The post Vayetze (Genesis 28:10-32:3)..Who Are Your Angels? appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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Last Sunday afternoon. I am sitting at my son’s house in between him and my nine-year-old grandson. We are watching football. There are memories of my dad taking me to games when I was a [Read more...]

The post Toldot (Genesis 25:19-28:9) Esau as Caregiver? An Ancient Story and a Modern Challenge. appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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This week’s portion presents us again with a wide variety of issues. Yet, the theme, I suggest, that unites them is that of relationships; from their loss to the emergence of ones that are new. [Read more...]

The post Chaiyai Sarah: (Genesis 23:1-25:17) We Need To Be Needed! appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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The richness of this week’s portion is evident from the opening verses in which Abraham invites “messengers” into his tent; two mitzvoth emerge from this act; that of hospitality and that of visiting the sick [Read more...]

The post Vayera (Genesis 18:1-22:24): Who Will Argue For Justice? appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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