D'var Torah

Be a part of this year's Torah Mining Project: select a Torah portion to study and then discuss with the congregation on Shabbat morning. Available portions/dates are listed here. Please contact Rabbi Joshua if you'd like to sign up so that you and he can discuss what's involved in preparing a davar Torah. We are eager to hear varied voices on Torah . Please join in this study and conversation.

Here is Joy Livingstons's December 15, 2007 D'var Torah for Vayigash:

I am here this morning as part of the Religious Committee's Torah Mining Project. This effort began with a question: how do we deal with the parts of Torah we find difficult to accept. Our conversations made clear this ancient historical document still plays an important role in our present day spiritual practice.

Recently, I heard that a myth is not just a story that happened; it is a story that is constantly happening. Indeed, Torah is not a historical document, it is alive, the story is happening right now, each week as we read. As my father pointed out to me when a child asking about whether Moses really parted the Red Sea, what we learn from the story is much more important than whether it is myth or fact. But we can only learn insofar as we engage with Torah, actively and critically reading, studying, and discussing. This is the Torah Mining Project, an active process of making current meaning of this ancient tradition.

To get the project started, members of the Religious Committee have taken a weekly parsha to study and discuss through the d'var Torah. This is my week. I selected this week merely by the calendar; I thought my work schedule would allow me time to spend studying the portion (oh, what a fantasy!). I love the exercise of selecting a week and then exploring the mine its parsha offers.

So by selecting this Shabbat, I found myself with Vayigash, the third installment in the story of Joseph. In today's episode, we return to last week's cliff hanger when Joseph had claimed Benjamin to be his slave after successfully framing him. This week, we begin with Judah drawing near to Joseph to plead Benjamin's case; Judah offers himself to save Benjamin and thus his father Jacob. Emotion overtakes Joseph; he reveals himself to his brothers telling them not to feel guilty, God, not they, is responsible for his being in Egypt. They hug, cry and eat together; all is reconciled. The brothers return home to tell Jacob that Joseph still lives and to bring the whole mishpucha back to Egypt. They settle in, get comfortable, and before you know it they are slaves unto a new Pharaoh. It is all part of God's plan, setting things up so that God can redeem the children of Israel and bring us out of slavery.

I begin my exploration of the parsha by reading as many commentaries as my search engine can find. I read from the conservative movement, the reform, the orthodox; I read Rabbi Joshua's d'var Torah of 20 years ago, still meaningful today. The diversity of commentaries is mind boggling: there are so many gems to mine in today's parsha. There is the amazing act of Judah bravely speaking truth to power. There is the intriguing process of Joseph emerging from his pit through forgiveness, of himself as well as his brothers; or, the reconciliation of brothers, representing the hope of unity among Jews as well as all humanity. And, really hard to resist, Joseph's coming out, revealing his true identity as a Jew, especially in this time of year when we are constantly dealing with whether or not to "pass."

But those are the low hanging fruit, I always find myself interested in the fruit higher up in the tree, a bit beyond my reach. And, so, as I read and think, I am struck by the part of the story that doesn't make sense to me. When Joseph reveals himself to his brothers saying: "I am Joseph your brother, whom you sold into Egypt. And now be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that you sold me hither, for God did send me before you to preserve life." This is the same God behind all sorts of family dysfunction throughout Genesis; the God that soon will bring all the children of Israel into Egypt, so that in a few hundred years this God can free them from slavery.

I'm definitely having trouble with this God that seems to have to set things up so that people do nasty things to one another so that then they can see the error of their ways, seek forgiveness, and thus be redeemed. So I decide this is the place in the mine I will explore. I read some more.

I find a frequently cited Midrash from the Chofetz Chaim, a 19th century Polish rabbi and scholar. According to the Chofetz Chaim nothing in this story of brothers makes sense until Joseph reveals himself, saying "Ani Yoseph," "I am Joseph." Then all is clear and reasonable: Joseph's behavior was not irrational; he was testing his brothers to determine if they had grown into loyal, loving men. Similarly, the Chofetz Chaim says we don't understand what God is doing to us, but at the end of days God will say, "Ani Hashem" and all will become crystal clear. We'll understand the divine plan.

In a similar vein, another Polish rabbi of the time, Rabbi Yitzhak Breiter said "When you accept everything as God's will, this causes the veil of concealment to be removed, thus manifesting God's control over all creation...Everything we experience is actually a communication from God. This includes our inner thoughts and feelings."

Now, on the face of it, the message is clear: of course I'm having trouble with the way God is setting things up, I don't understand the grand plan, which is, after all, for the benefit of me and all of humanity. But my problem is much deeper than the plan itself; I cannot understand God as a puppeteer in the sky manipulating everything so that it comes out right in the end. This notion of an all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, entity doesn't work for me.

To make sense of the rabbi's wisdom, certain that there is wisdom here, I look for a way to understand God.

I return to the parsha which begins with "Vayigash." Judah draws near or comes close to Joseph. I find references to Rashi's midrash suggesting Judah "draws near" in three ways: as in war; as in appeasement; and, as in prayer. I read several commentaries drawn from Rashi's midrash to examine the ways in which both Judah may have meant to approach Joseph and the ways in which Joseph may have seen the approach.

I decide Rashi offers me a way to come close to God. I begin to ponder each of the three types of approach, reading more, and discussing my ideas and feelings with Sandy and others.

First I look at my approach to God "as in war." I realize this is definitely where I begin: fighting with God, both Torah's portrayal of God's actions and of God as an entity. I cannot conceive of God as an omnipotent father with a plan. What kind of a loving parent's plan deliberately includes evil? And, by the way, why does the plan exclude women, or only give us a few supporting roles. Roz she tells me I am being too concrete. Indeed, coming near to God with my fists up is very concrete, and I've been here many times before. I want to find another approach.

So, I move on and wonder what is my approach to God "as in appeasement?" How can I understand God in peace, quiet and calm? I read yet another 19th century Polish rabbi's words, Rabbi Yitzhak Meir, "We have to realize that we do not always need to understand." And, suddenly, I take a deep breath and indeed feel soothed. In this not understanding I actually find understanding. I move from the concrete to the abstract. I come near God as the mystery of creation. I understand the concept of a divine plan as a way to make sense of the chaos of the universe, the fact that we really are not in control. The plan is simple: the trails we encounter provide opportunities to be our best selves, to seek out and achieve our greatest potential. I share this insight with Sandy and she reminds me that had I listened to my father's wisdom I would have come to this insight much sooner: it is not the concrete facts of the story that matter but what we learn.

Now with my mind at ease, I wonder how I draw near God "as in prayer?" I understand prayer as heart opening. I ponder this question for days; what does it mean to come close to God with an open heart? A conversation with my friend Patricia helps, as I know it will. Patricia tells me she experiences prayer as both giving and receiving, like the breath. I understand that to come close to God as in prayer, means letting go of concrete and abstract notions of God; this is not an intellectual exercise, but an experience of soul.

I am reminded of mindfulness, a practice to experience the present moment fully based on honestly facing reality. I think of Joseph honestly and fully revealing himself; Ani Joseph.
And, God's revelation: Ani Hashem, I am what I am. In Marcia Falk's rendition: Hear O Israel, the divine abounds everywhere and dwells in everything; the many are One. It becomes clear that experiencing the One must include beauty and pain, grace and evil. Patricia reminds me that prayer as a request for specific action, a cure from serious illness, for example, comes from that concrete place of understanding. Coming close to God, to the One, as in prayer, with open heart, we seek healing, wholeness, embracing the mystery of creation and our place as it unfolds.

"Recalling the generations, I wrap myself in the tallit. May my mind be clear, my spirit open, as I envelop myself in prayer." As I recite this prayer each Shabbat morning, I call upon the names of my grandparents, Musser, Pa and Bubby, wrapping their unconditional love and my connection to the One around my shoulders. I enter the sanctuary and join in prayers recited by generations before me and, God-willing, generations to come. And each week, I come close to God when I touch Torah, with my tallis and with my heart.

Join me; engage with this amazing gift we have inherited. Study a parsha and see where it can take you.

Shabbat Shalom.

Here is Michael Engel's November 24, 2007 D'var Torah for Vayishlach:

The main subject of today's parshah, Vayishlach, is the unfolding of the relationship of Jacob and Esau. As we know from well-known stories related in the Torah, many family relationships seem quite dysfunctional, especially between brothers: Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, and Joseph and his brothers.

I'm sure that most of us are familiar with such problems, either in our own immediate families, or with other relatives and friends. I personally am an only child, so I have not experienced such a situation directly. But my favorite uncle, my father's younger brother, did suffer such a difficult history when, after divorcing his first wife, he remarried some years later and found that his own grown children and his remaining sister did not accept his new wife, which led to a complete rupture in the respective relationships that lasted until my uncle's death.

Before I examine today's theme, it may be relevant to review the earlier tales of the connection between Jacob and Esau, as related in the parshah Toldot which we read two weeks ago. During Rebecca's pregnancy, God appeared to her and announced: "Two nations are in your womb, two separate peoples shall issue from your body; one people shall be mightier than the other, and the older shall serve the younger." (Gen. 25:23) The problem started immediately at birth, when Jacob "emerged holding on to the heel of Esau," demonstrating already Jacob's attempt to stop his twin from being the first-born. Later we notice that Isaac prefers Esau while Rebecca favors Jacob, an early instance of an unhealthy family dynamic. When the twins were older, Jacob had been cooking a stew which Esau craved, claiming he was famished. Jacob then offered to feed him provided, that Esau sells him his birthright in exchange. Jacob's behavior was a rather manipulative gesture which does not show him at his best.

Later in the same parshah, Isaac plans to bless Esau and asks him to go hunting and bring him some game, which he loves. As Esau leaves to procure the delicacy, Rebecca, who has overheard Isaac's request, shows her own manipulative powers by instructing Jacob to fetch some game which she will prepare in order that Isaac bless Jacob instead of Esau. The subterfuge used by Rebecca and Jacob succeeds because of Isaac's poor eyesight and hearing. The upshot is that Jacob receives the blessing which states, among other things, "Be master over your brothers and let your mother's son's bow to you." Esau returns with the game that he has prepared and finds to his dismay that Jacob has already received the blessing and that it is too late for him. As he weeps aloud and begs to be blessed also, he receives a consolation blessing which repeats some of the words Rebecca had previously heard from God, as quoted earlier, to the effect that although "you shall live by your sword, you shall serve your brother." (Gen. 27:40) The next verse, 41, is crucial: Now Esau harbored a grudge against Jacob because of the blessing which his father had given him, and Esau said to himself, "Let but the mourning period of my father come, and I will kill my brother Jacob." At this point Rebecca, who has somehow learned about Esau's plan, gets Jacob to flee to Haran, where her brother Laban lives. I won't go into the details of Jacob's twenty or so years of labor for his uncle, but now return to today's parshah which resumes the story of the twin brothers.

Jacob is understandably nervous about his impending meeting with Esau and makes some preparations. He divides his entourage into two camps, so that if Esau attacks one camp, the other may escape, and he chooses numerous gifts to propitiate his brother. But before the meeting, scheduled for the next day, the Torah suddenly inserts a passage where Jacob meets a man against whom he fights until the break of dawn. The fight is inconclusive and Jacob demands that the man bless him. The man now wants to know Jacob's name, and as he replies "Jacob," the man tells him, "Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed." Who was this mysterious man? The Midrash explains that he was Esau's guardian angel. So Jacob was able to fight this angel to a draw, neither defeating Esau a third time, as he had done twice years earlier, nor losing to him as he feared initially. This new sign of maturity on Jacob's part is the reason that he receives his new name Israel to replace the original name Jacob, which is usually associated with being a trickster and manipulator. At the same time, it gives him confidence for his approaching meeting with Esau.

The meeting finally takes place and the Torah tells us in verse 33:4 (page 203: "Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept." In the Torah scroll, the Hebrew word for he kissed him, vayishakehu, has dots over the six letters, and this has puzzled the Rabbis. It so happens that such dots are found in ten different places in the Torah, and normally they mean that the word under them signifies something unusual. In the present case, the Midrash tells us of Rabbi Shimon b. Eliezer and Rabbi Yannai who suggest that a word-play in Hebrew accounts for the dotted letters. Esau embraced Jacob not to kiss him (Hebrew nashko, the root of the verb vayishakehu) but to bite him (noshko). At that moment, Jacob's neck turned to marble, and the two brothers wept, Jacob on account of his neck and Esau on account of his teeth.

Although this Midrash is clever, I prefer to think that Esau actually was sincere in his embrace of Jacob and that he learned that his previous hatred of Jacob was not productive. And as proof of his change of heart, we observe that Esau, unlike Cain, does not in fact go through with his threat to kill his brother.

After their meeting, the brothers part with Jacob going to Canaan and Esau to Seir. The only time they will see each other again is when they bury their father Isaac, toward the end of today's parshah (Gen.35:29). And on this last occasion, we see that Esau again refrains from committing fratricide.

From Jacob's experience with Esau, it is obvious that reconciliation is attainable and that there is hope in the possibility of friendship between siblings and, ultimately, between peoples. We saw already that Isaac and Ishmael joined together to bury their father Abraham (Gen.25:9). And in the generation following Jacob, we note that Joseph finally is reconciled with his brothers in spite of their egregious behavior toward him.

It is conventionally said that the descendents of Isaac and Ishmael are the Jews/Israelis and the Arabs. Do we dare hope that there may eventually be reconciliation between modern Israelis and Palestinians, perhaps starting at next week's Annapolis conference?

I'm afraid that I am not very optimistic on this score and don't expect it to happen in my lifetime, but it is a dream which may be realized in the future. After all, Jacob and Esau have provided us with a model on which to build.

Here is Marv Greenberg’s November 3, 2007 D’var Torah for Chayai Sarah, the section of Torah which describes the deaths of Sarah and Abraham:

Shabbat Shalom. Our sedra, Chayei Sarah, which we read this morning, begins with our matriarch Sarah’s death. The first thing Avraham does after Sarah’s death is to ensure that there be a proper burial for her. To ensure a proper burial can take place, he pays a large sum for the Cave of Machpalah to serve as her final resting place. The commentary tells us that by paying the exorbitant fee of 400 shekels Avraham has shown tremendous respect for the dead.

Each of us in our own way and as a community has learned from Avraham’s actions. We have learned that we must all pay due respect to our dead. It begins with the traditional quick burial and continues through sitting shiva, the 30-day and the 11-month mourning periods. However, it does not stop there but continues throughout our lifetime. Two ways in which we can accomplish this is by observing the Yarzheit of our loved ones and participating in the Yizkor service.

You may have noticed that today I recited the haftorah and am now giving a d’var torah. No, this is not my second bar mitzvah. I do it in honor of today being my father’s yarzheit, the observance of the anniversary of his death. The Book of Why tells us that “death anniversaries are observed as a sign of reverence for the deceased.”

In the years since my Dad’s passing this day has become a special day for me. Rabbi Lamb in the book “The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning” tells us that “tradition regards the day as a commemorative of both the enormous tragedy of death and the abiding glory of the parental heritage.” It is traditional for us to observe this day in three locations: the home, the synagogue and the cemetery.

First, in the home it should be a somber day. Personally I take the day off from work to reflect and honor my father in death, as I tried to do in life. Some authorities feel one should fast, while others feel it is permissible to eat, but avoid having a festive meal.

It is traditional to light a yarzheit candle from sundown the night before which will then burn until the conclusion of the following day. It is customary to allow the light to extinguish itself, rather than putting it out after the day of yarzheit. The flame and wick symbolize the soul and body.
Another custom is to make a donation to a charity on behalf of the deceased. It is also customary to study Mishna or Torah.

I find that in doing these home observances I am brought closer to my father’s values. This is especially true in remembering his constant desire to study more Torah and share his good fortune with others less fortunate than himself through the giving of tzedakah.

Second is the synagogue observance of yarzheit. The actions one takes in shul varies from community to community. If possible, one may lead part or all of the service. Some of us also chant the haftorah on the Shabbat before the yarzheit or, like today for me, on the Shabbat of the yarzheit. If one is unable to do these things he or she should at least receive an aliyah. Rabbi Lamb describes this as a “required” honor. Naturally, the Mourner’s Kaddish should be said. Hence the constant need for a minyan so this special prayer can be recited.

It is the minhag, or custom, for some to bring refreshment so all can toast a l’chaim, “to life”, and remember the special person we have lost. Yes, I also definitely observe this custom.

The last location of observance is at the cemetery. An annual visit to the gravesite is a traditional custom. Some authorities recommend reciting T’hillim psalms, and studying Mishna at the grave. Unfortunately, my father is buried in Phoenix and I am unable to honor this custom. However, when I visit Phoenix, I make a pilgrimage to my Dad’s grave and find some solace in just being there. It is more meaningful for me to reflect on who my Dad was and what he meant to so many of us, rather than on the traditional recitation of psalms.

My father’s yarzheit, this day of personal mourning, allows me the time to contemplate his qualities and his choice of lifestyle. I feel that this day allows me to honor him in death, as in life, through lamad (study), tzedakah ( charity) and tephillah (prayer).

We also remember and honor our dead is through the Yizkor service. According to Rabbi Lamb, the Yizkor memorial service was instituted “so that the Jew can pay homage to his forbears and recall the good life and traditional goals.” It is an act of solemn piety and expression of profound respect. According to other authorities, the purpose of the Yizkor service is to evoke the spirit of the deceased so that it might intercede before G-d for the living. To others it is a way to pay respect to the dead as an individual within a community.

The Yizkor service is recited four times per year. It is said on Yom Kippur, and our three major chagiim (holidays) of Sukkot, Pesach, and Shavuot. It is customary to light a yarzheit candle on the days that Yizkor is recited as is done on the day of yarzheit.

To this day I can vividly recall the deep emotions I felt during my first Yizkor service for my father. It was a very moving moment knowing that he was no longer present in his physical form. By participating in the Yizkor service, saying Kaddish and giving tzedakah I could help redeem his soul.

While growing up I recall that on major holidays a large group of middle aged and elderly Jews would appear at our shul about ten to fifteen minutes before the Yizkor service and leave shortly thereafter. We jokingly referred to them as “the Yizkor crowd.” Yes, even our shul has a small Yizkor crowd that we regularly see on those days of Yizkor observance. It’s interesting how my perspective has changed so much since my younger days. Now instead of joking about “the Yizkor crowd,” I admire them for remembering to gather with the Jewish community, help form a minyan, and honor our dead.

On this solemn day of my Father’s Yarzheit we read: “And afterwards Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah facing Mamre, which is in Chevron, in the land of Canaan.” We can learn from Avraham Avenu, Abraham our Father, about the importance of honoring our deceased relatives and friends. I pray and hope that as a community we will not forget the Yarzheit, the memorial service, and the Yizkor, the service recalling the dead. It is truly my wish that our congregation will continue these traditions and will continue to honor those who have passed before us. Shabbat Shalom

Here is Lee Lichtenstein's October 6, 2007 D'var Torah for Bereshit:

Bereshit … Creation. A whole lot of great stuff if we are to mine, which by the way, seems to be the verb I most associate with this Religious Committee project of delving into Torah. This is the first installment of what we hope will be many. So much of this parsha is of such great interest. It all pulls at reaches of inquiry.

Heaven and Earth. All of God's creatures, all are of dust which drew in soul and breath of life. Six days and then Shabbat. The Creation of Man and Woman, Together and then Separate but still to Cleave Together or is it instead one from the Rib of the other in a more Linear, Patriarchal fashion. Kenegdo, "help meet" in a more traditional text. Robert Alter goes with lifesaver. Rashi sums it up with "If he is worthy she will be a partner, if he is not worthy, she will oppose him.

And then Man to have dominion over all other creatures. Though again with the Rashi: add a single dot, change the one vowel and it is no longer that He dominates but instead He descends below all other beasts. The Apple and the Serpent, Fratricide, Seth and a whole line of geezers all the way to Methuselah. But for Noah, the world going to pot and then we are closed, at least until Mincha. What a parsha!

I look at Bereshit and for me, even more than that mild though constant cranial echo of that wisp of a tune, "… farmer and cowmen should be friends," most sincere apologies to Rogers and Hammerstein, it comes down to Time. For me, this parsha is about time. After all, Time, in a way, is a very Jewish kind of thing. That is, a very twisted kind of Jewish way. Six days versus 4.5 billion years not to even mention Steven J Gould and several generations of Darwin's. Definitely, kind of most very warped. However, Time is important. Consider Shabbat, not a sacred place, not a sacred space, but according to A. J. Heschel, a sacred time. Time is really quite important.

In the first chapter of the first volume of our most sacred text we have the development of chloroplasts, Salamanders, Hummingbirds, Brain Eating Amoebas, the Krebs cycle and motor Neurons. All in only six glorious days, but then we also have a good half dozen 800 year old folks doing a lot of begotting well into middle age. So I am very confused. I am having trouble with Time. No wonder I am almost always late. Time is a very difficult concept for me and my grasp of it barely even begins to approach the standard for my grade level. Maybe this is why I will probably never graduate eighth grade. And, of course, remember if you will, that I have only just returned from the land of NECAPS. Again sorry, I am speaking with acronyms of educationalese origin.

I am beginning to truly think that this illiteracy, problem, difficulty or even disability with Time is a cultural thing. My mother was late. Where is that station wagon? I remember waiting across the road from my high school, like two or more hours, probably more and every day. I was irritated but looking back my Mom did have a lot to do. Now I, in most instances am not quite keeping up with all those things I have to do and of course the flow through which I navigate all this stuff to do, Time!

I'm not late for work and I am not late for Shul. I can't functionally cope without being substantially early for each, but that's about it. Anyways, really believe it or not, and hey, I have been hanging around this building and a few others of its ilk to know, it is pretty unbelievable, but being early for shul is an actual virtue, even a mitzvah. Honestly look over page 89 in Kadesh Yameinu, our siddur. "These are the deeds which yield fruit … going early to the house of study morning and evening; …" This is not just some new fangled Reconstructionist idea either. It's even in Silverman, page 44.

Well I guess I am also never late for films though if I am I just don't go so I'm not sure if this even counts. But for everything else I am very much late. Who cares if I get there on time? What is on time? So the reservation is for six or the ferry sails at 4:30, I just don't want to come home to a sink full of dirty dishes or worse, a full compost bucket. In my house the kids don't even begin to think about their slow shuffle to their shoes until the clothes drier door slaps shut.

But it's not just me. Look at THE BOOK, first chapter first reading, Bereshit. We Jews are a differently abled people when it comes to time. We are time confused and maybe even time impaired. How many folks made it here on time today? On time? We don't even have agreement amongst ourselves as to what "on time" is. You know the story of the dessert island with the one hundred marooned Jews who built the 101 synagogues? Well they also had 202 opinions as to the meaning of "on time." 9 AM? Page 90? Any time before the Amidah or the Shemah or maybe the Torah Service. Mourner's Kaddish? Thirty seconds before the line at the buffet forms. Twenty minutes before Services so as to get "situated." Before your niece or cousin, the B'nai Mitzvot starts to chant? On time for Musaf? Or is it really just on time to get a piece of kuggle and a ride down the hill some cold winter mid day.

And finally, as they say at IMUN, the USCJ study program I attended this past summer, ten minutes for your D'var Torah, no more, consider it well done only if it is less. Shabbat shalom.