Torah from JTS
Service of the Heart (‫)בלה תדובע‬: Exploring Prayer
This week’s column was written by Rabbi Samuel Barth, senior lecturer in
Liturgy and Worship, JTS.
Va-ethannan 5773
Jerusalem
As we emerge from our encounter with destruction and desolation on Tish’ah
Be’Av, we approach Shabbat Nahamu, named for the opening words of the
haftarah “Nahamu nahamu ami” (Be comforted, oh be comforted My people;
Isa. 40:1). This becomes the week when we allow ourselves to encounter all the
images of Jerusalem that are presented to us as signs and symbols of hope in our
liturgy.
Each day of the week, the 14th blessing of the ‘Amidah implores, “Return in
mercy to Jerusalem, Your city” (Siddur Sim Shalom for Weekdays, 40). In the
context of the ‘Amidah, both this blessing and the next speak of the far future
at the “end of days”—eschatological times. While this may be the case, based
upon the metaphor of Zechariah 8:3, there are many who see the present reality
of a renewed and rebuilt Jerusalem as a sign that we have moved forward from
the destruction of Tish’ah Be’Av. In birkat hamazon (blessing after meals), the
third blessing is perhaps a little less “messianic,” focusing upon God as “bonei
Yerushaliyim” (God Who builds Jerusalem; Siddur Sim Shalom for Weekdays,
233). The present tense of the verb reflects an active and ongoing process of
building.
Looking back at the lessons drawn by our Sages, who identified contentiousness
among the Jewish People as one of the factors leading to the destruction of
Tish’ah Be’Av, perhaps we might learn ways in which we can build unity and
universal love among the Jewish People that will eventually result in the renewed
fabric of Jerusalem—significant steps in harmony with the values of ultimate
Redemption. Perhaps the current efforts to find a way in which all the Jewish
People can pray in their own way at the Kotel is a “test case” presented for solution
to us, the Jewish People. Many, including our children, are watching; perhaps we
are also being watched, and judged, by the One from Whom nothing is hidden.
May we each find our way to become partners in the true, but gritty, difficult, and
even political work of building a Jerusalem that reflects God’s love for all humanity,
recalling God’s vision that “My house will be called a beyt tefillah [a House of
Prayer] for all people” (Isa. 56:7).
As always, I am interested in hearing comments and reflections on these thoughts
about prayer and liturgy. You may reach me at [email protected].
For more information about JTS programs and events, or
to learn more about JTS, please visit www.jtsa.edu.
Parashah Commentary
This week’s commentary was written by Rabbi Leonard A. Sharzer, MD,
associate director for Bioethics of the Louis Finkelstein Institute for Religious
and Social Studies, JTS.
Separation and Connectedness
In Parashat Va-ethannan, Moses seems to have finally come to accept that he will not
enter the Promised Land with the People, whom he liberated from Egyptian slavery
and guided during a 40-year trek through the wilderness. As he concludes his first
oration, he recalls his pleading with God to allow him to enter the Land, a plea that
was denied because of his response to the demand of the People for water. Now, no
longer pleading for a pardon, or even a commutation of the sentence, he exhorts the
People to follow God’s commandments and the teachings he, Moses, has transmitted
to them. In his exhortation, he reminds them of all that God has done for them, and
reminds them of both the importance and uniqueness of God’s actions.
He asks,
(1) Has anything as grand as this ever happened, or (2) has its like ever
been known? (3) Has any people heard the voice of a god speaking out of a
fire, as you have, and survived? Or (4) has any god ventured to go and take
for himself any nation from the midst of another by prodigious acts, by signs
and portents, by war, by a mighty and an outstretched arm and awesome
power, as the Lord your God did for you in Egypt before your very eyes?
(Deut. 4:32–34; JPS translation)
These questions, Rashi tells us, were asked bi-t’mihah, rhetorically. It is the fourth
of these questions that I find most intriguing: “Ha-nissah elohim lavo lakahat lo goy
mi-kerev goy” (Has a god ever tried to extract one people from within another)?
This act, as the Torah understands it, is sui generis. It is something that has never
occurred before and could not occur except by divine intervention, by a miracle. The
Torah does not ask if a god had ever done this, but if a god had ever even tried. The
word the Torah uses for “try” or “venture,” ha-nissah, contains within it and alludes
to the word for miracle, nes. This extraction is indeed extraordinary, supernatural—
miraculous.
The Torah’s word mi-kerev is equally laden with many overtones. One of its
connotations is nearness, proximity, hence “from within” or “from the midst of.” In the
descriptions of the sacrifices in Leviticus, kerev is used to refer to the entrails, the
insides, the guts of an animal. This sense of kerev is found in numerous midrashim
that liken God’s taking the Israelites out of Egypt to a person (adam) removing a fetal
calf from a cow (parah)—or, more graphically, to a shepherd reaching his hand into
the womb of an animal (beheimah) to remove a fetus (ubar), particularly one not yet
ready to be born (lo bizmano). The image is a violent one and a play on the word
k’rav, meaning battle. The point is that, although the Israelites were distinct from the
Egyptians, they were inextricably interconnected, just as a fetus is part of its mother’s
body (ubar yerekh imo) until it is born. Anyone who has witnessed a birth can attest to
its miraculous nature, as well as to the pain (to both mother and fetus) caused by the
disruption of the connectedness.
The singular and extraordinary nature of taking the Israelites out of Egypt may have
relevance to two quite different phenomena in our times, which are, in some ways,
polar opposites: the desire for greater connection, on one hand, and for separation,
on the other.
We speak about the importance of keruv, of providing ways of “drawing near” those
who have been marginalized and excluded by traditional Judaism and its institutions.
We generally think of keruv in terms of inclusiveness and welcoming. Perhaps
we should be thinking more in terms of the kind of kerev the midrash envisioned
regarding the Israelites in Egypt–an integration so deep and complete that separation
would not only be painful, but would require divine intervention. I am not suggesting
any particular actions or programs—I leave that to others with greater experience
than I—but rather to a way of conceptualizing our goals in dealing with those who
have been kept separate and apart.
The flip side of the coin is, of course, peoples who want to be separated. We have
witnessed throughout history, and sadly even in our times, attempts at separation
and expulsions. They are painful and destructive. We see the situation in Israel with
two peoples who might well consider it desirable to be completely separated from
each other, but who are inextricably connected, linked to a degree that separation
would require a “miracle,” and “act of God.” Parashat Va-ethannan tells us that prior
to the Exodus, not only had such a separation never happened, but no god had even
attempted it, and surely no human. It is a vain hope.
As with keruv, I have no practical program to suggest, but it seems to me that the
Torah is telling us that barring separation by divine intervention, we had better find
a way to get along with those with whom we are irretrievably interconnected. On
the other hand, it is within our power, and I would add that it is our responsibility, to
integrate the marginalized and excluded among us.
The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a
generous grant from Rita Dee and Harold (z”l) Hassenfeld.
A Taste of Torah
A commentary written by Rabbi Matthew Berkowitz, director of Israel Programs,
JTS.
Humility Toward God, Even in Victory
Parashat Va-ethannan, the second Torah reading of the book of Deuteronomy, places
much of its emphasis on the loyal observance of mitzvot, God’s commandments.
Asylum cities are established in Transjordan, the people are repeatedly warned
against idolatry, the Covenant is established in Moab, the Decalogue is repeated,
and the text of the Shema’ and its first paragraph appears. More than that, a line in
the ‘aleinu prayer that is repeated by observant Jews three times daily makes its
Toraitic debut: “Know therefore this day and keep in mind that the Lord alone is God
in heaven above and on the earth below; there is no other” (Deut. 4:39). What is the
original import of this particular verse, and how does it affect our religious behavior
today?
Joseph ben Isaac B’khor Shor (the B’khor Shor) draws our attention to the
juxtaposition of this verse and what comes immediately before this powerful
declaration. He writes,
You inherited the land of Sihon and Og and therefore you must be careful
not to transgress the will of God. When you transgress God’s will, God will
be more strict with you than any other nation! And therefore, I [Moses] say
to you, if your evil inclination gnaws at you asking, “why do I need all of this
sorrow?,” then you will respond to your evil inclination that “the Lord alone is
God,” and one may not escape from God—it is in God’s hands who will die
and who will live.
The great miracle of the deliverance of the Israelites is emphasized, and in particular
how they have defeated great nations along their journey to Israel. Though one may
expect Moses to leverage these victories as a means of inflating the Israelite ego, he
seems to do just the opposite. The B’khor Shor tempers their triumphalism.
Victory over other nations does not give the Israelites carte blanche to oppress their
enemies and become prideful in their successes. Rather, they must never lose sight
of the ultimate source of their blessing, God. Within its original biblical context, then,
the verse recited in ‘aleinu thrice daily communicates a vital message of humility: the
healthy contraction of the ego. God is above and below—representing the beginning
as well as the end. Blessing and victory must become opportunities for holiness and
sanctifying God’s Name. Only by moving forward with a sense of humility can we truly
build ourselves once again from the rubble of Tish’ah Be’Av.
The publication and distribution of A Taste of Torah are made possible by a generous
grant from Sam and Marilee Susi.