Monthly Archives: June 2010

Announcing the Trop of Eikhah and Ester Through BandCamp

I know that it can be difficult to find the time to get tapes or CDs made in order to learn to chant the trop of the different books we read in shul throughout the year, and it can also be difficult to find people in different communities who can tutor others in learning the trop of the different books we read throughout the year.

In light of this, I am hoping eventually to provide free online resources for learning Askhenazic trop for throughout the year. For the meantime, you can now learn to chant Eikhah and Ester online for free.

I have now made available some free mp3 audio recordings and sheet music to assist anyone who would like to learn to chant Eikhah (the Book of Lamentations), which we’ll be reading on Tish’ah Be’av (this year: July 19-20). To download them all for free now, do the following:

1. Go to http://jonahrankliturgy.bandcamp.com/album/chanting-eikhah-version-10-10
2. Beneath where it says “Digital album” in big black letters, click on “Buy album” in big blue letters.
3. You will be asked to enter a price and credit card information. If you don’t want to pay anything, so type in “0.”
4. Click the Green button where it says “Download.”
5. You have absolutely everything now… for free!

In addition I have posted mp3 audio recordings, sheet music, and some additional pages of text to assist anyone who would like to learn to chant Megillat Ester for Purim (a little further down the road). To download them all for free now, do the following:

1. Go to http://jonahrankliturgy.bandcamp.com/album/chanting-ester-version-10-10
2. Beneath where it says “Digital album” in big black letters, click on “Buy album” in big blue letters.
3. You will be asked to enter a price and credit card information. If you don’t want to pay anything, there’s no reason you should! Type in “0.”
4. Click the Green button where it says “Download.”
5. You have absolutely everything now… for free!

Because I know that it can be difficult to come by or to create these resources, I would like to make two requests to all readers:

1) If you see or hear anything that you would like corrected, clarified, or in some way modified from any of the above resources, please do not hesitate to write to me regarding any such thoughts. I can be reached very easily at jonah dot rank at g mail dot com . (You might notice that both of these resources are labeled “Version 1.0.” I realize that there may be errors or things that are unclear, and I hope to correct and to clarify all of these items.)

2) If you know of people who want free resources for learning or teaching either Eikhah or Ester, please do direct them to these resources I am providing–not for my sake, but for their sake. I have created these resources because I hope that they will be useful for people other than myself.


A poem on God in the back of a synagogue; from this afternoon, inspired via Ilana D. Cohen

Listening for the sacred,
Waiting for the sound,
I hide My face—radiant yet concealed.

Sometimes I peep out.
The smell of the sweat of sages long gone still lingers;
They were not saints, but they are My zealots.
What can I say?
Sometimes a Parent talks to some children more often than others.

A fly buzzes—music incoherent.
A traveler passes as a driven leaf,
And I still wait for My next caller.

But My phone usually works differently from the phones of humanity.
They listen to music when waiting for their call,
But I hear music when the call comes through.

Some say that when they’re in My sanctuaries, they don’t hear Me speak,
But, when they’re not here, I’ve really been trying to get through to them all day.


A poem regarding the relationship between a Jew and an iPod; from this morning, inspired by Josh Mocle via Andrés Wilson

iPod
iCulture
iNeed
iDentity
iNseperable
iKnow It’s Not The Right Way To Pronounce Inseparable But
iJust Can’t Help It.
iWas Lost But Now
i’m Found
iFound My
iPod
iAsk Where Am I Without My
iPod
iF
iAm Not For Myself, Who Will Be?
iFOnly
iAm For Myself, What Am
i?Who Am
i?Who am?


An Evolution of Jewish Song: Shabbat Shirah 2009, February 6

Had it not been for one particularly long excerpt that I should have shortened significantly, I would have been slightly happier with this Devar Torah, but I think it’s an okay one. Posted below, unformatted! Thanks by the way go out to Joseph Schwartz for encouraging me to deliver this Davar!


Shabbat shalom,
On Friday morning, January 23, 2009, David Weltman and I left minyan at the Jewish Theological Seminary to return to the dormitory as per usual; however, along the way, we stopped at the Appletree Supermarket to purchase assorted goods. Though I truly enjoy Appletree Supermarket and though I have no reason to believe that David dislikes Appletree, our morning shopping was unexpectedly disturbed as our ears took sudden notice of Cyndi Lauper’s international #1 hit song “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” playing over the radio of Appletree. Although the Zi- onist fervor in my heart should have reassured me that it was o- kay—because this song actually charted higher in Israel than in the United States—and although the song contains such inspir- ing lyrics as “Girls just want to have fun” and “Girls just want to have fun,” David and I looked at each other and agreed, “It’s too early in the morning for this song.”
Looking back on that unfortunate event in our lives, I won- der dispassionately if it really was too early in the morning for that song. After all, David and I had already been up for about an hour—a good chunk of that time being in morning minyan actually (where there certainly was singing). But why do we sing in minyan? After all, we’re often pretty tired at the morning minyan. In fact, I’m personally pretty tired at the evening min- yan too. I’m actually really tired right now.1 So, why do I sing at all? I’m not sure that being a musician qualifies me as the best person to answer this question, but the fact that it is Shabbat Shi- rah, the Sabbath of Song, and that I’m giving a Devar Torah right now means that either I’m going to answer the question now or I’m going to move on to another topic.
I’m going to try and answer the question.
But, I want to backtrack and go over some fundamentals. Shabbat Shirah, which is often celebrated with something more musically elaborate than usual in services, is called Shabbat Shi- rah because it is the Shabbat when we include the reading of Shirat Hayyam, the song of the Sea: which Mosheh (Moses) and the Children of Israel sang during Keri`at Yam Suf, when God split the Sea of Reeds so that the nation could miraculously es- cape Egyptian servitude, even by means of traversing a natural geographic border. Shirat Hayyam, the song that Israel sang when crossing the sea, is not only referred to in Exodus Chapter 15, Verse 1 directly as a Shirah (a song or poem) but it is also the first time that the Torah ever speaks directly of any sort of Shirah or even uses a word with a Hebrew root related to Shirah (song, or poetry). Yet it is not the first time that music or poetic language appears in the Torah. In Genesis Chapter 4, Verse 21, we read:
יוּבָ֑ל ה֣וּא הָיָ֔ה אֲבִ֕י כׇּל־תֹּפֵ֥שׂ כִּנּ֖וֹר וְעוּגָֽב:
Yuval was the father of all those who play the kinnor [the lyre2] and the ugav [an ancient wind instrument3].
So, Yuval, the first musician was the father of all musicians: kind of like how Ray Charles was the “father of soul music.” And, speaking of fathers, our forefather Ya’akov (Jacob)—a.k.a. Yisra’el (Israel)—offered a substantial poetic blessing of some length to his offspring in Genesis Chapter 49. And, loosely speaking of course, there’s plenty of poetic and literary language interspersed in the narratives of Genesis and Exodus preceding Shirat Hayyam. But the word “Shirah” is not used until now, and Judaism’s earliest rabbis saw Shirat Hayyam as a different kind of song altogether, as if Shirat Hayyam marches to its own drum, so to speak. Shemot Rabbah, a Midrash-based exegetical and tangential commentary on Shemot (Exodus)—compiled a- round the ninth century—is so impressed by Shirat Hayyam that, in Chapter 23, Passage 4, it actually envisions God waiting for the song with:
דבר אחר אז ישיר משה, הדא דכתיב:
Another interpretation on “Then Mosheh will sing” in Exodus Chapter 15, Verse 1, keeping in mind what is written in Pro- verbs 31:26,
פִּ֭יהָ פָּֽתְחָ֣ה בְחׇכְמָ֑ה וְתֽוֹרַת־חֶ֝֗סֶד עַל־לְשׁוֹנָֽהּ:
“Her mouth opened with wisdom, and a Torah or lovingkind- ness was in her language.”
מיּוֹם שברא הקדוש ברוך הוא את העולם ועד שעמדו ישראל על הים,
From the day that the Holy Blessed One made the world, until the day Yisra’el stood by the sea,
לא מצינו אדם שאמר שירה לקדוש ברוך הוא
We hadn’t seen a single form of humanity sing a song to the Ho- ly Blessed One
אלא ישראל.
Except for Yisra’el.
ברא אדם הראשון ולא אמר שירה,
God made the first human, but he didn’t sing a song.
הציל אברהם מכִּבְשַׁן הָאשׁ וּמן הַמְּלָכִים וְלא אמר שירה
God saved Avraham from the fire4 and from the kings, but he didn’t sing a song.
וכן יצחק מן המאכלת ולא אמר שירה
So too, God saved Yitzhak (Isaac) from the sacrificial knife, but Yitzhak didn’t sing a song.
וכן יעקב מן המלאך ומן עשו ומן אנשי שכם ולא אמר שירה,
Similarly, God saved Ya’akov from the wrestling angel, and from Esav (Esau), and from Shekhem’s people, but he didn’t sing a song!
כיון שבאו ישראל לַיָּם ונִקרע להם
But when Yisra’el came to the sea, and it was split for them,
מיּד אמרו שירה לפני הקדוש ברוך הוא
Immediately they sang a song for the Holy Blessed One(!)
שנאמר ”אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩ וּבְנֵ֨י יִשְׂרָאֵ֜ל,“
As it says, “Then, Mosheh will sing and the Children of Yisra- ’el.”
והוי פִּ֭יהָ פָּֽתְחָ֣ה בְחׇכְמָ֑ה.
Thereby, Yisra’el’s mouth had opened with wisdom.
The Rabbis tell us that there is a certain wisdom inherent in song. Song, by its very nature, takes time and sound, and turns them into a sacred aesthetic experience. And like all sacred mat- ters in Judaism, the sanctity of song can be removed from its na- tural state. A sacred matter should take place through its ideal means, for its ideal purpose and at its ideal time. I have no doubt that Yuval, the first musician, understood the beauty of music. But it seems that he took something with so much sacred poten- tial and never figured out that it could ever be used for a holy purpose. Personally, I don’t blame him. I don’t know what his relationship with the Divine was like, and, if he lived over 4000 years ago, chances are that whatever language skills he had were pretty limited anyway. Also, if Yuval was the first musician, then there probably wasn’t much fine culture surrounding him. He probably had no major theologians or philosophers to talk to, so I think Yuval must have been intellectually on his own. His inability to bring his own music to a sacred purpose was not intentional; it was accidental. And it was only by the means of an intellectual evolution and an artistic revolution that would take place over time that would eventually allow the Israelites to be the first mortal entity to sing a song for God.
But, when the Israelites sang for God, they sang for yet an- other high and holy purpose: to unify the Israelites as a commu- nity. Or Hahayyim, written in 1742 by the Moroccan Kabbalist Hayyim ben Mosheh ibn Attar says, regarding Exodus Chapter 15, Verse 1’s words “וַיֹּֽאמְר֖וּ לֵאמֹ֑ר אָשִׁ֤ירָה” (“They said, ‘I will sing…’”):
פרוש: אמרו זה לזה לֵאמֹ֑ר
Here’s an explanation: they said to one another
שיאמרו שירה יחד בלא בחינת השתנוּת והפרדה עד שיהיו כאיש אחד.
That they’ll sing a song together with discerning and differences or separation among them, so that will be like one person.
הגם היותם רבים,
Indeed, they were really many persons,
ונתכוְּנוּ יחד ועשׂוּ כן ואמרו ”אָשִׁ֤ירָה“ (לשון יחיד) כאלּוּ הם איש אחד
But they planned together and performed accordingly and said, “I will sing,” a singular phrasing, as if they were one person.
שזולת זה היו אומרים נשירה
If they hadn’t done so, then they would have sung, “We will sing…”
Holy music can praise God and bring people together, but our Israelite ancestors were very lucky to have a compassionate God to pray to. God actually cared so much for us that God actually told the angels that God would prefer to hear the music of the Israelites rather than the music of the angels. We read in Shemot Rabbah, Chapter 23, Passage 7:5
דבר אחר: אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩, הדא הוא דכתיב
Another thought about these words: “Then, Moses will sing.” It’s written in Psalm 68, Verse 26:
קִדְּמ֣וּ שָׁ֭רִים אַחַ֣ר נֹגְנִ֑ים בְּ֖ת֥וֹךְ עֲלָמ֣וֹת תּוֹפֵפֽוֹת:
The singers precede; then come instrumentalists; amidst them are drumming maidens.
אמר ר‘ יוחנן
Rabbi Yohanan said:
בִּקְּשׁוּ המלאכים לומר שירה לפני הקדוש ברוך הוא באותו הלילה שעברו ישראל את הים
The angels requested to sing a song to the Holy Blessed One the same night that Yisra’el traversed the Sea.
ולא הניחן הקדוש ברוך הוא
The Holy Blessed One did not let them though.
אמר להם,
God said to them,
”לִגְיוֹנוֹתַי מְתוּנִין בְּצָרָה, וְאַתֶּם אומרים לְפָנַי שירה?“
“My legions are tarrying in danger, and you want to sing me a song?”
וכיון שֶׁיָּצְאוּ ישראל מן היּם
So when Israel escaped from the Sea,
באו המלאכים להקדים שירה לפני הקדוש ברוך הוא
The angels came first to sing a song to the Holy Blessed One.
אמר להם הקדוש ברוך הוא יקַדְּמוּ בנַי תְחִלָּה
The Holy Blessed One said to them, “My children are going first.”
הדא הוא דכתיב
Just as it says in Exodus 15:1,
”אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩“
“Then, Mosheh will sing!”
”אָ֣ז שׁר“ לא נאמר, אלא ”אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר“
It doesn’t say “Then Mosheh sang…” It says “Then Mosheh will sing!”
שהקדוש ברוך הוא אמר ”יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩ וּבְנֵ֨י יִשְׂרָאֵ֜ל תְחִלָּה.“
For the Holy Blessed One said, “Mosheh and the Israelites will sing first.”
וכן דוד הוא אומר ”קִדְּמ֣וּ שָׁ֭רִים”
Likewise, David (David)6 in the Psalm, says “the ‘singers’ pro- ceed first.”
אֵלּוּ ישראל שעמדו על הים
These “singers” are Yisra’el, who stood upon the sea,
דכתיב ”אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩.“
For it says, “Then Mosheh will sing.”
”אַחַ֣ר נֹגְנִ֑ים.“ אֵֽלּוּ המלאכים.
“After that, the instrumentalists!” These are the angels.
ולמה
And why this order?
כך אמר הקדוש ברוך הוא למלאכים,
This is what the Holy Blessed One said to the Angels:
לא מפני שאני משפיל אתכם אני אומר שיקדמו תחלה
It’s not so I can humiliate you that I am saying that they’ll go first,
אלא מפני שבשר וָדָם יאמרו תחלה עד שלא ימות אחד מהם
Rather, it’s that I’m letting the human flesh speak first since they might die.
אבל אתם כל זמן שאתם חיים וקימים
But you angels: you’re always lively and around.
משָׁל לְמלך שֶׁנִּשְׁבָּה בנוֹ והלך וְהִצִּילוֹ
It’s like a king whose son gets kidnapped, so he goes and saves him.
וְהָלְכוּ בני הפלטין מבקשִׁין לְקַלֵּס לַמֶּֽלֶךְ, ובנו מבקש לְקַלְּסוֹ.
So, all the persons of his palace ask to praise the king, but the son also requests to praise him!
אמרו לו, ”אדונינו, מי יְקַלֶּסְךָ תְחִלָּה?“
They say to him, “Our master, who gets to praise you first?”
אמר להם, ”בְּנִי. מִכַּאן וְאילך מי שרוצה לקלסני יקלסני.“
The king says to them, “My son. Him first, then whoever wants to praise me gets to praise me.”
כך
Likewise,
כשיצאו ישראל ממצרים וקרע להם הקדוש ברוך הוא את הים והיו המלאכים מבקשים לומר שירה,
When Yisra’el escaped from Egypt and the Holy Blessed One split the sea, and the angels requested to sing a song,
אמר להם הקדוש ברוך הוא, ”אָ֣ז יָֽשִׁיר־מֹשֶׁה֩ וּבְנֵ֨י יִשְׂרָאֵ֜ל תְּחִלָּה,
The Holy Blessed One said, “Then, Mosheh and the Children of Yisra’el will sing first.
ואחר כך אתם!“
And afterwards, you angels, get to sing!”
הוי ”קִדְּמ֣וּ שָׁ֭רִים“ אלו ישראל
The preceding singers: these are Yisra’el.
”אַחַ֣ר נֹגְנִ֑ים“ אלּוּ המּלאכים
Then, the instrumentalists: these are the angels.
”בְּ֖ת֥וֹךְ עֲלָמ֣וֹת תּוֹפֵפֽוֹת,“
Amidst them are drumming maidens,
אלו הנּשים שֶׁהן קִלְּסוּ באמצא כדכתיב
And these are the women who praised God in the center as is written in Exodus Chapter 15, Verse 20:
וַתִּקַּח֩ מִרְיָ֨ם הַנְּבִיאָ֜ה אֲח֧וֹת אַֽהֲרֹ֛ן אֶת־הַתֹּ֖ף בְּיָדָ֑הּ וַתֵּצֶ֤אןָ כׇל־הַנָּשִׁים֙ אַֽחֲרֶ֔יהָ בְּתֻפִּ֖ים וּבִמְחֹלֹֽת:
Miryam (Miriam) the prophetess, the sister of Aharon (Aaron), took the tambourine in her hand, and she went out with all the women behind her with tambourines and dances.
So, why do we sing when we pray? For starters, we pray with words as we recognize that God has the opportunity to list- en to the angels forever, but our time is limited and we should make the most of God’s time with us. The words we say when we pray should be sung though because, though we may know how to speak to God, we also must know how to show God how we have evolved culturally: that we are not Yuval, and we under- stand how to create something holy out of a historically refined art. And the reason that we sing together is to keep us together. The arts which we create as a Jewish community show God that we observe Hiddur Mitzvah: the beautification of a Divine com- mand. We show God that, not only do we know that God created us, but we, in God’s image, create something beautiful for God in return.
Shabbat shalom.


Departing, A Rebirth In the Imparting: Parashat Hayyey Sarah November 21 2008

This Devar Torah is one of which I am proud and which can be read easily in this link, or, less comfortably and unformatted below:


Shabbat shalom,
This past Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Murray Steinberg, age 41, came to schul as he normally would on a Friday evening. But people noticed that there was something different about him that night. It wasn’t a haircut, and it wasn’t a new suit he was wearing. But it was that he brought his dog with him. The Rabbi was confused; he had been expecting Murray to lead Kabbalat Shabbat as he normally would, before the Cantor would take over for Ma’ariv.
So, the Rabbi went over to Murray and said calmly, “Murray, it’s good to see you. But are you going to be able to lead Kabbalat Shabbat tonight if you have to hold your dog?”
Murray laughed at the Rabbi and said, “Of course not! I’m not going to lead Kabbalat Shabbat. Lucky here is going to lead!”
The Rabbi looked at the golden retriever tied to Murray’s leash and was astonished! “Your dog can sing?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Murray. The Rabbi looked at Murray, shrugged, and announced to the congregation that Lucky Steinberg would be leading Kabbalat Shabbat that evening beginning on page 252.
In the end, to the Rabbi’s great surprise, this was the most beautiful Kabbalat Shabbat service he had ever heard. The dog sang some of the congregation’s favorite melodies and even introduced a few new tunes and still had everybody singing along! At the end of Kabbalat Shabbat, the Rabbi turned to Murray and said, “This is unbelievable! This dog of yours—Lucky—he can really sing!” Murray smiled and thanked the Rabbi for the kind words. The Rabbi looked at Lucky again, who looked very comfortable there on the bimah with his tallit and kippah wrapped around his floppy ears. The Rabbi then asked Murray, “Has he thought of becoming a Cantor?”
Murray laughed again and said, “Rabbi, I can’t talk to the dog about that; you have to talk to the dog! Next year, he’s joining the Peace Corps!”
In this week’s Parashah of Hayyey Sarah, we encounter some other animals who, our rabbinic tradition imagines, were also socially conscious. Of course, that’s just a small segment of what happens in this Torah reading. The reading begins with tragedy: the death of Sarah, age 127, so I am willing to bet they saw it coming. But the news still requires her husband Avraham to find her a proper burial, and he succeeds. But, now we are left with Avraham and Yitzhak,11 two males sitting around at home and probably not up to much since there was no such thing yet as television. Freudian psychology would tell us that not only would Avraham have been lonely without a wife now, but Yitzhak would be lonely too without the love of his mother. So, Avraham comes up with a plan. He tells a servant of his to go find a wife for Yitzhak. But this particular servant’s name is not mentioned, and what is this guy’s qualifications anyway? Bereshit Rabbah, a midrashic, tangential commentary on Genesis (from around 425 CE) tells us in Chapter 59, Passage 8, regarding these words from Genesis 24:2:
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אַבְרָהָ֗ם אֶל־עַבְדּוֹ֙ זְקַ֣ן בֵּית֔וֹ
Avraham said to the senior servant of his household.
שֶׁהיה זִיו אִיקוֹנִין שֶׁלּוֹ כְּלוּם!
This servant’s appearance was like Avraham’s altogether,
הַמֹּשֵׁ֖ל בְּכׇל־אֲשֶׁר־ל֑וֹ
And he controlled all that was his,
שֶׁהיה שַׁלִּיט בְּיִצְרוֹ כְּמוֹתוֹ.
For he could conquer an evil conquer an evil inclination, just as Avraham could.
In short, this guy was good people. He not only resembled Avraham visually, he even acted and thought like Avraham! What better person could there be to do Avraham’s dirty work than Avraham’s own Mini-Me? And Avraham wasn’t just anybody; he was a righteous person! This servant’s righteousness made him not only a servant to a family of righteous people, but it was his righteousness that made him such an obvious delegate to this family; in a very literal sense, his righteousness was familiar, and part of the essence of Avraham’s family.
So, just how much did this servant really act like Avra- ham? We don’t know much, but for starters, he chose a righteous delegation to represent himself on this mission to find Yitzhak a wife! And who was this delegation? Genesis 24:10 tells us it was ten camels! Now, ten camels is a lot of camels for just one guy! This verse doesn’t mention any humans traveling with the servant; however, we do hear, very passively of some men in Verses 54 and 59 who were traveling with him. But, these men receive only two mentions, whereas these righteous camels receive mention in Verses 10, 11, 14, 19, 20, 22, 31, 32, 35, 44, 46, and 64: 12 mentions! Whatever those men accomplished, these ten camels still outdid them! But what did these camels do? Bereshit Rabbah Chapter 59, Passage 11 says:
וַיִּקַּ֣ח הָ֠עֶ֠בֶד עֲשָׂרָ֨ה גְמַלִּ֜ים מִגְּמַלֵּ֤י אֲדֹנָיו֙ וְגוֹ‘
The servant took ten camels from among the camels of his master.
גמליו של אברהם אבינו היה ניכרים בכל מקום שהיו יוֹצְאים!
The camels Avraham our forefather owned were known and familiar everywhere they went!
יוצאים זמומים.
And, wherever they went, they were always muzzled.
The 11th/12th century commentator Rashi explains this a bit:
הָיוּ יוֹצְאִים זְמוּמִין מִפְּנֵי הַגָּזֵל
They would go out muzzled so as not to engage in theft;
שֶׁלֹּא יִרְעוּ בִּשְׂדוֹת אחֵרים.
This way, they wouldn’t graze in anybody else’s fields!
These camels, as the Rabbis say, and as we can tell from these verses, were well-known! They were familiar, and they resembled Avraham because they were equipped with tools of righteousness: in this case, muzzles—so that they could conquer their inconvenient inclination to graze in every field they passed.
So, this servant, in the end, fulfills his task, and he finds a wife for Yitzhak. Her name is Rivkah. And things that used to be present in Yitzhak’s life, the warmth of family and the sense of being part of relationships larger than one’s self, are all present again. Bereshit Rabbah Chapter 60, Passage 16 responds at length to these words from Genesis 24:67:
וַיְבִאֶ֣הָ יִצְחָ֗ק הָאֹ֨הֱלָה֙ שָׂרָ֣ה אִמּ֔וֹ
He brought her to Yitzhak, towards the tent of Sarah, his mother.
כׇּל־יָמִים שֶׁהָיְתָה שָׂרָה קַיֶֽימֶת,
All the days when Sarah was alive,
הָיָה ענן קשׁוּר עַל פֶּֽתַח אהלָהּ.
There was a cloud joining the opening of her tent.
כֵּיון שמתה, פָּסַק אוֹתוֹ ענן,
When she died, that cloud ceased.
וכיון שֶׁבּאת רבקה, חזר אותו ענן.
But, when Rivkah came along, the cloud returned!
כל ימים שהיתה שרה קיימת, היו דלתוֹת פְּתוּחוֹת לרוחה,
All the days when Sarah was alive, the doors were open at great width.
וְכֵיוַן שֶׁמֵּתָה שָׂרָה, פָּסְקָה אוֹתָהּ הָרְוָחָה,
And, when Sarah died, that width ceased.
וְכֵיוַן שֶׁבּאת רבקה, חזרה אוֹתָהּ הָרְוָחָה.
But, when Rivkah came, it came back!
וכל ימים שהיתה שרה קיימת, הָיָה בְרָכָה מְשׁוּלחת בָּעִיסָּה,
And all the days that Sarah was alive, a blessing was sent upon the dough she used.
וכיון שמתה שרה, פסקה אותה הברכה.
But, when Sarah died, that blessing ceased.
כיון שבאת רבקה חזרה!
When Rivkah came, it came back!
כל ימים שהיתה שרה קיימת, היה נר דולק מִלֵּילֵי שַׁבָּת וְעַד לֵילֵי שַׁבָּת.
All the days that Sarah was alive, there was a candle lit from each evening of Shabbat to each consecutive evening of Shab- bat.
וכיון שמתה פסק אותו הַנֵּר,
But, when she died, that light ceased.
וכיון שבאת רבקה חזר.
But, when Rivkah came, it returned!
וכיון שראה אותה שהיא עושה כמעשה אמו,
And, when he he saw that she was making everything happen as his mother did it,
עיסְּתָהּ בְּטׇהֳרה וְקִוְצָהּ בְּטׇהֳרָה מִיָּד…
The dough she used became pure, and the twists in the hallah14 she made became pure immediately…
וַיְבִאֶ֣הָ יִצְחָ֗ק הָאֹ֨הֱלָה֙ שָׂרָ֣ה אִמּ֔וֹ.
Thus, Yitzhak brought her towards the tent of Sarah, his mother.
Things are looking up again in Yitzhak’s life. Everything that was right before was wrong when Sarah died, and now it was alright again. As JTS15 rabbinical student Juan Mejia16 noted to me about these words, we may recall from last week that it was in Sarah’s tent that the news of Yitzhak’s birth came to her. Yitzhak’s life began in Sarah’s tent, and, as this servant brings Rivkah to Yitzhak, whether it be the camels, Avraham’s identical servant or even Rivkah herself), these a- gents of familiarity are bringing about a new life that is sud- denly beginning for him. It is almost as if Yitzhak will live more than one life, just as our Parashah begins (in Chapter 23: Verse 1) by speaking of the end of “שְׁנֵ֖י חַיֵּ֥י שָׂרָֽה” (“sheney hayyey Sarah”), “the two lives of Sarah:” as if there is more than one life per person. Things are coming full circle now, and Bereshit Rabbah goes on:
אמר רבי יוּדן:
Rabbi Yudan taught:
לימדתך תורה דרֶך אֶֽרֶץ:
This piece of Torah teaches you some proper etiquette:
שֶׁאִם יִהְיֶה לאדם בָּנִים גְּדוֹלִים
That if a single person has grown up children,
יְהֵא מְשִׂיאָן תְּחִילָה
That person should marry off the children first,
וְאַחַר־כָּךְ נוֹשֵׂא לוֹ אִשָּׁה,
And then marry a spouse for one’s self.
מִמִּי אַתְּ לַמֵּד?
From whom do you learn this?
מֵאַבְרָהָם
From Avraham!
תְּחִילָה, ”וַיְבִאֶ֣הָ יִצְחָ֗ק“
First, we read in Genesis Chapter 24, Verse 67, “Yitzhak brought Rivkah (into the family);”
וְאַחַר־כָּךְ: ”וַיֹּ֧סֶף אַבְרָהָ֛ם וַיִּקַּ֥ח אִשָּׁ֖ה וּשְׁמָ֥הּ קְטוּרָֽה:“
And, later, we read in Genesis Chapter 25, Verse 1, “Avraham then added a wife of his own to the family, and her name was Keturah.”
It is not necessarily easy or quick to make transitions after tragic or even minor unfortunate events in our lives occur; however, when we bring new elements into our lives that seem like our old familiar values, we can find ourselves reborn into new lives just as valuable as—or even greater than—the lives we lived before.


Vayyera 2007: A Case of Dualities and Double Entendres

A Devar Torah I wrote for my (Jewish) dormitory. Special thanks to Marshall Lesack for encouraging me to write this (available in the link, and, below, unformatted)!A


Warning: You might want to read this message out loud.

One hot Shabbat morning in June, as people sat sweating and melting in their seats in schul, Rav Yitzchak Hertz began his usual schtick. People began to groan. “Here’s the rabbi again with his 45-minute Devar Torah,” grumbled the shamash. At this time, the congregation always made sarcastic remarks with a common sentiment that went along the lines of: just in case it wasn’t hard enough to stay conscious with the heat, now we have to listen to the longest most boring sermon delivered in the most incomprehensible Eastern European accent in the United States. But this Shabbat, things were different. It wasn’t only that people were tremendously self-conscious of how much they were schvitzing. There was something in what the rabbi was saying that sounded so unusual. First a curious murmuring mumble rose amidst the kahal’s impatient grumble. Then a whispering became more audible—more clear. In every pew, one Jew whispered to another, “Did you hear what the rabbi said!?” The second responded, “Yes! He’s talking about gynecologists!” People began asking, “Is this appropriate for schul?” “Why is the rabbi talking about gynecologists on the bimah!?” After the whispers, every ear perked up and listened to the words of the rabbi. They heard loud and clear from the European octegenarian: “Dis is de importance of gynecologists!” People listened closely. He spoke of “gynecologists in America.” He spoke of “gynecologists in Israel.” And he spoke of “gynecologists all over.” Their rebbe continued. But as their rebbe spoke, the congregants realized that, though gynecologists was an interesting topic, they couldn’t figure out what Rav Hertz was talking about. Nothing he was saying was adding up. They had an idea about what he meant when he mentioned “gynecologists and learning biology.” They still had an idea of what he meant when he mentioned “gynecologists and learning psychology.” But the whole congregation was lost when they heard, “gynecologists and learning astronomy.” Every pew filled with whispers. What was the Rav talking about? Does he not know what gynecologists do and what astronomers do? Finally, they figured out, as soon as Rav Hertz said, “And after high school, de kids should all be gynecologists,” this whole time he meant “going to colleges.”
It’s hard to speak clearly all the time, but when we express ourselves well, sometimes we can speak words that hold more truth than we can even imagine. In this week’s parashah, we are told of a great speaker—a speaker who speaks, not only on behalf of himself, but in deference to others. Parashat Vayyera begins with Avraham “sitting at the entrance of [his] tent as the day grew hot” (Genesis 18:1). The rabbis tell us that, at this point, Avraham is still recovering from his circumcision (it was after all only about four verses ago). But the rabbis must have seen our forefather as a spryly old man because as soon as he looks up and sees three men approaching him—despite the heat and despite the pains of circumcision (and despite the pains of being an advanced nonagenarian)—he gets up, runs over to them, and greets them. He says, “My lords, if it please you, don’t go on past your servant. Let a little water be brought, wash your feet, and recline under the tree. I’ll fetch a morsel of bread, and eat to your hearts’ desires; then go on—seeing that you have come your servant’s way” (18:3-5). The rabbinic tradition must hear Avraham speaking of “my lords” or “אדני” (“adonay”) as a great play on words; not only is Avraham addressing these men subserviently, Rashi sees these three men as angels (the three men who each come with an individual message-mission [among them being to tell Sarah about her son {as executed so slickly in 18:10}, allowing one man to leave those men who leave for Sodom {in 18:22}—explaining why there are only two angels left in 19:1]). To the rabbis, Avraham not only addresses his guests as “lords” but he addresses Adonay, his Lord whom these angels represent. Furthermore, Avraham’s welcoming subservience is emphasized by his calling himself “your servant”—“עבדך” (“`avdekha”) or “עבדכם” (“`avdekhem”)—but perhaps God heard Avraham say “Your servant” with a capital “Y” because God will soon call Avraham “My servant” or “עבדי” (“`avdi”) in Parashat Toledot (26:24). For Rashi though, the real clincher comes when Avraham commands them to “eat to your hearts’ desires” because when Avraham speaks of these angels’ hearts, Avraham’s choice of words could only apply to God or angels. Rashi tells us that Rabbi Hama, in Bereshit Rabbah (48:11), sees Avraham choosing to say “לבכם” (“libbekhem”) (with only one letter ב [bet], and not “לבבכם” [“levavkhem”]—which we might be familiar with from the passages of the Shema [Deuteronomy 11:13], with two בs [bets]) because having two בs (bets) in the word for “hearts” implies that there’s a duality in our hearts: that there is a good inclination and that there is a bad inclination; in fact, Rabbi Hama says we know from here that angels whose hearts can be expressed with only one ב (bet) must have no duality in their hearts: that angels only have a good inclination.
In speaking to Mathilde this week, I pray that we can learn from Avraham. May we all learn that whenever we speak, we should speak words of compassion. Beyond compassion, may we all utter truths greater than what we realize. And may we all learn to be like angels: to deliver messages from God to Earth.

Adonay, sefatay tiftach ufi yagid tehillatekha. ה‘, שפתי תפתח ופי יגיד תהלתך.
Lord, as You open my lips, my mouth will tell of Your praise.


A Genealogy in Mikketz: Learning Names and Cleaving to God (2008)

This Devar Torah was written for Divrei HaYamim, the newsletter of the Office of Student Life at the Jewish Theological Seminary. As usual, I have reposted but not formatted:


Shalom passed by a locked door. Normally he wouldn’t wonder what’s going on behind a door, but he heard thumping and shouting from behind it. Whatever was going on in there sounded violent. He was too curious to leave. After a few minutes, he saw someone pass by and asked, “Hey, do you know what’s going on in there?”
She put her ears to the door and exclaimed, “A battle of wits!”
“A battle of wits?!” he repeated in disbelief.
“From what I hear, it’s a battle of wits,” she nodded. “I hear the voices of Abramowitz, Denowitz, Falkowitz, Horowitz, Jacobowitz, Rabinowitz, Yonkowitz…”
We often look at lists of names and forget that, though it’s obvious, just as each person has a name, each name has a person. I personally find this very true in reading the Torah’s genealogies, our biblical lists of who bore whom or who begot whom. At the end of Parashat Va-yera, we come to a brief genealogy, only 5 verses long (Genesis 22:20-24). For many of us, the most exciting part of this genealogy is that Rebecca’s name appears (in verse 23). In fact, Rashi says, regarding the mention of Rebecca:

Each of these relationships wouldn’t have been written if it weren’t for this verse!

Out of five whole verses, Rashi found purpose in just a segment of one!? Believe it or not—Rashi’s comment may be progress compared to a great earlier companion to our reading, Bereshit Rabbah (57:1-4), where Rebecca’s name isn’t even mentioned! In fact, Bereshit Rabbah pays such little attention to this genealogy that the least tangential of its comments on this section are, attributed to Rabbis Joshua ben Levi and Yitzhak, puns on some of the less familiar names in our genealogy—for the explicit purpose of describing the rebellious persons behind these names (57:4).
But it’s when Nahmanides comes around that a familiar commentator recalls the importance of the genealogy’s names. Nahmanides writes (regarding verse 24):

The text tells of all good news that the Abraham’s siblings’ children offered. Indeed this is written to inform us—through each relation of Nahor—that each of them is seen as worthy of cleaving as the seed of Abraham.

Though they are ambiguous in meaning, Nahmanides’ words here are so powerful that Rabbenu Bahyei plagiarizes them (commenting on verse 20) a generation later; he defines what “seen as worthy of cleaving as the seed of Abraham” really means:

Cleaving to the Holy One—Blessed be God—as the concept is written (in Deuteronomy 4:4), “You who cling to Adonai your God are living—each of you—on this day.”

Rabbenu Bahyei senses holiness in these unfamiliar names. A relationship formed between even a nobody and a holy person—whether by birth or by a cleaving friendship—can make the unknown holy. The relationships we form in life allow us to embrace and to absorb each other’s holiness.
With every name we learn, we meet another person. And with each person we meet, we can cleave ever closer to God.


A Mathilde Message: Building Sacred Relationships Through Dialogue

A Devar Torah on Parashat Noach. The link here is good; what I wrote is also reposted below without formatting. This was, by the way, sent to those who lived in my (Jewish) dormitory. (Thanks to Aderet Okon Drucker and Brett Drucker for encouraging me to write this by the way!)


In one of my favorite scenes from the 1933 Marx Bros. film Duck Soup, the following dialogue takes place as Groucho Marx tests Chico Marx for a job:

Groucho: Now, what is it that has four pairs of pants, lives in Philadelphia, and it never rains but it pours?
Chico: Atsa a good one… I give you three guesses!
Groucho: Now let me see. Has four pairs of pants, lives in Philadelphia… is it male or female?
Chico: No, I don’t think so.
Groucho: Is he dead?
Chico: Who?
Groucho: I don’t know. I give up!
Chico: I give up too!

Attempting to follow the conversation above might be confusing, and the fact that Chico gets the job in the end may be even more confusing. However, no part of Duck Soup could possibly be as confusing as the terminal conversations encountered by the people of Bavel, Babel, in this week’s Torah Portion, Parashat Noah.
Bavel does not get much attention in this Torah portion. Out of a parashah that’s about 6 chapters long, the story of Bavel lasts only 9 verses of 32 verses from one of our six chapters. But the story waxes nostalgic of an era when everyone understood each other (Genesis 11:1):

ויהי כל הארץ שפה אחת ודברים אחדים
It was when the whole Earth was of one tongue and united words…

On the surface, this unity of language—this communicative compatibility—sounds pretty good. I often wish I understood more of the words that I hear in the classroom… and then see on midterms. In fact, our story’s universal state of clarity must have been pretty sweet; evidently, the entire human race got together and made some literally big plans (11:4):

ויאמרו הבה נבנה לנו עיר ומגדל וראשו בשמים ונעשה לנו שם פן נפוץ על פני האדמה
They said, “Come, let’s build us a city and a fortress with its head in the sky, and we will make ourselves a shem lest we are scattered across the face of the earth!”

Things seemed pretty dandy down below, but not all was well up above; God goes down (וירד) to see the city and the fortress these humans are making (9:5), and God gets some speaking lines (11:6-7):

ויאמר ה‘ הן עם אחד ושפה אחת לכלם
God said, “Here is one nation with one language for all!
וזה החלם לעשות ועתה לא יבצר מהם כל אשר יזמו לעשות
“And now that they’ve initiated this, will they never be stopped from anything they plan to do!?
הבה נרדה ונבלה שם שפתם אשר לא ישמעו עיש שפת רעהו
“Let’s go down and confound (v’nav’lah) there their speech so that nobody will understand the speech of one’s peer!”

Sounds almost like God is up to some wild antics here, but God keeps God’s word, just as we should expect (11:8):

ויפץ ה אתם משם על פני כל הארץ ויחדלו לבנות העיר
God scattered them from there—across the face of the Earth; and they ceased from building that city.

But upon encountering this story for the first time, one might wonder why God would want to cease this construction that appeared to be an act of human harmony. Also, one might have wondered, a few verses ago, what exactly is a shem.
Literally, a name, a shem, related to the Arabic wasama (“brand,” or “mark”), is also (in Biblical Hebrew) a reputation, a representation, a memorial or even a monument. When humanity chose to create a shem for itself, it chose to create a monument up to the heavens to memorialize a mark of humanity: the view of one’s self as mighty. In the end though, it’s not hard to see God taking issue with God’s creations suddenly trying to outdo God and reclaim themselves as their own god; any people conscious of a God and of the powers their God holds cannot be thinking clearly if they can equate themselves with God.
Yet another explanation of what exactly this shem is comes, in Bereshit Rabbah (38 [11:4]), from one of the earliest of our rabbis, Rabbi Yishma’el (living close to the turn from BCE to CE):

אין שם אלא עבודת כוכבים
“A shem implies nothing other than worship of the stars!”

Seeing this shem in the shamayim (“heavens” or “sky”) as having an astrological significance is not too far-fetched. In fact, names (shemot) played great roles in human superstitions in ancient magic. And even though some of these superstitions about names have shaped certain conventions in contemporary Judaism (i.e. referring to “shemeh rabba” [“God’s great name”] in the Kaddish, or referring to God even as “Hashem” [“the Name”]), Judaism has always been cautious of incorporating the superstitions of magic into the religion. God would not want magic- al superstitions to come between humans and God’s holiness; God would want these humans to have rational minds that can connect with God.
Most importantly though, God saw a problem in the process of this construction. The problem? No dialogue! At the surface of our text, literally everybody said the same thing (11:4): “Let’s build us a city!” That is not sufficient dialogue. That is a mere monologue! True holy human interactions involve dialogue: the arts and skills of conversation: listening to each other and talking to one other to form clear, coherent ideas.
God was not selfish in ceasing the construction though. Rather, God was saving humans from their own confused temptation to believe in one of the first of the false idols to which the Bible introduces us: humanity’s own self-importance. It was God’s duty to come down and literally put humans back in their places.
At the end of our story (11:9):

על כן קרא שמה בבל
On account of this, called it Bavel

Wait, who called it Bavel though? It just says “called it Bavel” and leaves us confused… unless we read the rest of the sentence…

כי שם בלל ה שפת כל הארץ ומשם הפיצם ה על פני כל הארץ
for, there, God confused (balal) the speech of all of the earth, and, from there, God scattered them across the face of the earth.

God called it Bavel, eh? But if this name is a play on the words balal (confused) and balah (confounded), then maybe the name would have made more sense as Balel or Baleh—not Bavel. The root of the word Bavel has nothing to do with confusion. There should be a lamed (ל) in the second letter of the name—not a bet (ב).
However, Dr. Robert Hoberman of Stony Brook University notes that “Bavel”, recalling perhaps a language earlier than Hebrew or any other Semitic language known today, would be pronounced in Arabic as “Baab Il;” “Baab Il” would easily translate from Arabic to English as the “Doorway to God.”
God found the falsehoods worshiped by humans and saved us from them by replacing these false idols, our monuments signifying the confusion of humanity, with a path to the true God.
Confusion is no fun, and I also am not sure what has four pairs of pants, lives in Philadelphia, and never rains but pours. However, I do know that, as long as God grants us knowledge, we must never talk ourselves into believing a falsehood. But when we engage in holy and true dialogue with one other, we find ourselves in a clear state of mind as we step closer and closer to the steps of God’s door.

Shabbat shalom,
Jonah Rank


Teshuvah for Turning Community Into Increased Community: September 20, 2008

This Devar Torah was delivered at the Columbia/Barnard Hillel on September 20, 2008, at Se’udah Shelishit. Although the link up above works better, I have also reposted the davar (unformatted) below:


Shabbat Shalom,
I realize that it’s unusual for people at Se`udah Shelishit to deliver a Devar Torah while reading from a piece of paper; however, I want to show off that I am really good at reading words.1
As you might have noticed, this Shabbat is a very special Shabbat for our community, and we are in a time of transition for a few reasons.
First off, we’re in a time of transition, as at our Minhah services this afternoon—as is the case for nearly all Minhah services on Shabbat—we already welcomed in a new week by beginning to read next week’s Torah portion, Parashat Nitzavim.
Second, Motza’ey Shabbat, tonight, we’re going to begin reciting formal Selihot, prayers of repentance, and we’ll be reciting Selihot all the way through Yom Kippur.
Third, we have tons of prospective students joining us this weekend for what I hope will be the first of many Shabbatot together. It’s been a pleasure to enjoy this Shabbat together with them, so berukhim habba’im—welcome—to them all.
And fourthly, yesterday many of us observed something so minor it does not even appear on most Jewish calendars: Talk Like A Pirate Day. Yesterday was a rare occasion when Shabbat and Talk Like A Pirate Day do coincide, and as our Shabbat comes to a close, so does our incorporation of Talk Like A Pirate Day into Shabbat go down to feed the fish, me hearties.
Truthfully, the actual number of transitions happening this Shabbat are nearly endless. And tonight, as we begin Selihot, we might feel the onslaught of a major transition as we spend the next few weeks considering our past and praying for Selihot, forgiveness, and hoping for better futures in controlling our own actions through Teshuvah, by turning over new leaves for ourselves. However, we must not forget that we, as living and growing individuals, cannot limit these reflections to the few weeks we have between now and Yom Kippur. In fact, Rabbi Eli’ezer, somewhere around the first century C.E., articulated this very clearly.
In the second chapter of Pirkey Avot, from the early third century C.E., Rabbi Eli’ezer is quoted as teaching:
יהי כבוד חברך חביב עליך כשלך
Your respect for your peer should always be as dear to you as your respect for yourself.
ואל תהי נוח לכעוס,
And don’t get provoked and become angry so easily.
ושוב יום אחד לפני מיתתך.
And repent one day before your death.
In Avot Derabbi Natan, written some point in the latter half of the first millennium C.E., we read that Rabbi Eli’ezer’s students needed a clarification as soon as they heard him say, “ושוב יום אחד לפני מיתתך”—“And repent one day before your death.”
We read:
שאלו תלמידיו את רבי אליעזר:
Rabbi Eli’ezer’s students asked him:
וכי אדם יודע באיזה יום ימות שיעשה תשובה?
Does a person really know which day they’re going to die—such that they can plan one day beforehand to repent then?
אמר להם
He said to them:
כל שכן שיעשה תשובה היום
All the more so, every person should repent today
שמא ימות למחר!
Lest that person dies tomorrow!
ישוב למחר שמא ימות למחרתו!
And that person should repent tomorrow lest that person dies the day after tomorrow!
ונמצאו כל ימיו בתשובה!
In fact, every day of one’s life should be part of a period of Teshuvah!
Truly though, when Jews speak of Teshuvah or repenting, the topic at hand really is change. The word teshuvah literally means turning or returning, as if we are turning our old habits into better ones or we are returning to walking in God’s ways. Real Teshuvah is about improving ourselves; it is about much more than just saying sorry.
In fact, the great Spanish twelfth and early thirteenth century rationalist Maimonides, Rabbi Moshe ben Maymon, wrote his own definition of Teshuvah Gemurah, complete repentance, in the second law of the second chapter of his Hilkhot Teshuvah, regarding the laws of Teshuvah:
ומה היא תשובה
And what is Teshuvah?
הוא שיעזוב החוטא חטאו
When the sinner leaves the sin behind,
ויסירו ממחשבתו
And removes his thought process,
ויגמור בלבו שלא יעשהו עוד
And finalizes in his heartfelt consciousness that he will not do that sin anymore.
שנאמר
Just as it says—in Isaiah Chapter 55, verse 7:
יַֽעֲזֹ֤ב רָשָׁע֙ דַּרְכּ֔וֹ וְאִ֥ישׁ אָ֖וֶן מַחְשְׁבֹתָ֑יו וְיָשֹׁ֤ב אֶל־ה֙‘ וִירַֽחֲמֵ֔הוּ וְאֶל־אֱ-לֹהֵ֖ינוּ כִּֽי־יַרְבֶּ֥ה לִסְלֽוֹחַ:
The wicked person will abandon his path, and the worthless one his thoughts, and each will return to God, and God will have mercy upon him.
וכן יתנחם על שעבר,
And so too, one should calm down and come to terms with the sin of the past.
שנאמר:
For it says in Jeremiah 31:18:
כִּֽי־אַֽחֲרֵ֤י שׁוּבִי֙ נִחַ֔מְתִּי וְאַֽחֲרֵי֙ הִוָּ֣דְעִ֔י סָפַ֖קְתִּי עַל־יָרֵ֑ךְ בֹּ֚שְׁתִּי וְגַם־נִכְלַ֔מְתִּי כִּ֥י נָשָׂ֖אתִי חֶרְפַּ֥ת נְעוּרָֽי:
For after my return, I repented; and after I was informed, I slapped my thigh; I was ashamed and even humiliated for I bore the reproach of my youth.
ויעיד עליו יודע תעלוּמות שלא ישוב לזה החטא לעולם,
And the sinner must also testify to the Omnipotent One that he will not repeat this sin ever,
שנאמר:
For it says in Hosea 14:4:
אַשּׁ֣וּר ׀ לֹ֣א יֽוֹשִׁיעֵ֗נוּ עַל־סוּס֙ לֹ֣א נִרְכָּ֔ב וְלֹֽא־נֹ֥אמַר ע֛וֹד אֱ-לֹהֵ֖ינוּ לְמַֽעֲשֵׂ֣ה יָדֵ֑ינוּ אֲשֶׁר־בְּךָ֖ יְרֻחַ֥ם יָתֽוֹם:
And we won’t say anymore to the deeds of our own hands “You are our Judges.”
וצריך להתְודוֹת בשפתיו ולומר עניינות אלו שגמר בלבו.
And the sinner must confess in his lips and say these matters, so that it is finalized in the sinner’s heart.
Rambam, a.k.a. Maimonides, in short says: we must come to no longer justify a mistake of ours, choose never to repeat the mistake, be calm and cool about it, and then testify to God. Rambam was a doctor, and a pretty excellent one too, and what he gives us here is a prescription for more than just Teshuvah; this also is a prescription for Tikkun Olam, for repairing the world, and repairing its people. Perhaps this is because Tikkun Olam and Teshuvah, like all Mitzvot Aseh, all commandments which we are commanded to perform, take time; and all of our deeds and all that we process in time is Transition. Rambam hasn’t given us a prescription for Teshuvah alone, but rather he has given us a prescription for Transition.
A few winters ago, Seth, one of my friends from a town right near mine in Long Island, where there’s a big Jewish community, was walking with his family to schul on a pretty windy Shabbat morning. Suddenly, the wind blew away the yarmulkah that was on Seth’s brother’s head, and the wind was blowing it way too fast for Seth or anyone in his family to catch it, so Seth’s father said,2 “I know there’s gonna be extra yarmulkahs at schul, but until we get there, Seth, can you just keep your hand on Jacob’s head so if anyone passes by us on the way to schul, they won’t notice your brother doesn’t have a yarmulkah?” Seth’s a pretty nice guy, but for some reason or another he actually got a little annoyed about the prospect of keeping his hand on his brother’s head, and he turned to his dad and asked, “Why should I? Am I my brother’s kippah?”
As you might be aware, responsibility towards each other is currently one of the most important issues being discussed in the Columbia/Barnard Hillel community. The simplest reason for its importance right now is that communal programming here is in a positive state of transition. This August, it was announced that an Interdenominational Committee at Hillel would be formed to help find common grounds for each of us with our own varying personal or Movemental streams of Judaism. And although I am not and never have been on any Hillel committees, I do enjoy feeling like I can contribute to our Hillel’s sub-communities and programs by being a present member.
The past two years, I was always hesitant to step up to be a leader in the Hillel community because I felt that I had too many obligations to other communities. The biggest commitment I have felt that I’ve had to another community has been to the Jewish Theological Seminary. As a Jew who feels obligated to daven three times every day in services preferably where women and men can both perform the same exact ritual tasks, I have found myself often feeling more committed to JTS, where something resembling my ideal frequency of my ideal minyan does exist. If Koach3 were in fact to meet more often than Shabbat, holidays, and Rosh Hodesh (the new month), I would feel less of a need to feel committed to JTS, and I would feel more fit to be a leader in Koach.
Normally petty criticisms of Koach or any Hillel sub-community do not fit in Se`udah Shelishit. However, as interdenominational dialogue increases at Hillel, it may be somewhat appropriate to address concerns for individual sub-communities that could perhaps be solved community-wide.
At the end of the second chapter of Pirkey Avot, Rabbi Tarfon, from somewhere around the turn of the first into the second century C.E., is quoted as saying:
לא עליך המלאכה לגמור
It is neither incumbent upon you to complete this task,
ולא אתה בן חורין לבטל ממנה
Nor are you free to ignore it altogether.
In addition, not only did Rabbi Tarfon say it’s okay if we can’t finish up the task 100%, Devarim Rabbah from circa 900 C.E., in discussing Parashat Nitzavim which we read this afternoon, offers a solution to our own inability to fulfill our visions. In Chapter 30, Verse 11, the rabbis were confused by the term “hammitzvah hazzot” (“this command”), which appears where God is quoted as referring to in:
הַמִּצְוָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את אֲשֶׁ֛ר אָֽנֹכִ֥י מְצַוְּךָ֖ הַיּ֑וֹם
This command that I command you today.
Quite honestly, there’s a lot of commands in the Torah, so the rabbis wanted to know what the purpose of saying “hammitzvah hazzot” (“this command”) is, if it’s not to refer to a clearly specific commandment. Despite the confusion about the word “hazzot” (“this”), the rest of the sentence fragment is very familiar to the rabbis; in fact, they had just read it in the first verse… except 22 chapters ago:
כׇּל־הַמִּצְוָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אָֽנֹכִ֧י מְצַוְּךָ֛ הַיּ֖וֹם
All of the command that I command you today.
The mitzvah being discussed in both of these places seem to be the same mitzvah. Not only did the Israelites dwell in the desert for 40 years, but they also dwelled on the same mitzvah for over 20 chapters apparently. But, Devarim Rabbah is not totally satisfied, and it goes on to ask tangentially:
מהו כל המצוה?
What is meant by “all of the command?”
The question is difficult to answer definitely, but it provokes some responses, the darkest of which comes from Rabbi Hiyyah Bar Abba, who says:
כל שמתחיל במצוה ואינו גומרה
Anyone who begins a mitzvah and does not complete it
גורם שיקבר אשתו ובניו
Ends up having to bury his wife and kids.
Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba then tells us to look at Judah as an example, because, when Judah stood up against 10 other brothers and said not to kill Joseph, he began a mitzvah. He was respecting כְּבוֹד הַבְּרִיּוֹת (“human dignity”), he was creatingשְלוֹם בָּֽיִת (“peace in the house”), and—of course—he prevented a murder; however, Judah then lets the brothers sell Joseph off! And then we read later that Judah’s wife Bat Shua and his sons Er and Onan die, seemingly in Judah’s own lifetime. But maybe Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba does not have the full story, because then Rabbi Levi, speaking in the name of Rabbi Hama bar Hanina says:
כל מי שמתחיל במצוה ואינו גורמה
If someone begins a mitzvah and does not complete it,
ובא אחר וגומרה
But somebody else comes along and completes it,
נקראת על שמו שגמרה
The credit is given to the person who completes it.
This means that credit is given as long as somebody completes the mitzvah. You are not free to ignore the task; however, you have to make sure that the task gets done.
I don’t believe that Koach, in order to be a sub-community to which I personally can feel more committed needs to begin meeting for minyan 3 times a day starting tomorrow. However, I do believe that Koach, in order to be a sub-community to which I would more willingly commit myself, would need to begin meeting for minyan at least once a week aside from Shabbat by the time I’ve graduated from here.
I sense though that I am not the only member of a particular sub-community that wishes we met more often. I am willing to bet members of Lalekhet4 wish that Lalekhet could meet for minyan at least every Shabbat. And, as members of the Reform Movement come to embrace more traditional elements of Judaism, I am even willing to bet some members of Kesher5 wish that Kesher would meet more often for services than only Friday night.
I may be alone—although I hope I am not—but I do believe that these wishes for more time with our own sub- communities may be common grounds for us Jews from all over the spectrum of the Hillel community. I do not mention this thought of mine because I wish to complain. In fact, I hate complaining. I mention this thought only because I believe that it is possible for us to use this year as the most progressive year of Transition that this Hillel community has experienced yet: a Transition through time whereby we may allow ourselves more time with each other.
לא עליך המלאכה לגמור
It is neither incumbent upon you to complete this task,
ולא אתה בן חורין לבטל ממנה
Nor are you free to ignore it altogether.
ובא אחר וגומרה
But, when somebody else comes along and completes it,
נקראת על שמו שגמרה
The credit is given to the person who completes it.
I believe that many of us here wish to begin, if not the same, then a very similar task. We need not complete it or ever earn the credit, but we may not ignore it. In this season of Teshuvah and Transition, we have to realize that we have the potential to make a fantastic community an even better one.
Avast, mateys. Shabbat shalom. And an early shanah tovah umtukah.


5-13-06 Ashrei Yoshevei Veitekha – Bored or Happy Are They Who Sit In the House of Prayer?

I delivered the following Devar Tefillah on Ashrei at METNY USY Regional Convention on May 13, 2006. (Again, I have reposted it below, but it is unformatted.)


METNY USY, good morning and Shabbat Shalom,
For many of us sitting here, prayer is incredibly boring, and it’s pretty tempting to talk to the people sitting next to us and even the people who are sitting nowhere near us. And for many of us here, prayer is a challenging part of our daily lives. Many of us pray with hope that God will grant us everything that we ask God for, and we often find ourselves disappointed. This leads us to ask ourselves whether or not we believe that we should keep praying to God, and, if so, why? We don’t seem to always get what we ask for when we pray, so prayer might appear useless and unnecessary. I am among those of us who unfortunately get this attitude towards prayer sometimes, but I also have a few responses concerning this attitude.
My first response to such an attitude actually comes from a Modern Orthodox rabbi I know, Rabbi Stuart Grant. Rabbi Grant was discussing that, just as we Jews have laws that are about our relationships with each other and laws that are about our relationship with God, we Jews also need two mindsets. When we pray, we need to pray as if everything depends on God; but, when we act, we need to act as if everything depends on us. We should always keep in mind that there is no way for us humans to know what God can do and, more importantly, what God will do. So, it is naïve for us to rely on just God for good outcomes. We also need to take our own action. And, it is naïve for us to think that we will always get exactly what we want when we take our own action and pray to God. In a song titled “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones truthfully sang, “You can’t always get what you want.”
My second response has to do with the prayer we call “Ashrei.” Until about a year ago, I used to think that “Ashrei” was a pretty boring prayer that was not particularly important. Then, one night, I decided to give “Ashrei” a fair judgment. I read through it slowly in English and in Hebrew and analyzed it. I had never before realized that there were actually prayers that say things that are pretty practical. Let’s look at “Ashrei” a little slowly.
If you turn to page 81 of Siddur Sim Shalom, then you will now see, in the bottom paragraph, the English translation of “Ashrei.” Feel free to read the translation for yourself, but let me show you some cool stuff to take note of while you read the English. When we say this prayer, we have to realize that it is not only a prayer. It is a poem. So, when we read the word “I” in “Ashrei,” that “I” might not be you yourself, but I’ll dare to say that that “I” should be you yourself. What is a cool thing too in the text is that “I,” the speaker, is not only talking about the speaker praising God. The speaker is also talking about the other people “them” who praise God. When you look at this text closely, “Ashrei” is just a perfect description of the perfect attitude of somebody who is praying. “Ashrei” focuses almost entirely on saying that people praise God or describing how people view God. “Ashrei” also focuses on people’s expectations of God, not necessarily their expectations of what God practically will do, but what God will hopefully do. But, as far as cool stuff really goes: check out page 83. This is deep stuff worth a little analysis.
As we know, life is full of ups and downs. It’s naïve to say that life is all bad or all good, and “Ashrei” shows that good things will even happen in bad times. Around the middle of the page, we read that “All eyes look hopefully to You, to receive their food in due time.” It is true that we are more likely to pray harder for something that we’re lacking than something we have a bit of. The text here isn’t saying, “We’re all having a good time, and we’ll get even more food.” The text here notices that there are hungry people who are saved from hunger anyway. A few lines later, we read, “The Lord is near to all who call, all who call upon God in truth.” This is even truer in the mind of the modern Jew. No person in this room can prove that God does or does not exist, but if any person in this room hopes to find God, that person will almost be guaranteed to be able to find some meaningful way to connect to God. If you decide to never call God—to never mentally dial 1-800-CALL-GOD begin_of_the_skype_highlighting              1-800-CALL-GOD      end_of_the_skype_highlighting—then you will never find any way to connect with God.
And let’s not forget: there are a lot of times when we ask the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” But, we rarely ask, “Why do good things happen to good people”—after all, sometimes it seems like it’s more often that only bad things happen to good people. Here is one of my favorite lines in “Ashrei:” “God fulfills the desire of those who revere God; God hears their cry and delivers them.” Read that line more carefully now. We’ve got the idea that God is fulfilling the desire of those who are actually crying to God! So, does that mean it takes suffering for God to help people out? Well, for something to get better, there needs to be something that can be improved. And, nowadays, people don’t like to give God credit for good things that happen to them, even when they have trouble explaining why the good things happen to them. This comes back to the idea that we can’t always rely on God to help us because God will help us, but, according to “Ashrei,” God will help us when we need to cry to God. We have to rely on ourselves in our actions, and we have to rely on only God when we pray. From this, we learn that God can help us, but we’re not always sure how, why, or when God helps us.
And, in fact, “Ashrei” concludes as the poet says, “My mouth shall praise the Lord. Let all flesh praise God’s name throughout all time.” And, this is concluded even more conclusively, “We shall praise the Lord now and always.”
So, even when prayer is boring, and even when prayer almost seems meaningless, let’s never forget that, in “Ashrei,” we make a vow to God that we will always praise God even when we’re not really sure why. So, even if you are very disinterested in the service or just way too tired, I encourage you to continue praying because neither you nor I nor any other person in this room actually knows what could happen, but it can only be good.
We now turn back to page 80 as Dan leads us in “Ashrei.”


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